"You are an idiot," hissed Tsunade, for what felt like the tenth time that day. She had her head in her hands, sitting in a chair she'd pulled up close to Sensei's desk.
"I am not," snapped Jiraiya, gritting his teeth and trying to reign in his own temper. This is what he got for not insisting that this conversation with Sensei was private. It was partially his fault for barging in on Sensei without checking with the secretary. He was used to being able to take certain liberties with the old man and rudely barging in, no matter time or company, was one of them. He should have taken into account that Sensei's "company" might be his own two stubborn teammates, who both knew he'd been summoned by a source in Grass Country and would be too interested in the fruits of his travels to accept "it's private" as a good enough reason to scram. They'd seen way too much of each other's sorry lives to respect something like "privacy."
Orochimaru snorted contemptuously from where he was reclining on the sofa pressed back against the far wall of the Hokage's office.
Sensei just sat in his chair, puffing away on his pipe, arms folded, eyes closed—as if this bickering was an everyday occurrence. Which, for him, it more or less had been for the past twenty years.
"Look Princess," said Jiraiya, eyes narrowing. "What was I supposed to do, just leave the kid there? Let Kusa stick her in their sub-par military and accept the fact that she probably won't live past the first year of the war, whenever it eventually starts?"
" Yes!" Tsunade picked up her head to glare at him with fierce amber-brown eyes. "Because she's probably not even yours! Because every nation is on the verge of war and isn't it awfully convenient that it's only now this strange woman from a small allied nation comes forward claiming to have your child?"
"I confirmed it, first," bit out Jiraiya. "I wouldn't have brought any of this to your attention if I wasn't absolutely sure she was my kid." He had known Tsunade would be irate, and sure enough, the first thirty minutes of this conversation had been variations of "I told you so, you moron" from the blonde, peppered with superior knowing looks from Orochimaru. Sensei had yet to actually say anything.
Jiraiya felt like he was twelve years old again, and was just itching to tackle them both and grind their faces into the mud. He was thirty, why couldn't they trust him to act like an adult and not an impulsive kid?
"I don't understand what your problem is Princess. I need you to climb down from your moral high ground and actually help me here. Because look, it already happened, the kid is coming here whether you like it or not, and I could use your help instead of your ridicule. That goes for both of you." He leaned back in his chair to glare at his dark haired teammate. "I don't understand why you're so worked up about this."
Tsunade looked like she might dissect him with a scalpel if she had one on hand, slapping a palm to the desk so hard that Sensei's baubles and paperweights rattled sideways. Sensei's hand popped out automatically to catch Tsunade's neglected coffee mug before it could drop to the floor and shatter. He set it back on the table, all without opening his eyes or dislodging his pipe.
"We're so worked up because we're worried about you, you huge oaf!" Tsunade said intensely, still looking like she might leap up from her seat and take a more hands-on approach to find out why his brain wasn't working. "You wear your heart on your sleeve and anyone with half a mind could see this would be an easy way to get under your skin, get into your life-"
"And, interfere with your performance and Konoha's overall effectiveness," came Orochimaru's smooth drawl. "It would actually be an opportune time for any of our enemies to execute such a plan." His yellow eyes wandered over to Tsunade. "Although, I do doubt the ability of a child to fake a chakra signature."
"Fuinjutsu on the kid, genjutsu on Jiraiya," snapped Tsunade, ticking off possibilities on her fingers.
"Honestly," Jiraiya bristled. "I've not fallen for an illusion-"
"I don't care," rebutted the medic nin. "I won't believe she's yours until I've overseen every aspect of the DNA test myself and have the results in my angry little hands." She drummed her fingers against the mammoth desk that had been a silent witness to most of their team's arguments.
Jiraiya frowned and crossed his arms defensively. He opened his mouth to-
"Look at you," huffed Tsunade. "You're already attached to her aren't you? You've not even known her for a week and you're ready to go to battle for her," she drew out her last words, "against us."
Her brow was furrowed and her mouth pursed in displeasure. Jiraiya tried very hard not to think about how pretty she looked when she was this angry. It really wasn't fair for her to look so attractive when she was on the opposite side of the argument. It was very distracting.
Orochimaru was examining his nails, but he wasn't adding anything to Tsunade's speech, which usually meant he felt she was representing his concerns adequately.
Admittedly, it was nice to know that his teammates' concerns stemmed from their usually unacknowledged desire to protect him from his own idiocy. But this time, their worry was misplaced. He could take care of himself.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reigning in his temper and leaning back in his own chair. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, I understand you're worried about me. We've all, usually as a joke, talked about 'what-if's' for years now. I have listened to what you've said on those occasions, believe it or not, and I wasn't acting rashly. I confirmed it with the best sensor I know, who has never been wrong and knows my own chakra signature intimately. I'm defending her because she's my kid, that's what parents do."
He opened his eyes to meet Tsunade's doubtful gaze and found that Sensei was casting an assessing one of his own at Jiraiya as well.
"You'll like her," the toad sage pressed forward. "She's smart. She's verbally advanced, she already understands large words like precocious and aesthetic-"
"Clearly not your child then," muttered Orochimaru.
Jiraiya was going to ignore that, for now. "She can read as well as your kid Sensei, and she's a quick learner. She picked up the first two basic chakra exercises the Academy teaches within thirty minutes-"
"You taught an unsupervised four year old to use chakra?" Tsunade said flatly. "If she really is from a completely civilian lifestyle, who's going to be able to monitor and step in if she overdoes it? Kids always do, it takes them a while to learn their limits and they don't realize how seriously they can damage their systems at that age!"
