I scale the side of the orphanage, taking care not to wake anyone up. There isn't very much protection around the place, except for the wards that I personally put up around the boy's room. I dispel them silently and crawl in through the window. He's grown since the last time I visited. His hair looks even more like his father's, it's absurd. Not quite as untame as mine can be, but it comes close. I watch him breathe, snoring lightly as only children can do, his chest rising and falling steadily. It calms me. I smile and begin my ritual cleaning of his messy room. I remain quiet and always masking my chakra.
Watching him sleep makes me forget. I don't think about who I've lost or the titles I've gained or where my life is headed. I just exist and so does he. Nothing else matters.
It's this feeling that makes me wonder what my life would be like if I had a child of my own. Or if I wasn't a shinobi and could live on a lovely farm with a large happy family, not know what it's like to experience loss unless it has been expected for weeks from illness. But then the sun starts to rise, he shifts in his sleep, and I can't let him know that I'm here. I can't let him see that I care, as soon as he knows that I do, I know he'll die. That's what always happens. My sensei, my teammates, my father. As soon as our bonds grew, as soon as I acknowledged their importance to me, I lost them all.
I guess that's why you're forcing me to admit how much Cat means to me. He can take care of himself, he won't die when I tell him. That's your theory anyway, I'm sure.
I glance one more time in the window as the child sits in his bed, messes up his hair, and gives an atrociously loud yawn before I replace my wards on his room and disappear.
"I wonder who the kid is?" Tenten murmured curiously.
"If we knew that, we would know who the author's sensei was," Sakura sighed, this brilliant original idea of hers was just getting more and more complicated.
"WELL," came a rather loud shout from behind them causing the whole group to jump, "this looks like trouble." The group of teens stood frozen, not daring to turn around and find the source of that voice. Finally, of course Naruto was the one who had to look.
"Y-Y-Yamato-taichou!" He shouted, the rest of the group visibly relaxed. Yamato wasn't the type to go tattling on them and might actually be helpful in their search since he had been ANBU.
"What are you brats up to?" The man asked, frowning slightly at the unassuming journal in Sakura's hands that seemed to be the object responsible for occupying the kids. They all stumbled over their words trying to explain. Finally, Sakura silenced the rest with a look and gave Yamato an understandable answer.
"We were trying to find the author of this journal so we could return it to him," she said simply, and handed the book to him. "We were wondering if you could decipher any of it. He seems to be in ANBU." Yamato took the journal from her as the group watched him with bated breath.
He flipped through the first few pages, skipped ahead, read one section very intently, then skimmed again to the end, chuckling lightly. He tossed it back to Sakura.
"I'm surprised you haven't figured him out yet." Yamato turned to Shikamaru. "Especially you," he added.
"I have a pretty good idea, but it's too troublesome to explain to everyone else," Shikamaru grumbled. Yamato leaned closer to the teen and motioned for him to whisper his idea in his ear. A moment later Yamato had a light smile on his face, but refused to give Shikamaru an affirmative or negative answer.
He shook his head at the rest of the group in an amused manner.
"If you don't figure it out by the end of the night, I'll be incredibly disappointed. But, to give you all the hint you so desperately need: this is far from my first encounter with this particular journal. I haven't read the last entry, but I'm quite familiar with the rest." As soon as he registered their shocked faces, he grinned and gave them a lazy wave before heading back to his tent to get some sleep. He was sure he'd hear from them all again, as well as that pesky author, before the night was over.
Coming up on my own window, I can smell that Cat has done some cooking. Bacon, something minty, pancakes. I speed up, eager to confirm that it is him who has been making breakfast and not one of my more homey-type neighbors.
"Good morning, Senpai," he greets me from the kitchen, my window hasn't even been completely closed yet.
"Yo," I mumble, not quite ready to display my excitement over the food.
Cat comes into my view with a mug of steaming hot peppermint tea, the scent assaults my nose with a refreshing zing and I feel my face relax. I hadn't even realized how tense I had gotten in the minutes since my return. The tea reminds me that Cat is still Cat despite the fact that he is now my roommate. He is still the man who hates coffee unless he's hungover, still the one who consistently chooses minty flavors over spicy, and still the comrade who will never drink lukewarm or cold tea. I know him, I know this tea.
He leaves me alone to drink it as he walks back into the kitchen to set my little table with our delightful breakfast. Always proper, respecting my privacy. It's a pity I have no intention of doing the same for him.
He makes no further move to acknowledge me as I enter the kitchen, so I just lean on the doorframe, sipping my tea and watching him flip pancakes. So domestic, if it were anyone else I would comment on it, but this is Cat and for some reason, I don't want to make things more awkward between us beyond the living situation. I realize that I've been watching him for far too long when my eyes drag up to his face which is holding a very amused smirk. I resist the urge to be childish and stick out my tongue at him, instead I sigh dramatically, pretend he's the one who should be embarrassed, and bring up our next mission.