A/N: I really, really cannot believe that I have made it to chapter 3. I have impressed myself.

For the curious, here's why Sarutobi, Kakashi, and Iruka don't immediately say, "Duh, Danzou":

It could be anyone. Literally, anyone. If this was Kabuto sneakily approaching Naruto, then you'd all be asking me why they didn't pick up on how it was obviously Orochimaru's doing. If Haku had approached Naruto trying to gain the power of the Jinchuriki for Zabuza, then Zabuza would be the first person to come to mind. But that's because you know the truth, and when you see Sai you associate him with ROOT.

The thing is, Sai could be anyone. He could be working for any of the five shinobi nations, any missing-nin, any traitor, any criminal organization, any ambitious evil mastermind. He could be working for Mizuki, or Sasori, or Kumo, or the Hyuga. And Sarutobi and Kakashi are smart enough to know not to jump to conclusions.

Fifty Cents for an Art Lesson

Chapter III: Art of Interaction

Sai, for the first time in his life that he could remember, was anxious.

At least, he thought he might be- it was hard to say. Since he really couldn't recall ever feeling quite as he did then, he didn't have any prior experience that would better enable him to categorize the emotions that he currently felt. It was rather uncertain, but according to his social interaction textbooks, the somatic symptoms he was now experiencing correlated most strongly to the emotion of anxiety.

He really should just put aside all those sorts of nagging thoughts and focus on the mission.

The problem was that anxiety was just so unpleasant. If it was purely mental, like anger or frustration, he could have used meditation techniques to clear his mind and become calm. Likewise, purely physical feelings of discomfort could be ignored as a low priority. This, however, was a strange sort of fusion, both visceral and cognitive, that tangled his thoughts while simultaneously resulting in the biological reactions to emotional stressors.

His stomach was feeling strange, tense and heavy. Sai knew it was probably the result of his body registering his cognitive distress and reacting naturally by triggering his sympathetic nervous system into signaling neural pathways to glands which excreted adrenaline and other stimulating hormones. His brain would be reacting to a perceived potential threat by increasing his heart rate and his breathing, causing his pupils to dilate and and his blood vessels to contract, and blood to be withdrawn from his internal organs and his stomach, halting the digestive process.

Uncharacteristically, knowing the source of his discomfort did not bring relief.

From this, Sai inferred that he was in need of some quiet meditation to restore clarity. It was a pity that there was no time for it.

Sai was waiting in the empty clearing for Naruto Uzumaki.

And waiting.

And waiting.

And...

"He's late," Sai murmured to himself.

Not that such behavior was anomalous for the Kyubi jinchuriki.

Sai had been given the blond kid's file to read and memorize, so he'd have more context with which to analyze Uzumaki's behavior and form hypotheses. It had been rather brief: it seemed that many powerful people were determined that Naruto's data be kept private. It was telling that even the very best operatives- for surely the Commander had only sent the best- had only been able to gather such basic information about Naruto's background.

Sai was not ignorant of the opportunity he posed for the leaders of his organization.

He had no parents, no background, no real name, no documents- but most importantly, he had no verifiable connection to any shinobi group. He could never be traced back to Root- he was just a trainee, and due to certain ethical laws the Commander was not allowed to make them official ANBU members until they turned twelve, not without a special dispensation from the Hokage.

Those were troublesome for... certain reasons.

Besides, sometimes it was easier if you had a few operatives that the Hokage didn't need to know about.

Sai cast back into his memory for the 'file', a patchwork of brief, vague reports.

Naruto Uzumaki: birthday, October 10, 332. Underweight for his age group but not for his body mass. Blond hair and blue eyes. True name, according to agent in the Archives. Mother: Kushina Uzumaki, deceased in year 332. Her file has been destroyed and replaced with a fake, but we were able to find a record of a travel visa for a 12-year-old female of the same name who moved permanently to Konoha from Uzushiogakure in year 310. It seems that many of those who knew her have voluntarily submitted to memory wiping procedures. Interrogations have proved inconclusive.