He probably should have kept that quiet. "Make up your mind! You can't pretend you want nothing to do with her or that she's an evil plant by a foreign country and then yell at me for negligence and say I should take better care of her!"
"Civilian background, you said?" Orochimaru looked pensive. "Perhaps it would have been better if you'd removed her completely from her mother's care. If she is already that advanced developmentally, it may be hard to recondition her to an optimal mindset for a military career."
Jiraiya's mouth fell open. "She's not some type of experiment! She's clearly very attached to her mother, who is doing a pretty good job of raising her from what I can tell. It would be wrong to separate them, it would devastate both of them."
"Or that's what she wants you to think," quipped Tsunade as Orochimaru gathered himself to further expound upon his point.
"Enough!" Said Sensei, clapping his hands and sounding exasperated with all of them, as usual. The trio turned mulish gazes upon him.
He removed his pipe and tapped it against the edge of the desk. "I've heard all your points and this is what we're going to do." The three waited for his verdict, two of them tense and the third adopting his best 'merely curious' posture.
"The child and her mother will both come to Konoha, in accordance with Jiraiya's assurances." Sarutobi said sternly, making some notes of his own to get the necessary paperwork started.
"But Sensei-"Tsunade protested as Jiraiya sagged back into his chair in relief.
"Enough Tsunade," stressed the older man. "I believe that Jiraiya-kun has handled the situation to the best of his abilities, and has shown good reasoning and foresight in the decisions he's made so far on this matter." He dipped his head in acknowledgment of his typically rash student.
Jiraiya fidgeted, uncomfortable with the praise.
"We won't be taking the child from her mother, Orochimaru," said the Sandaime, absently. "That's just not how things are done here in Konoha—even if you have a valid point that it might be easier for her to adjust to her new career expectations if she's separated from a mother who holds anti-shinobi sentiment."
The dark haired sannin shrugged, as if it didn't matter much to him in the end. His blank expression cloaked any hint of personal disagreement with his teacher.
"However," Sarutobi continued idly, shuffling the papers on his desk. "I agree with Tsunade and Orochimaru that the timing is suspicious, and it won't hurt anyone to exercise extra caution. For that reason, Jiraiya won't be going to retrieve the girl. We'll send a neutral party, who we can trust to be sensitive to the situation and make objective observations. As soon as the girl arrives in Konoha, Tsunade will immediately perform what she deems to be the appropriate tests to confirm paternity. Jiraiya will have no further contact with the child until Tsunade confirms she's his." He looked up at his audience: Tsunade smug, Jiraiya sullen, and Orochimaru, for all intents and purposes, dozing in apathy. "Is that understood?"
A chorus of "yes, Sensei" met his ears and he nodded.
"Who are you thinking about sending to get her then?" Jiraiya asked, rubbing at the back of his head and still looking mutinous.
"I wouldn't mind going," offered Orochimaru calmly.
Jiraiya blinked in surprise at the unexpected offer, turning to his friend, "Really?" He certainly would feel better about everything if he could trust whoever was going to pick them up, but Orochimaru was notoriously difficult to get out of his lab.
"It will be interesting to meet the girl, see if she is as quick as you say or if you're truly just blinded by ridiculous paternal sentiment," drawled the snake sannin.
Jiraiya puffed up defensively-
"No, no," the Sandaime chided, the same way a mother might say 'not now, children.' "You left your toads there, yes?"
"Uh-huh'" Jiraiya grunted affirmatively. "I was planning on reverse summoning myself back to Kusa—save a bit of travel time. The toads are set to pull me back in three days."
"Good," said Sarutobi, retrieving his pipe with calloused hands. "We'll send Minato-kun the same way, and he can bring them back on foot. It'll give him plenty of time to observe them and it's an appropriate mission for that young team of his."
Jiraiya cheered up a bit, comfortable with the suggestion, making a mental note to send out an update to the toads he'd left that they'd be reverse summoning Minato-kun rather than Jiraiya.
Tsunade stood with a sigh. "Are we done here?" She asked impatiently, satisfied with the outcome of things and clearly ready to get back to the hospital. She shot Jiraiya a suspicious look. "You're not hiding any more kids are you? This isn't the moment you tell us she has a twin, is it?"
Jiraiya sniffed haughtily, "No. I'm done, thanks Princess."
Tsunade rolled her eyes and muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath.
"Wait," called Jiraiya, twisting around in his chair as Tsunade and Orochimaru headed for the door. "When she comes, her mother won't know anyone here. If anything happens to me I'd feel a lot better knowing you two had promised to look after her."
Tsunade pulled back, affronted. "You don't even know if she's your kid-"
Orochimaru cut her off by placing a hand on her shoulder. "You know we'd watch out for any of your children, your student included, if anything should happen."
"Well, I know you'd do it unofficially," Jiraiya muttered, scratching his cheek as he flushed, unexpectedly embarrassed and hesitant. "And I guess this is a little late, technically, but I was hoping you'd each agree to be her godparents?"
Tsunade paused, and then raised her eyes heavenward as if praying for patience. Finally, she tilted her head back down and pinched the bridge of her nose. "If this kid is really yours," she promised, sounding pained, "I'll be the best fucking god-mother on the face of the planet."
Orochimaru scoffed. "Well obviously, I'll still be the better godparent, because I'll manage to do it with less cursing and alcohol. And probably without imparting a gambling habit either."
Jiraiya grinned and said a quick thanks as Tsunade slapped their teammate upside the head and the two left the office, bickering quietly with each other.
He turned back in his chair to face Sensei, only to find the other man puffing on his pipe and staring steadily at Jiraiya, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes.
"What?" asked Jiraiya. Is there something on my face? He scratched his nose again, just in case.
