So, here was the thing about Wakame's plan. It was a good plan, he knew that. There really weren't many ways that it could go wrong, when he thought about it, not that he could see at least. The predicament he found himself in currently- nestled in a pile of duffle bags in a large burlap bin, in intense discomfort- was not a fault of the plan, but rather a fault of his own body. He had to pee. Like, really bad.

He guessed that he should have considered this possibility in the early stages of the plan's formulation, but at the time it had seemed like a lesser detail. He'd also assumed that he would be able to hold it until the first stop the truck made, but it felt like it had been hours. Like a lot of hours. Not that he could really tell. Apart from the constant, rattling of the truck and Geta's occasional grumbling, he didn't have a clue how time was passing outside the bin. He hoped the truck had gotten far enough to give him a good start on his journey.

A low sort of bellowing came from Geta, who wasn't helping Wakame's situation by sprawling across his torso. The sound was not loud, exactly, but it resonated in his mind. In fact, the gator's mode of communication hit frequencies below the level of most human hearing, and Wakame, like many members of his family, could perceive these tones. However it was something more felt in his chest and jaw than heard in any case. Geta was impatient, he could tell from the her tone. Probably because the truck was dark and a little drafty, which he knew was not her favorite environment to have to lie still in.

He patted her smooth, leathery side, "Soon, buddy. We gotta wait for the truck to stop."

Another grumble, this one seemed doubtful. Wakame sighed. He and Geta had been partners for years, ever since his father had brought him to the greenhouse, hardly more than a toddler, to see a clutch of eggs laid by his own gator, Ammit. They were just on the verge of hatching, and little Wakame had watched in awe as several babies shoved their way into the world from their oblong shells. This was a rite of passage for any Shimizu clan member who so chose to take it. Some bonded with hatchlings in youth and grew alongside their gators. Others, like his brother Hijiki, chose to take an animal partner later on when they had gotten through the first phase of their training. It was sacred in its own right- allowing a gator to form an unbreakable bond with you, and the tradition linked the animals to the clan and vice versa, multiple generations of beasts and men working for and with one another. Wakame remembered the joyful tears that sprung to his eyes when a very small Geta had padded her way fearlessly across the grassy nest and onto his bare foot. The tiny boy had looked to Ammit, who blinked, watchful of her infant, and rumbled in satisfaction.

Since then he and Geta had been practically inseparable. He cared for and nurtured her, played with her and planned for the day when he would begin to train professionally with Geta, though he'd always taken solace in the fact that they would be partners for the remainder of his life, whether or not he became a shinobi. The bond of the Shimizu and gators was not determined by their career or path in life, but rather by a mutual selection and choice to form a partnership. It was an alliance which spanned across time, distance, and change. He was proud of this legacy, of his responsibility to Geta and their future as shinobi of the Hidden Mist. Getta was like a second sibling to him- though all the good things considered, she was just as difficult as any sibling could be.

He rubbed her head, "Look, Nezumi-sama and Same-sama are gonna have to pee soon too, they can't hold it forever."

If alligators could roll their eyes, Geta would have done so. Instead, she grumbled once more, and if to prove a point, settled her weight directly over Wakame's bladder. He groaned. The drivers had better stop soon.

Nameko had a feeling. Not one of dread, per se, but an itching, nagging at the back of her mind. The restaurant was unusually quiet for early evening. By this time of night it wasn't uncommon for the building to be half-swarming with her staff and family in preparation for the dinner rush. Granny Shimizu's Gator Pit and Grill worked in some amount of chaos most of the time, but she knew the flow well. Early mornings were for family breakfast, and that generally included a handful of her most immediate relatives. When her staff arrived, it was business time from 10 am to 3pm, with staggered breaks for the employees so there were always at least a few hands available in the kitchen, dining room, and register. From 4:30 to 8:00, dinner was served, and after that there was a hour to clean and close. Her staff was an ever-cycling mix of full-time and part-time workers. Some family, some civilian locals, some retired military, but everyone working the restaurant knew that they could expect anywhere from three to seven of Nameko's grandchildren, nieces, and nephews to be causing auditory havoc in the building during the evening hours, playing in the back corners of the dining room or swinging their feet from the barstools as though they aimed to take flight. Tonight wasn't different. There were still peals of laughter ringing from the wood beams of the ceiling, and still the general dull cacophony that came along with hungry mouths, but it seemed that the noise was missing a usual component. She scanned the restaurant over her shoulder as she turned to hand a stack of green-ringed earthenware plates to Hijiki, "Hey, have you seen your brother around?"