Father unknown; his name has been thoroughly erased from any and all records. We could find no leads. Little is known about the mother's personal interactions, and the number of possible candidates is so large that his identity may not be presumed. None of the candidates currently in the village seems to show undue affection for him that may be deemed parental; likewise, results are inconclusive.

The subject was primarily raised in an orphanage until the age of seven. Little is known about his early childhood, except that he was never reported to have fallen ill or to have been subjected to bodily harm through intentional or accidental means. At age seven he was transferred to the Ninja Academy and is permitted to live alone in a heavily-warded apartment building. He receives weekly pensions directly from the Hokage and food and rent are also being provided free of charge from the War Orphan fund.

Uzumaki's exact test scores could not be found, but our understanding is that they are quite low so far. He is smaller and weaker than most of his male classmates and some of the females. He does not show much aptitude for stealth, strategy, or basic taijutsu. His academic scores are reputedly the worst of his class. There is no evidence of power gained from the bijuu. He has been known to have above-average stamina compared to what he should have, but in combination with his small stature it is no more than his classmates'.

None of it was much use, Sai decided with a frown.

A mother without a history and no father. A perfectly unremarkable childhood, for a war orphan. Mediocre to abysmal scores in class and no talent whatsoever. No evidence that the Kyubi sealed inside him had any effect at all.

He might as well have been a normal kid.

"Except..." Sai trailed off, uncertain how to put it into words.

Naruto Uzumaki.

Sai had felt the itch to draw the moment he'd seen the kid in the orange T-shirt. He never drew people; once or twice he'd had the itch to draw his older brother, but he hadn't so far. Humans were different. They weren't like animals, who existed honestly and simply and just were. People were inscrutable, multi-faceted, shadowy.

It was like trying to catch minnows in a pond: you could see them, reach for them, but then the smooth water would shatter into a million glimmering lights and you were left soaking wet with an empty hand. Water twisted the light just enough that where you saw the minnows was just a fraction away from where they actually were.

There was something animal about Naruto Uzumaki.

Not like the Inuzuka. They bred dogs, and dogs were so domesticated that they were too much like people. Even though they still had some of the same instinctive behaviors and reactions, their dogs had lost some of the basic roughness and dignity that undomesticated animals had naturally. Too much focus on pride, and dominance, and not enough independence. Just wildness. Dogs didn't like the human lies and deceptions and they didn't understand a lot of the emotions of people, but they were loyal to humans and they would willingly take part in such things at their companions' behest.

Naruto's face was honest, and warm.

Sai knew that he shouldn't have drawn Naruto Uzumaki.

He also knew that he would draw Naruto again.

ANBU Mission Log

Kakashi Hatake, ID No. 13815

The operative (hereafter referred to in first person) assumed the surveillance and protection of the subject (hereafter referred to by surname Uzumaki) from possible threat (assumed name to be 'Sai') at approximately 13:34 hours. Prior intel suggested that contact would be made in mid-afternoon, and all ANBU sentinel recon teams were put on high alert for the next twenty-four hours. Uzumaki was also provided with a mid-level emergency flare and cautioned to take care; however, it is doubtful whether he accurately perceives the danger of his own situation.

This unconcern was evident as he proceeded to spend two and a half hours wandering about town and taking part in various unimportant, childish adventures. (e.g., digging up worms, speaking with classmates, scrawling graffiti on public walls.) This behavior continued until (estimated) time of 16:00. At this point, he began to travel in the direction of the designated rendezvous point, a small clearing in the private sector of the woods near the Nara compound.

There, he made contact with 'Sai.'

Naruto couldn't quite keep himself from grinning in relief as he entered the clearing.

He came!

Sai was sitting in the clearing, under the same tree that he had been sitting in yesterday. He was wearing a black T-shirt and the same messenger-type bag as before. He glanced up when Naruto approached, and-

Well, he didn't smile exactly.