"Oh nothing," mumbled the Sandaime, turning his attention back to his paperwork. "Only, it makes me feel so very old to see all three of you acting like grown-ups, even if it's just occasionally. So very old, and so very proud."
Jiraiya ducked his head, hiding his childish thrill at the praise. "Well don't get used to it," he said, voice gruff. "We're supposed to be keeping you young, after all."
"You've been putting forth an excellent effort," agreed the Sandaime. "If we're judging by the collective level of maturity the three of you typically display in my presence."
"It's good to have people to keep you on top of your game." Jiraiya teased his teacher with his usual wide grin.
Sarutobi's eyes had a distant sheen to them. "I'm not sure I have much more game in me, Jiraiya-kun."
Jiraiya's smile dropped. "Sensei?"
"I'm tired, Jiraiya-kun," said the Hokage frankly, face blank. "I'm tired and this war hasn't even officially started yet."
"Sensei," said Jiraiya, voice atypically concerned and grave. "Now would be a horrible time to retire."
Sarutobi waved off his concern. "I'm perfectly aware of that. If we're going to war, Konoha will do better with me at the helm, despite how capable I think the three of you are." He sighed. "No, you three are still of best use in the field I'm afraid. Heavens, I can't even get Orochimaru and Tsunade to take apprentices yet, much less a genin team. We're going to have to address that soon."
The older man rearranged some of the ornaments on his desk that Tsunade had displaced in her temper. "I have one more war in me, Jiraiya-kun. That's it."
Jiraiya nodded, his voice full of gravel. "I understand, Sensei." And he did. He understood that if he didn't want to wind up under that god-awful hat, he was going to beat some social skills into Snake Face or find someone else better suited for the job. Oh no, please, anyone but that do-gooder Dan.
"Good," said the Hokage amiably. "Now go off and tell Minato-kun to come see me once you've found him, so I can officially give him the details for this mission."
"Sure thing," Jiraiya agreed. He popped to his feet and headed to the door.
"Oh, Jiraiya-kun," called the Sandaime, attention already returning to his document.
Jiraiya paused in the doorway and looked back for instruction.
"I'm sure you've already thought of this," Sarutobi elaborated as he reached for a pen. "But while it's fine to tell Minato about the situation, I think we should keep quiet about this to everyone else. I'm not even planning on letting Minato-kun tell his team about the underlying reason for the mission, do you agree?"
Jiraiya nodded. "I think that's the best plan, Sensei. Even when she gets here, I was going to try to limit the publicity of any relationship."
"While probably not entirely possible, I think that's a wise goal considering the climate," agreed the Hokage, waving his student off and calling for his secretary.
Jiraiya wound his way down and out of the tower, heading off to search for his own student. He knew why his teammates' were dragging their feet on agreeing to teach genin. Unlike Tsunade and Orochimaru, Jiraiya had already taken a team of genin. Heck, he basically had taken two. And, as far as he knew, only one of the six had made it through the last war alive. Those types of statistics dampened a prospective teacher's spirit a bit. And of course, to be good at it, like Sensei, you had to invest your whole heart into teaching. Know those kids inside and out, as if they were members of your own family.
Despite the myths surrounding the habits of ninja, the majority of them didn't actively seek out pain and heartbreak.
Although, Jiraiya seemed to be cursed more than most with his inability to keep kids alive.
And now he had another one.
Jiraiya started when he realized he'd come to a stop in the middle of the road. He made a weak attempt at smiling and muttered an apology to two women who apparently were acquainted enough with his reputation not to approach, but concerned enough to look like they were mulling over whether to find the nearest military police officer and ask for assistance. He picked up his step and continued on his way, quickly taking to some back roads to avoid running into anyone he knew who might call him out on his abnormal behavior.
Jiraiya wasn't the type of person to dwell on depressing thoughts for long, so he shook his head to clear his mind and headed toward the training fields where Minato should be with his own students. Hopefully talking about the situation with Minato would be easier than breaking it to his childhood friends; who seemed to think him incapable of taking responsibility for a potted plant, much less a child. Maybe he could ask the kid some questions about Kakashi-kun too, see if Sakumo's boy had developed a sense of humor yet or was still fatally deficient in that category.
All he could do now was try his best, right?
It hadn't been enough before, but, as the saying went, surely he was older and wiser now? That had to count for something.
It would have to.
Because Jiraiya wasn't sure he could handle yet another child dying on his watch.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Chiyoko's words blurred together as she reached out and accepted the sleeping bags from Hideki.
"It was easy enough," said her brother, taking a seat at the kotatsu table now that he'd been divested of the several boxes he'd brought to the house. "I just told the shopkeepers that I was planning on taking the boys camping. I had to buy some surplus, but the boys really will get some good use out of them eventually."
Chiyoko nodded, absentmindedly flipping her hair over her shoulder as she sorted through the rest of the items her brother had obtained.
"Did anyone see you bringing the stuff here?" Croaked a purple toad, peeking out from under the blanket to converse with the humans.
She hadn't turned the heater on, but the toads appreciated hiding under the covered table for some reason, so she'd gone ahead and brought out the heavier blanket even though the weather wasn't cold enough to warrant it.
"No." Hideki gave a grunt, seemingly nonplussed from conversing with an amphibian. "I bought everything two days ago and changed the bags and boxes. I told the neighbors I was taking some of Ma's old stuff over here because Eri didn't want it anymore."
Chiyoko tried not to jump as the other toad— Gekomato? Something like that—clambered over the lid to peer into the box she was examining.
"Looks good to me," said the toad. "That's everything we recommended. Now you just have to pack it all up." The creature blinked its large eyes before gazing up at Chiyoko. "Has the girl decided what to take yet?"