The teen shook his head. Hijiki looked only a little silly with his sleek ponytail shoved up under a hair net and suited in a vastly oversized white chef's apron that had belonged to his grandfather.

"I saw him at breakfast, but not since then. I think he took Geta out to practice offshore in the lake?"

"Mm. He said he was going into town to look for a gift today, but he must be back if Geta's gone."

Hijiki shrugged, "Yeah I dunno, I haven't seen her all day, but she wasn't in the greenhouse when I was there earlier." He set the plates on a nearby table and began to place them, three on each side.

"Well Wakame never blows off dinner, and I was expecting him to come help set tables with you tonight, that's all."

The boy's brow furrowed at his granny's remark, making him look somewhat like a caricature of a much older man, "That's weird, he usually shows up for his jobs, even if its just to bug me. Kid doesn't think I set tables right."

Nameko chuckled in reply, " Wakame has many gifts, but table setting is not one of them. Still, when he shows up later, tell him off for me. Maybe make sure he does your share of the dishes."

"Will do." Her grandson huffed lightheartedly as he moved on to another table.

Hours later, Hijiki moved through the marshy grounds at the edge of the forest that backed up to the family compound. It was a popular place for Shimizu ninja to spar and train with their gators, and he knew he was more than likely to find Wakame and Geta out here, aimlessly wandering and allowing themselves to lose track of time.

"Keep an eye out Butsu." He called to his own gator, about a league or so off, whose eyes only blinked in acknowledgement, reflecting eerily in the late evening dimness. Hijiki's similarly reflective eyes returned the sentiment. He could see as well as Butsu in these conditions, just a bit balmy and almost no mist settling in amongst the trees, which was rare for late evening. It should make it easier to find Wakame, but then again his younger brother didn't often make things easy when he didn't want to be found. Kid was a damn hide and seek master when he had his heart set on it. Still, Hijiki was made uneasy by the trek out into the training grounds. The whole place smelled strongly of both Shimizu and alligator, Butsu had let him know as much, but he'd not yet distinguished Wakame or Geta's scent. If the two had trained out here in the last few hours, the evidence should have been clear.

The young man and his four legged partner trudged on, covering the wet earth in search for the missing pair. Hijiki hadn't really been too concerned about his brother's absence until after dinner. Wakame was known for wandering during the day, especially to train, but he never missed dinner, especially when he'd promised Granny he'd help. He was a scatterbrained kid but he wasn't a flake.

Granny had become more and more worried at Wakame's absence, which in turn spiked Hijiki's own anxiety; he hated seeing old people get scared. He'd volunteered to go out and look in the training grounds, tossing in some comment about how he was sure the two were just lost and would be back in no time. Now that he had been searching for well over an hour, he didn't feel so certain. The woods were getting more difficult to navigate by the minute, and Hijiki felt a spark of genuine worry ignite in his chest. Of course this would happen when Mom and Dad were on a mission, if they were searching for Wakame he'd have been found in fifteen minutes.

A guttural sound emanated from near the sludgy ground to his left, where Butsu rose to standing position, legs spattered with vitiligo patches which stood out in the dusk against dark underbrush. His eyes were alight in the growing darkness. Hijiki mimicked the low-frequency noise, but pitched differently to make his response and inquiry.

Do you have something?

Butsu made a clicking grunt which shook the entirety of his seventeen-foot-long form, Something.

Hijiki's heart skipped a beat as he followed Butsu through the thickening grass, and suppressed a groan as he stepped into a particularly muddy patch and felt chilly water seep into his sock. Up ahead, there was a dimly lit clearing, he could see by the oddly greenish light spilling through some of the taller reeds lining the area. He held back for a moment, but Butsu plodded on ahead, shoving his massive, meaty head into the clearing. He made an exasperated face at his partner's tail. Butsu was nearly sixty years old at this point, and was uncompromising in even his best moments, but Hijiki looked up to him as the more experienced member of their duo. He just wished on occasion that the damn gator would brief him on the plan before he was once again trudging after him into unknown territory.