Or really at all.

But Naruto was pretty sure that he'd blinked a bit, and that was something! Besides, he already knew how weird and shy Sai was, even if he didn't have a talking problem like Hinata, and a blink might be how shy people said hello, and so it was a really good thing, and besides it didn't really matter anyway because Sai was the one who asked him to come and that meant that they could be friends, and Iruka-sensei was really awesome sometimes but he just didn't get that Sai was one of the good guys, and he wasn't evil or dangerous or anything, dattebayo!

And even if Sai wasn't smiling- well. That was no big deal.

What mattered was that there wasn't even a hint of a scowl.

Sai didn't wince when he saw Naruto. He didn't avert his gaze. He didn't flinch. Smirk. Glare. Frown. He didn't cross his arms or press his lips together. He didn't look scared, or contemptuous, or dismissive, or awkward, or ashamed. His eyes were empty, but they didn't have even a spark of hatred. He didn't ignore him, or pretend to be asleep. He didn't look startled when Naruto opened his mouth, as if Naruto were some sub-human class of being that couldn't speak intelligibly. He didn't snicker when Naruto walked by.

And that was nice.

So Naruto's smile widened, and he waved cheerfully as he approached. "Yo!"

Sai opened his mouth.

In appearance, 'Sai' is male, between the ages of seven and nine. He is not notable in appearance, with the possible exception of very pale skin. His hair and eyes are black, and his hair is cropped to his ears. He wore simple black clothing and possessed a shoulder bag of uncertain content. I have determined that his features are not the result of genjutsu; however, it may be the result of a higher-level medical restructuring jutsu.

Objectively, he is quiet in demeanor and precise in his movements. He is in accordance with the reports suggesting that he has an unusually developed vocabulary for someone of his supposed age. He is rather small, considering, and does not seem to have an abundance of muscle tissue- at a visual guess, I'd say he's slightly stronger than your average civilian child and much weaker than your average shinobi child. He does not have any blatant demarcations as a shinobi or mercenary in trade, and his clothing was similar to that made in the villages near Konoha.

Subjectively, I wouldn't trust him with my worst enemy. And I definitely wouldn't play poker with him.

The target was smiling as he approached.

Taking this as an external signal of nonviolent intention to interact- as he supposed it was intended- Sai relaxed slightly and shifted slightly out of his self-defense stance. It seemed moderately unlikely that the jinchuriki was concealing his true intention to attack, and in any case, Sai was certain that he would be able to react with adequate spare time if his judgment was mistaken.

"Yo!" called the target. "Hey, Sai!"

"Hello."

Naruto made a sudden movement.

Sai tensed.

Then the blond child suddenly whipped out a small, metallic object clenched in a childish fist.

Sai jerked back, skidding into a defensive position, mind racing- the Commander never anticipated this in his predictions; unfortunate, but escape is the highest priority. If they can get my body, they can trace me- has the jinchuriki been trained previously? Doubtless, they'd never send him out to fight if he hadn't been. Assume ANBU level or higher until otherwise determined, retreat at all costs, they can't have gathered so much info so quickly.

Then he stopped and actually looked for half a minute.

And his brain paused just long enough for him to hesitate.

And then, while his mind was still stuck on wait, what kind of a weapon is that because he'd honestly never seen anything like it, and while his feet were still stubbornly, stupidly locked in place, the target- Naruto- piped up brightly.

"Yo-yo!" he said with a grin. "For the lessons."

Sai gaped.

His brain stuttered, stumbled. Spun in uncomprehending dismay as he waited for some smidgen of information that might bring illumination on the subject. And then at last, stopped. Sheer conditioned reflex made him pause, review the last few seconds of his auditory recall, decipher sounds and inflections to review the actual words and analyze for meaning.

Then one word, sounding like mere gibberish, triggered a neural recall path.

"A toy sort of thing", Uzumaki had said.

And then, "I'll teach you.".

Sai's brain seized on the one familiar fragment and resumed its normal activity.