The woman's shoulders slumped and she pursed her lips.
Her brother laughed, low and dry, from the table. "She can't decide what books to bring, huh? You told her we'd ship the rest once you got there right?"
The school teacher sniffed and firmly closed the box, shooing the toad away from the items. "Books are important. Have you told Eri yet, that we'll be leaving?"
"Nuh-uh," Hideki gave a negative shake of his head. "She's not too good at holding her tongue when she's got the one with the best gossip." He smiled fondly.
Chiyoko hid her cringe. She wasn't always entirely fair to her sister-in-law. Eri was a gossip, conservative, and a bit flighty, but the woman did love Chiyoko's brother and her own children. She had no ambition beyond being a pretty, traditional housewife. And while that personally sat ill with Chiyoko, it seemed to work well for Eri and Hideki. They found a way to love each other and raise their family in that arrangement, and Chiyoko supposed that's what mattered in the end.
Hideki continued, oblivious to Chiyoko's thoughts. "I just told Eri you had me pick some things up for a class you'd be doing next week, since you are stuck in the house with a sick kid right now. She was happy enough with the promise you were paying for the things yourself and that you weren't leaving her to care for a sick kid all week on top of her own shit."
The school teacher sighed. She didn't like that her brother kept things like this from his wife (Eri wasn't a child, after all), but with the type of relationship Eri and Hideki had, Eri would, most likely, rather not know. She rubbed at her exhausted eyes and tried to focus on the conversation. "I can't blame her really, I'd hate the idea of anything increasing the chances my own kids would become ill too. It's hard enough caring for Katsumi when she really is sick, I bet your boys are a right handful when all three are ill at once." She bustled about the kitchen, pouring some tea to serve her brother.
"You're good with this right?" His hazel eyes were as earnest as they always were, but for some reason Chiyoko found herself choking up under his gaze. She'd never 'left' home before. The family had moved cities, closer to the Hidden Villages when her brothers had been taken (her Father had hoped they might see them or visit or something) but they'd all moved together. And Hideki had never been farther than a ten minute walk away, even when he'd moved out and married.
Chiyoko and her mother had moved into this small house after father's death, and Chiyoko had inherited it after her mother followed their father a few winters later. It was the house in which Chiyoko had studied for and earned her teaching license and that she had said goodbye to her mother in. She and Izumi had stayed up late for three weeks making Eri's decorations for Hideki's wedding in the living room. Katsumi had been born in the guest room and said her first words in the kitchen and taken her first steps across the engawa—
"I'll be good," promised Chiyoko, voice thick, eyes liquid. "I'm not right now, but I will be. This is what needs to happen." She laughed weakly. "I always knew I couldn't keep her a secret forever, not with who her father—"
"Mommy, Mommy!" Katsumi ran into the room, dragging a backpack on the floor behind her, her normally exuberant pace slowed down by its weight. "I finished packing, see?"
Chiyoko swallowed her tears and smiled. "I don't think so; you have to carry the backpack on your back by yourself, Honey. That's why I said no more than three books. Nobody else can help you carry your stuff and we'll be walking for a long time, so it has to be fairly light."
Katsumi visibly wilted. "But I can't decide, they're all good books," she whined, turning in place and tangling herself up in the straps of the pack.
Hideki hummed. "We'll send you everything else in a little while, it's not like you'll never see them again."
Far from reassured, Katsumi sat on the ground and promptly burst into tears, startling the toads which had gone to investigate her packing into squawks of retreat.
"Baby what's wrong?" blurted Chiyoko, straightening as she finished moving the boxes into a small storage room.
"'M never gonna see Uncle Hideki and my nii-sans again," Katsumi wailed, rubbing clenched fists over her eyes.
Chiyoko scooped up her sobbing child with a grunt. It won't be long before she's too big for me to carry at all. She deposited the girl in her uncle's lap.
Hideki awkwardly patted the girl on her back and sent a dark glare at his sister.
"I didn't think you even liked the boys," he said in an unsuccessful attempt at consolation.
"I don't like Shinji because he pulls my hair," managed Katsumi in between hiccups, twisting around to wrap her arms around Hideki's neck and burying her face in his collar. "But Jun-nii-san sneaks me coo-coo-cookies and Nori always listens to me read my stories and now they're never gonna be there aga-again." Her words became muffled as she turned her face fully into Uncle's shirt. Hideki turned his unusually helpless gaze upon his sister.
Feeling merciful, Chiyoko stepped forward to relieve her brother of his newly acquired limpet, only to pause at the sharp knock sounding from the door. She stilled and her panicked eyes turned to her brother.
Hideki's arms wrapped a bit more tightly around his small bundle. "It'll be fine, get the door." He stood with the girl and moved toward the far corner of the main living space, out of the sightline of the front door and entryway, but where he could still hear any conversation.
Chiyoko swallowed and nervously smoothed the folds in her dress. "I'm coming," she announced, as the sharp knocks came from the door again. She shooed the toads at her feet toward the kotatsu, watching them slip fully under it before she undid the chain lock with shaky hands and slid open the door.
"Yes?" She greeted the pair of men at her door with a question, eyes squinting in the afternoon sunlight. It took a second for her eyes to adjust, but the glint of hitai-ate in the sun was unmistakable. Her fingers tightened on the wooden door frame.
"Can I help you?" She felt like a field mouse under the gaze of hunting hawks, and her heart tightened as the younger of the pair smiled in what was most likely calculated to be an expression to put her at ease. Her eyes flickered briefly over the older of the pair, but he seemed bored and uninterested, dark gaze not even looking into the house behind her.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," the young man was polite and calm, gaze steady. "My name is Jiro and this is my partner Iwao. We were wondering if," his eyes glanced down at a list in his hands, he tapped his thumb against the clipboard. "Kinoshita Katsumi and her parents were in." He brought his eyes up to meet hers once more, smiling wide. "Might we talk to them?"