The clearing opened before him as he moved through the large swatch of tamped-down grass Butsu had left in his wake. It was a place he'd been plenty of times while training in these woods; mossy ground, gnarled oaks and spindly pines. It was useful for rehearsing larger, more explosive moves, and group exercises- when the space was unoccupied.

Tonight, though, the clearing was very much in use. A wave a relief flushed through Hijiki when he recognized the figure moving swiftly in the center of the circle, but was disappointed to see it was not his brother. The wiry person was fast for any age, but Hijiki had established respect for the skill of the older shinobi before him. The man moved with calculated and ruthless power that could only be gained through a long life of hard-won battles. He was not training alongside a gator, but rather sparring against his own water clones, which rose, attacked, and dissipated with the same wave-like motion as the chakra which rippled out from him.

Hijiki flared his own chakra gently, in case his uncle had not yet noticed his and Butsu's presence, though he highly doubted that was the case. Still, it was better to make oneself known than to accidentally sneak up on the old fart.

His uncle turned his head concerningly fast over his shoulder to look at Hijiki and the rest of his slender body followed suit, "My boy! How's my favorite brother's grandson doing on this fine, fine evening?"

"I'm okay, Uncle Sansho."

The old man's reflective eyes crinkled as he knelt down to pat Butsu on the sides of his thick jaws, "And of course I couldn't forget this old comrade!" The alligator made a belching noise, pleased at the attention.

"You two getting in some nighttime training?" Sansho continued to vigorously pet Butsu, as though he were a large dog rather than a massive apex predator.

Hijiki shook his head, "Nah, actually, we're just looking for Wakame and Geta. He skipped out on dinner duty tonight and Granny told me to go kick his ass." That earned him a hearty chuckle from the old man, who clapped him on the back as he stood up.

"Well, I haven't seen him out here tonight, but he's bound to be 'round the ol' homestead somewhere."

Hijiki nodded in agreement, but his uncle's joke fell flat. He had an uneasy feeling about not being able to find his brother. Usually, Wakame made his presence known wherever he went. In fact, it was all he could do sometimes to get a moment's peace from incessant questions and requests to, "Look what I can do!" It just wasn't like him to disappear all day. He didn't want to alert Uncle Sansho to that, though. The man had enough fires to keep at bay with his duties as political head of the clan, and he didn't want to worry him this late in the evening when all it would do it add another stressed family member to the equation.

He was brought out of his thoughts by another clap on the shoulder from Uncle Sansho, "C'mon kid, pop a squat over here." He led Hijiki to a recess in the clearing where a large tree had fallen some years ago. Hijiki grimaced to feel the clammy bark on his butt, but joined his uncle nonetheless. The old man shoved a hand into the pocket of his vest and produced a cigarette and lighter. As he lit it, Sansho's face was illuminated directly for the first time since Hijiki had come into the clearing. In profile, his uncle's face looked similar to how he remembered his grandad's; broad, round nose and high cheekbones. Eyes creased by thousands of laughs. Uncle Sansho was slimmer than Grandad had been though, and he kept a short and scruffy silver beard. The lines in his face had grown deeper since Hijiki was a kid, and these days it was growing more apparent that Sansho had been the older of the two brothers.

"You know your grandad and I," Sansho began, causing Hijiki's ears to prick, "got into so much shit as kids, I'll tell ya." He began laughing at a story he had not yet told, "One time Shichimi and me, we were doin' a chakra exercise just off the coast- must have been for school, now mind you, this was Land of Rivers, where the deltas are. Water gets shallow and they take the kids there to practice water walking and stuff. Anyway. Your grandad and I were out there learning with all the kids, and everyone's just strugglin' up a storm, half were sinking up to their knees and all that, I think at one point I was ankle deep in mud and thought I was finally getting somewhere!" Hijiki smiled and nodded. He'd heard the story before, knew it by heart in fact, but it was a favorite of his.

"And here, Shichimi has planted that one," he gestured in mock accusation to Butsu, who was laying silent in the open clearing, "up the river that morning and told him to meet the class at noon. So ya got all these damn kids trying to stand up on the water, and here comes Butsu- he was almost four feet long at that point and fat as all hell- comes tearing into the water from the river, kicking up a wake and everything. Broke everyone's concentration and flipped 'em all into the water- except your grandad and me, cause we were expecting it." He paused to cough roughly on the smoke from his cigarette, "I'll tell you what, I've never seen a gator so proud."