Chiyoko tried to speak around the stone in her throat, but was sure she came across as nervously hoarse. "I'm her mother, but I'm afraid Katsumi-chan's not feeling well today."
The younger man gave a considerate hum and pulled a pen out from behind his ear, making a note on the paper. "Is your husband home? We'd still like to talk to the pair of you, please."
"There's no husband," Chiyoko said stiffly, fighting down a blush of shame at the young man's raised eyebrow and suggestive second look over. "My older brother is here with me," she bit out, in an attempt to end that nonsense. "He brought over some medicine for my daughter. She's been sick all week and the apothecary says it's contagious, that's why I've been staying home with her and not gone into work. The doctor says she should be over it by mid-time next week if you'd like to come back then."
"We just have a few questions," insisted the spokesman, stepping forward and invading her space, acting as if he was going to force himself inside the house. "It won't take long—"
"We'll be back in three days." The older partner held out his arm, thwarting his younger companion's efforts to move forward. "We'll be in the area for the next week, it won't hurt us to postpone this visit and the girl should be well enough by then to talk with us."
Jiro opened his mouth to protest, but the older man whacked him upside the head and pushed him down the porch.
Chiyoko blinked up at him, perplexed.
"Sorry about him," Jiro said with an explanatory grunt. "The young ones forget how civilian life works. Three days," he turned to amble after his partner, adding one last afterthought: "you'll probably want your brother present for the conversation."
"Th-thank you," Chiyoko managed to squeak out, before giving a quick bow to the two retreating men (not that they were watching for it, but it never hurt anyone to be polite) and melting back into her house, fingers fumbling to redo the lock. She spun around and sank against the closed door, crossing her arms tightly against her chest as if that might be a successful strategy for warding off inquisitive Kusa-nin.
Hideki watched her with concern, Katsumi still in his arms. Her daughter had been wrapped in a throw blanket, probably just in case the Kusa nin forced their way inside despite Chiyoko's protests. Katsumi peeked out from the covers, green eyes wide. She seemed impossibly young and tiny as she peered out from the safety of her cocoon.
The toads emerged from their hiding spaces and hopped about, arranging themselves gracelessly about Hideki's legs as he sank onto a cushion.
"That was close," muttered the purple one.
"Was that the first time they've come?" asked the senior toad, eyes trained on the door.
"Yes," said Chiyoko as she crossed the room on shaky legs to collapse at the table with her brother. "They said they'll be back in three days. Jiraiya comes in two. Do you think they'll be back sooner?"
"No," said the toad thoughtfully. "There was no reason for him to lie to you, and they've probably been given orders to work with the families when necessary. I wouldn't take Katsumi outside though. Wouldn't hurt for her to pretend to actually be sick for the next two days—keep her in her nightclothes and no running or screaming or such."
"Boo," said the purple toad, deflating a bit. He'd been having a grand time wreaking minor havoc in the household with his newest ward.
"I could go get Jiraiya though," added the older toad. "If you were really worried about it."
"No," said Chiyoko, shaking her head. "It's just two days. We should be fine." She cleared her throat. "They had a list, Hideki-kun. They probably got it from the local schools and nurseries."
Hideki's unsurprised gaze implied he'd already come to that conclusion.
Chiyoko's felt like her intestines were being tied into knots. "I could try and take them too—"
"No," her brother shook his head, shaggy hair badly in need of a cut falling in his eyes. "I want them here. And Eri wouldn't—she wouldn't understand." He gave her a weak smile. "We'll take our chances. They're not like Katsumi; they don't have," he closed his mouth tightly. "They don't stand out that way. And Jun is too old anyways."
"You should go home." She whispered, nails digging into her arms. "And you probably shouldn't come back. I don't want anyone thinking you knew about this."
"You think that's best?" He looked unhappy at the suggestion, but understanding of the logic underlying the proposition.
"I do. I want to minimize the possibility that your family will face repercussions for this as much as I can. Now we can claim I arranged this in reaction to this visit, and that you had no idea about any of it."
Hideki nodded slowly, pressing a kiss to Katsumi's dark curls before setting the girl down on the couch. "You be good for your Mom now, right? You just stow that attitude of yours 'till you get to your new home. Then you can go cause as much trouble as you want for your Dad."
Katsumi nodded obediently, spirits dampened by the day's events.
"We'll write," he promised, pulling in his sister for a hug.
"Yes," Chiyoko agreed, doing her best not to give into the tears once more clouding her vision. "I'll write. I'll miss you. And the boys. And maybe even Eri."
Hideki snorted, but still held tight.
"Okay," agreed Chiyoko. "That last one was stretching it. But thank you. You've been the best brother."
"Nah," disagreed Hideki. "I've managed to make a right mess of things most times. And let you make a mess of things too."
"They've always turned out for the best," murmured Chiyoko. "And it's what's made me love you so much, that you let me make my own messes."
She could feel him nod against her hair and he finally pulled back. "You've always been the smart one, so I don't doubt you'll take care of yourself and the brat. But if you ever need to come back, I'll be here."
He stroked her cheek gently before pulling on his jacket and heading to his own home.
She stood staring at the closed door for long after he left. Until Katsumi's insistent tugs on her skirt began to be accompanied by a grumbling stomach and she realized she needed to feed her offspring.
She donned the ratty apron she'd had since she was seventeen and pulled out some pans from the cupboard. Katsumi sat at the table listlessly, tracing patterns on the tabletop with her tiny fingers. Chiyoko fixed a quick meal, but when she set the bowls out and sat down to eat, she found she had no taste for the food.
"We're not going to see them again, are we Mommy?" Asked Katsumi softly, pushing cold noodles across her plate.
Chiyoko didn't have the heart to scold her for not eating her food. It would be a bit hypocritical when her own plate was completely untouched. She stood and began to clear the table, firm in the conviction that she wouldn't lie to her daughter, but unable to voice the answer out loud for fear it would become prophesy.
Tsunade glared darkly at the journals in front of her, as if staring at them intently might make the contradicting sets of data suddenly make sense. The giggling of the night nurses from their station outside her office alerted her to the likelihood of visitors. The lack of a slap and offended gasps following the giggling narrowed the identity of the visitor to Dan.
She looked guiltily at the clock, just as the gentle knock of knuckles on wood assaulted her ears.
"Come in," she groaned, running her fingers over her head and up into her hair.
Dan cautiously opened the door. "Is this a good time to interrupt?"
Tsunade scowled. "I'm two hours late and you come in here and ask if you can interrupt?" She hunched down in her chair. "I don't know why you aren't barging in here yelling, I would be if our positions were reversed."
Dan just laughed and stepped fully into the office, holding out a bag of food as if it were a peace offering. "I know you, and I know how often you get lost in your research," he teased, eyes kind. "So I just decided to give in to the inevitable and bring you fancy foreign takeout instead."
"I love you," said Tsunade, honey-colored eyes sincerely locked onto the bag giving off delicious aromas. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Probably starve," said Dan, nodding gravely. He grabbed an extra chair and pulled it up to her desk.
"Very likely true," agreed Tsunade with a sigh, leaning back and letting Dan divvy out containers before launching into her latest dilemma with reviewing the reports on Konoha's stock of non-native medicinal plants.
"I'm just going to have to go down there and count them all myself," huffed Tsunade. "Which is a waste of my time, but now somebody in the department is either lazy or lying and I've got to figure out who it is and then why."
"Hmmm," agreed Dan, sucking on the end of his chopsticks before resting them gently in his bowl. "You want to tell me what's really got you all wound up?"
Tsunade wrinkled her nose. "That's it. I just told you."
"Liar," drawled Dan flirtatiously, reaching out to tap her nose with his utensils.
The blonde huffed in mock offense and swatted him away. "My teammate is a moron."
Dan eyed her speculatively. "Jiraiya or –"
"Of course it's Jiraiya," Tsunade cut him off in irritation. "Orochimaru is many things, but he's not stupid."
Dan shrugged. "Well last week you said he was a moron for proposing to proceed with the human trials of the Suna anti-venom before the rat trials."
"Well, yes," huffed the blonde, crossing her arms. "That was stupid, I don't care if he does have reports from Mist trials with fish. You don't skip the rats. But obviously that prompted Jiraiya to reclaim the title. Some woman claims she's had his kid, and he's gone and decided to believe her without paternity test results and I just know he's fallen in love with this kid already because he wears his fuckin' heart on his sleeve like a freshly minted genin and he's just—why are you laughing?" Tsunade glared at her fiancé.
"Because it's funny how hard you try to hide that you are just as much of a bleeding heart as your teammate." Dan stole the last spring roll as Tsunade gaped.
"I am not!" She settled for hissing.
"You are too," mumbled Dan, around a mouthful of food. He swallowed. "So, Jiraiya may or may not have a kid, but if he does then you're going to have to care about the kid too, aren't you?"
Tsunade glared at her lover. "I may have agreed to be godmother if she turns out to really be his," she reluctantly admitted.
Dan beamed. "A girl? How old is she? Is she Shizune-chan's age?" He stood and began to clean up the remnants of their dinner as he peppered his fellow med nin with questions. "Wouldn't it be nice if she and Shizune-chan can be friends?"
"NO!" Howled Tsunade, rubbing at her forehead. "Stop arranging play dates already. Not you too! We don't know anything about this kid yet and you're already—ugh, just stop it!"
Dan grinned, green eyes sparking with interest, "Well I'm going to have to, aren't I? Jiraiya isn't as impulsive as you paint him to be, and if he's certain the kid is his then that is good enough for me. Besides, if you are her godmother doesn't that mean I at least get to play Uncle?"
"Oh no, she can't call me Aunt. I'm not old enough to be an Aunt. And you already have a niece," sulked Tsunade. "Stop trying to acquire other people's children. Especially Jiraiya's."
Dan laughed and tugged on her coat until her back rested against his chest. He kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Just think of it as good practice for when we have our own someday," he teased.
"No," moaned the blonde, "don't say things like that, they'll come true. With my luck we'll have three at once and they'll all be girls and wear pink all the time! They'll have you wrapped around their fingers and won't listen to a word I say and run off to marry pacifist poets!" She turned her head into Dan's shoulder in despair as he continued to find mirth at the expense of her over-active imagination.
It would have to be cereal for breakfast, along with the last of the milk. Chiyoko hadn't gone to the market yesterday as she normally did. She didn't see the point in such a trip when they would be leaving today. Her eyes avoided looking at the packs laid out against the wall even as she ran through mental lists of items for the twenty seventh time to be sure she hadn't missed anything. In the background, Katsumi-chan sang a nonsense song about white whales that didn't rhyme or make much sense but kept her occupied enough as she waited at the table. Do I have enough produce to throw together some kind of salad?
"Incoming," croaked one of the toads.
"What?" Chiyoko turned with the bowls of cereal in her hand at the same time a loud pop, accompanied with billows of smoke filled the room. She shrieked, throwing the bowls of cereal forward in surprise, heart leaping upon hearing Katsumi's high pitched cry of fear.