Hijiki laughed, shaking his head, "You said when you were kids- I remember you pulling stuff like that when I was little. I think Granny's still bitter about how many times she caught you chasing each other around the restaurant with her kitchen knives."

"Oh, yeah I caught several of her sandals in the face over the years for that," Sansho confirmed, "She's never gotta worry about you though, you're too responsible for all that."

Hijiki thought back last night when he'd made Wakame fall face first into the gator pond, "Yeah." He paused, "I kinda have to be though if I'm gonna steal your job someday." Hijiki balled his fists up on his knees as he leaned forward. The joke had triggered a wave of underlying stress that had weighed on him since his own father had declined the opportunity to head the clan after his grandad had died. It wasn't that he didn't want to lead, but the heaviness of that impending responsibility had long-shadowed his perception of how he focused his efforts.

Sansho scoffed, "I'm doin' a fine job, thank you, with Nameko's help, true- but I'm poster man for 'not up to the job' and I'm still coming to work ain't I?" He turned to his great nephew, "You can afford to loosen up there kid, you couldn't possibly do worse."

Hijiki met his uncle's eyes, which betrayed a hint of genuine concern for the boy's confidence, "Uncle Sansho, I just don't know that I'm ready to do all that. Or that I'll ever be?"

Sansho nodded sagely, dragging on his cigarette, "The good news is, ya don't have to be yet. I wasn't when I was a young man, but Shichimi was. Your father wasn't ready a few years back, so I made sure I was. Hijiki," a strong hand settled on his shoulder, "you only have to be ready for what you can handle in this family. But just between us? I know you have it in 'ya, kid."

The teen took in the reassurance. Logically, he knew the clan leadership was determined on a volunteer basis, and that they would respect his decision whether or not he decided to take over from Sansho. But some part of him felt like he had to make up for his dad not accepting the role. He didn't want to feel like he was disappointing the memory of his grandad. Hijiki also knew this wasn't something he needed to worry about quite yet, but since his grandad had passed when he was seven, he tried to preserve his memory in whatever way he could. And he couldn't deny that losing track of Wakame so completely made him feel like he was not as destined to take on a leadership role as Sansho seemed to think.

The two sat in silence, watching Butsu grow sleepy on the damp ground. When Sansho's cigarette had reached its limit, he extinguished it on the log and stood up, stretching his back until it popped loudly.

"Ouch?" Hijiki mused absent-mindedly has he, too, stood.

Sansho continued to stretch his limbs, cracking his joints with abandon, "Nah, it's good for the ol' bones. I'm probably gonna go another half hour or so, you wanna join me?"

Hijiki smiled, "Next time for sure, I'm gonna head back to the Gator Pit. I'm sure Granny's already chewing out Wakame by now."

"Right, you go rescue your brother, y'all have a good night," Sansho said, giving Butsu another hearty slap on his side. The alligator's eyes opened with a grumble and he heaved his thick body up onto his powerful legs.

"You too, Uncle Sansho," He followed the already-moving Butsu through the tall grass on the other side of the clearing as Sansho's water clones materialized once more and the Shimizu clan head started his fight again.

"Ugh, finally." Kisame sat tense in his seat, bouncing one leg impatiently as the truck heaved into a parking lot bordering a rather tepid looking pond. It had been an astronomically long leg of the journey- it always was when they left Mist. Two long ferry rides to get out of the islands, and several more bleak hours along densely forested roads, across the peninsula to reach the far eastern border of Waves country. In all honesty, the men probably could have stood to stop before now, but Kisame had rushed them out the door this morning with excuses about getting to this rest stop by nightfall, and Itachi was, quite frankly, going to be stubborn about it.

"You wanted to power through today." He quipped at his partner.

"Fair, but I've gotta piss like a racehorse, and last time we stopped was at that nasty gas station four hours ago."

Itachi shrugged, "Just do what I do. Don't drink anything all day. No pee."

"Oh yeah, that's a great way to pass out while driving on the freeway." Kisame was already unbuckling his seatbelt. Itachi pulled into the long row of parking spaces, closer to the pond than to the rest area building at the other end of the parking lot.

"Haven't done it yet. Grab me a coffee in there."

"Three cream, six sugar?"

"Yup, thanks."