"What is this? Why am I wet?" came the young, unfamiliar voice of a boy.
"Mommy!" Cried Katsumi.
Chiyoko stumbled forward at the sound, only to run head first into an unmoving human wall. She bounced backward, hands clutching her smarting nose.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am," spoke a different male voice in concern. "Are you alright?"
"WHY AM I WET!"
Chiyoko blinked her teary eyes, belatedly registering that the blood on her hands was hers, because apparently the stranger was secretly a boulder against which she'd smashed her poor, unprotected nose.
"It's milk, dumbass." Another new voice, also male, and young.
"Here, let me help you." She couldn't bring herself to protest as she was firmly pulled out of the kitchen, her vision clearing enough to realize she was being led by a young man with a Konoha hitai-ate. He was an attractive teenager, with bright blond hair and earnest blue eyes, but far too young for those sorts of thoughts. And, of course, a ninja.
"Shut up twerp, I know it's milk, I want to know why it's on me."
The sounds of a scuffle coming from behind her alarmed her enough so that she tried to turn, but the teenager was having none of it, and instead was forcing tissues into her hand and asking her to lean her head back as he guided her to kneel on the tatami mats.
"Stop it you two, you're scaring the baby!" A girl's voice this time, commanding.
"How many people are in my house!" Chiyoko managed to ask, swatting the blond stranger's hands away from her face at the same time Katsumi gave some protest about not being a baby, she was four thank you very much.
"Just us," replied the stranger, helpfully.
"Err-," the stranger clarified sheepishly upon being subjected to Chiyoko's glare. "The four of us that is; myself and my three genin. We're the team that's been hired to accompany you to Konoha."
Chiyoko blinked. "Where is Jiraiya-san?"
"Busy." That was all the answer the stranger was willing to give, seemingly more concerned with her nose. "Rin, come over here please. Can you take a look at this?"
"Yes, Sensei. Just give me a second to finish getting the cereal out of Obito's hair."
"I don't need— RIN!" The male voice was whining again.
The other male voice snorted.
"Don't be a baby Obito, there it's all out. Go change while we have a moment," bossed the young female.
Chiyoko blinked as the girl popped into her line of sight. She was younger than Chiyoko anticipated, perhaps eight or nine, with short brown hair, big brown eyes, and broad purple stripes on her cheeks.
She held a glowing green hand up to Chiyoko's face, and Chiyoko barely restrained herself from pulling away.
"Oh," the girl said, shoulders falling back in relief. "That's easy enough, it's not even broken."
"Oh good," breathed their leader, relaxing as well and easing into a smile. "Breaking your client's nose is never the best first impression to make."
The girl—Rin, it must be, pulled her hand back and Chiyoko gently reached up to touch her nose, reassuring herself that the bleeding had stopped.
"See," supplied Rin, "all better."
"That—that's good then," Chiyoko managed to stutter, swallowing her cry for Katsumi when the child appeared before her and clambered up into her lap. She automatically smoothed her hand over her daughter's head.
Two boys followed her daughter into her line of sight, one older than Rin and one disturbingly younger. Surely he was too young to be a shinobi? Her fingers tightened in her daughter's yukata.
"I'm so sorry for bursting in on you like this—"
Chiyoko's head snapped back toward the leader, who was apparently intent on soothing ruffled feathers.
"The toads were supposed to explain to you that we'd be arriving at this time today," he continued.
"They missed that," she said stiffly, still not certain what to think about this turn of events.
"Sorry," the blond apologized again, bowing his head. "Sometimes they forget what they view as unimportant details." He raised his head. "I'm Namikaze Minato, Jiraiya's student. He told me he spoke to you about me."
"Yes," agreed Chiyoko. She swallowed and finally allowed herself to calm down a bit now that she had a reference for the young man. "He spoke very highly of you."
"Good!" Minato grinned. "I'm glad he's not got an opportunity to tell you all the embarrassing stories yet. This is my own team," he gestured to the three children. "You've met Nohara Rin; she's training to be a medical ninja."
"It's nice to meet you," the girl bobbed her head politely, with a sweet smile that Chiyoko couldn't help but return.
"And the boys are Uchiha Obito," Minato pointed to the older boy, "and then Hatake Kakashi, who happens to be the youngest ninja in our village, he's a bit of a prodigy that way. We normally don't graduate students until they are at least eight or nine."
Chiyoko blushed, apparently her unease with the boy's youth had been quickly read. She didn't like needing reassurance from a teenager. "You seem awfully young to have a team of your own," she settled for saying.
Minato grinned confidently. "I assure you ma'am, I may seem young, but I'm one of the best."
She couldn't tell if he was over-confident or just self-assured. She supposed she'd have to reserve her judgments and see how the boy handled himself.
"I'm hungry, Momma," interrupted Katsumi, tugging on Chiyoko's dress.
Chiyoko sighed. "My name is Kinoshita Chiyoko and this is my daughter, Katsumi-chan."
"And I suppose it's her breakfast I'm wearing," drawled the boy with dark hair and goggles.
Rin scowled. "I thought you were going to change your shirt, Obito."
Obito blushed, scratching at his nose. "This is the only shirt I brought, my Grandmother hadn't finished the laundry!"
"Obito-kun," scolded his leader. "You've known about this mission for several days now. Why didn't you do your own laundry when I told you to do preliminary packing?"
The youngest boy rolled his eyes.
"Obito, you were going to wear one shirt for the entire trip back to Konoha?" Rin hissed, nose scrunched as if she could already smell the result of that plan.
"I would have washed it along the way," squawked the boy defensively.
Chiyoko cleared her throat. "I have some nephews around your age Obito-kun. I believe I have a few of their shirts lying around, I can probably find something to fit you."
"Thank you, Chiyoko-san, we'd be grateful for that," said Minato, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache.
"Huuuungrrryy," whined Katsumi, twisting in her mother's grasp and pouting.
The Hatake boy snorted dismissively and Katsumi winced, shrinking against her. Chiyoko frowned and rubbed her daughter's back, not liking the way the boy looked at her daughter.
Minato stood and cuffed the youngest lightly upside the head as he rose. "Behave, Kakashi."
He held out a hand for Chiyoko and helped her to her feet. "I'm sorry, although we're very capable, this is still a young team and I'd ask for your patience with my trainees."
The way he emphasized the last word made all three children frown and Chiyoko could only nod as she retreated into the kitchen to re-fix Katsumi's breakfast and then find the older boy a couple of spare shirts.
"You've packed light," said Minato, tone approving as he reviewed the packs that had been kicked aside in the earlier chaos.
Chiyoko nodded hesitantly. "The toads said—"
"Mommy, the toads are all gone," Katsumi cried in wonder, darting into the living room and then darting out again.
"Would you hold still for one minute," Obito cried, giving chase with a hairbrush.
"I thought you said you were good with small children," commented Kakashi, observing them both as he sat on a cushion.
Obito made a rude hand gesture that Chiyoko decided to ignore as it was made out of Katsumi's eyesight.
Rin ignored them as she washed the party's breakfast dishes.
"They do that," Minato stated. "The toads I mean."
Chiyoko decided to pretend she understood whatever the hell he was talking about.
"So," said Minato, clapping his hands together. "It looks like you're both packed and ready to go, is there anything else you needed to do, any goodbyes you needed to make?"
"Caught you!" Howled Obito triumphantly, carting a giggling Katsumi back into the living room over his shoulder. He plopped them both down on the floor. "Now hold still, I don't want to pull your hair."
Chiyoko shook her head. "No, we've said all our goodbyes already and I didn't want to—"
"Do you want me to dry the dishes too, or can we leave them to dry on the counter?" Interrupted Rin, gesturing to the ceramic plate in her hand.
"The counter is fine," assured Chiyoko.
"You didn't want to what?" asked Minato, prompting her to finish her earlier train of thought.
"Oh," Chiyoko started, nervously fidgeting with an old bracelet of her mother's that she now wore for luck. "I didn't want it to be clear that anyone knew I was leaving or was helping me to leave. I didn't want anyone to be in trouble once we were gone."
"Sensei mentioned something about that," said Minato, crossing the room to look out the window. "He said that we might experience some trouble getting the two of you out. Have you had contact with any Kusa nin since seeing him?"
"We'll make you look pretty as a princess," crooned Obito, pulling Katsumi's locks into a complicated braid as the girl sat patiently in front of him.
Rin giggled. "Here Obito, use these." She handed him a few colorful hair ribbons she'd found in Katsumi's room.
"Oh, thanks!" He chirped.
"Yes," said Chiyoko, pulling her eyes away from the shinobi playing with her daughter's hair. The youngest of the trio, while ignoring his teammates, was listening intently to the adults' conversation. "We had two come by just a few days ago saying that they wanted to talk to Katsumi and I. I told them Katsumi was sick, and they said that they'd be back tomorrow."
Minato hmmed, keeping whatever he thought about her words to himself. "Well, hopefully we won't be seeing them as we leave town. But if we do run into any ninja, please leave the conversation to me. I don't expect things to turn violent, but if they do, my students have orders to see to your safety so please follow their instructions."
Chiyoko nodded, not entirely certain she'd be able to follow the orders of children, but acknowledging that the only time she'd been violent in the last ten years was when her sister-in-law called her daughter names, and even then she hadn't hit the woman hard enough to leave as much as a bruise. That experience wouldn't be particularly helpful, she imagined.
"You should probably get your daughter ready—" Minato cut himself off with a mildly surprised, "Oh."
She turned to see Katsumi fully dressed, hair neatly braided, favorite toy rabbit in her arms and pack on her back. Obito had one hand firmly gripping the handle on Katsumi's backpack. Rin stood a few steps behind him, looking partially bemused and as if she was ready to intervene at a moment's notice.
"See, Sensei," said Obito. "I told you I had this." He looked up at Chiyoko and confessed, "I have, like, a zillion little cousins and since I'm always in trouble, I'm always stuck babysitting."
Chiyoko felt her lips twitching.
"Good job, Obito," praised Minato. "I'd say we were ready to go, but what have you done with your own pack?"
Obito looked around in alarm, before his missing pack was thrust up into his face by his youngest teammate.
"You left it in the kitchen, idiot," grumbled Kakashi.
Chiyoko scowled, deciding it was time to make clear that this type of conduct would not be tolerated. "Kakashi-kun, I understand you're a shinobi even though you're young, so I'm going to do my best to hold you to the same standards that I hold your teammates to."
Kakashi eyed her warily.
"And," Chiyoko continued, "That means that I'll ask all of you to mind your language and refer to each other politely as long as you are in my child's presence, please. And I'll expect her to treat you with the same courtesy."
Obito smirked, smug in the face of Kakashi's stiff displeasure at being reprimanded by a civilian.
"That goes for you too Obito," reminded Minato. "I saw that gesture you made earlier. Please remember the client's request and do your best to behave accordingly."
Obito's cheeks flushed pink and he ducked his head to study the floor.
"It's alright, Chiyoko-san," assured Rin. "I'll keep them both in line."
Chiyoko wasn't sure what to make of the way both boys cringed at Rin's cheerful declaration.
Rev. 5/2/2016