The larger man was already out of the cab before Itachi had fully engaged the break. He watched the receding shape of his partner move towards the building. The simple wooden structure served as the only dedicated rest area on their route from Kiri to the Corvid Couriers distribution center, and the stop's attendant was a gruff, elderly woman who never asked questions. Itachi, despite his stubbornness to make Kisame regret waking him up so early, was grateful to be off the road for a moment. He shut off the truck and revelled in the silence, leaning back against the worn headrest and allowing his eyes to slide closed. They burned slightly, trying to resupply moisture lost over hours staring at the road. His past life shook its head and scolded him for being so careless- to nap in an exposed vehicle was practically inviting enemy operatives to make their move. It was beyond careless to let his guard down like this, and he'd have his own slack to blame if anything happened. His current life- Nezumi's life- shrugged, and allowed Itachi to shift over to rest his exhausted head on the worn seat. Kisame would be a minute, and maybe he could just let himself doze off for a moment. He felt himself grow heavy in the steadily dimming light of early evening. The familiar warmth of the truck cab held him like his own bed, and Itachi allowed sleep to overtake him.

-For only a moment.

He was jolted out of his nap by the sound of something falling in the cargo hold.

Ugh, great. Now he had to go see what had shifted in transit. He hoped it wasn't a mess, cause he really didn't feel like figuring out that dilemma tonight..

Wait. The truck should be empty. They'd unloaded that last cargo at the Shimizu compound, and his bags were in the bins- Maybe-

Another thump from the back of the truck, and Itachi sat upright, very slowly, listening.

Footsteps.

Faint, but unmistakable. Someone was walking around in the cargo hold, and Itachi had actually let himself nap. He could get to reprimanding himself later, now he had to deal with this. He felt himself- without any conscious effort on his part- slip into that automatic survivalist mode that he'd lived the majority of his life in. The footsteps were light, but quick, as they moved to where he knew the back door opened. He listened with keen ears as he vaulted silently out the still-open driver's side window, so as to not make unnecessary noise fiddling with the creaky cab door. The back of the truck seemed quiet, and the consideration crossed his mind that whatever was in there was waiting for him to make the first move, poised to attack.

Itachi ran through an ocean of possibilities in a second. He'd been discovered, someone had found out he and Kisame were still alive, and had come to kill them- or worse, capture them to figure out how. This was not something he intended to allow. He brushed his fingertips at his thigh, where three kunai were strapped to his leg, concealed by a panel of fabric on his pants. He had not needed to use them for defense in quite a while, but habits do not die that easily when they keep you alive.

There were no signs of damage that he could see as he rounded the back of the truck. No tampering or possible points of entry, unless it was a roof entry, but that would have been very difficult to pull off without either he or Kisame hearing. The door's keyhole and handle looked fine as well. In moments like these, Itachi wished that he'd gotten ahold of another sharingan. Without the eyes, his sensory and tracking ability had vastly deflated, as well as his basic recall.

He huffed quietly as he poised himself to wrench open the heavy door and confront the intruder. Just as he placed the key at the edge of the lock, he could hear it. A rattling noise from the other side, as though something was scrambling for purchase where the door met the floor. Did this idiot not know he was there? At least he had the advantage…

In one fluid motion, Itachi ripped away the panel concealing his weapons and drew one in his left hand, while shoving the key into the lock and heaving up the door with his right. The metal gave a horrendous screech, protesting as the door flew up on it tracks to expose whatever conflict lay on the other side. Itachi gritted his teeth and stilled the shake in his hands- that was new.

He saw the human figure and reacted before he registered the presence of a Kiri forehead protector; it was by sheer reflex and shock that he managed to reign himself in mid-lunge, kunai brandished. His brief flash of killing intent hung heavy in the air.

Wide eyes blinked in the light from the setting sun. Tanned, round cheeks drained of color as they absorbed the sight of the kunai and the murderous look dissipating from the man's face. Itachi's shoulders slumped as a very strange mixture of both relief and intense stress took hold of him. The intruder and- now that he took full stock of the situation- his lizard companion were of no real threat to him in a physical sense, but they posed a massive risk to every other aspect of the sham his life was centered around. Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki, world class criminals and notoriously dead men, and just managed to accidentally kidnap a clan child.

The kid in question raised his palms defensively, eyes still locked on Itachi's fist grasping the kunai. Wakame's voice cracked ridiculously as he spoke, "N-nezumi-sama? I'm really sorry, but I need to go to the bathroom right now."