Nonviolent intentions are still likely. This was a false alarm due to incorrect conclusions on the part of the agent. An unforgivable offense, for one who was supposed to be undercover. Sai, the innocent war orphan, should have reacted with mild surprise and curiosity, not full alert. He would have to report this shortcoming to the unit commander upon his return, and would undoubtedly be subjected to further correction.

But now was the time to salvage the situation.

"I see," he said. "Shall we commence the art lessons?"

Uzumaki and 'Sai' exchanged pleasantries, and a weirder conversation I've never heard in my live. Then the two of them arranged themselves in the grass in the clearing, under a tall oak tree. I took a position in the tree to one side, to provide for for the unknown sensory capabilities of the enemy element. At this point, Sai produced several items from his bag, including scrolls, brushes, and ink. None of the items appeared to be intentionally dangerous, and Sai showed little intent of using them to endanger Uzumaki, so I decided not to intervene.

"All right," Sai began. "Do you have any prior experience?"

Naruto's face was blank.

"Have you ever attempted to draw something before?" Sai clarified. "Have you sought to create a two-dimensional linear representation of a physical artifact or structure?" He watched Naruto's expression, but the blond boy's eyebrows only furrowed more as he bit his lip.

"Um. No?"

"And calligraphy?"

"What?"

Sai frowned. "Please specify whether it is the vocabulary or the concept that troubles you before making an inquiry," he said, eerily void of any trace of irritation.

"Um, vocabulary?"

"Calligraphy is the form of writing most commonly used among merchants, businessmen, lawyers, and educated middle-to-upper class civilians. It is also commonly used in scholarly works; scrolls, books- and in legal documents. Many circles consider it a higher art form and devote much time and energy to its perfection. It is a vital skill to possess for anyone involved in politics or business. Used generally, the term may refer to handwriting or penmanship."

"Oh."

"Clearly you still lack some aspect of understanding," Sai observed. "You are displaying an expression that denotes dismay."

"Why?" Naruto asked. Catching Sai's eye, he corrected himself. "Concept, I mean."

"The study of calligraphy is found to be an effective exercise for absolute beginners," -Sai ignored Naruto's bristling- "and promotes the cultivation of skills which may be advantageously applied to other aspects of brushwork."

"Wh-" the blond paused. "Vocabulary?"

"Calligraphy as a skill emphasizes the use of brushwork that it detailed, precise, and effortless. These qualities are invaluable to an artist, especially as a novice. When you begin to draw contour drawings in ink- the ideal first step for a beginner, once an acceptable degree of skill has been accomplished- it is important that all your strokes are swift and sure."

"Uh-huh."

Sai surveyed Naruto's face, which he was beginning to suspect was being kept carefully blank.

"I suppose you may be better served by practice than by explanation," he said decisively. "In that case, we should begin our lesson as soon as may be permitted. Do you have any further inquiries to make?"

Naruto brightened noticeably. "Let's start!"

Sai reached across the grass to where his bag lay partly open. He deftly extracted some plain scrolls with red and green borders, the cheap kind that could be bought at any general store. Then he tugged on the end of a cylindrical aluminum container. The lid came off with a pop and when he tilted it, several brushes of moderate quality slid into his palm. He knew better than to waste his good brushes on a beginner- and brushes were valuable.

He tossed one of the brushes to Naruto, who examined it with open curiosity.

'Sai' appeared to be entirely focused on the supposed topic at hand; an 'art lesson', according to both parties.

There were no interactions that could be definitively classified as aggressive. If he (or she) knew that I was watching, there was no distinct physical acknowledgement. Likewise, 'Sai' did not press Uzumaki for information, classified or otherwise. I could discern no attempts at flattery, bribery, or obviously subversive rhetoric. Rather, it seemed that 'Sai' was treating Uzumaki with a pointedly cool demeanor, while Uzumaki was hanging onto his every word.

He does appear to have some significant experience with visual art, to the extent that his knowledge can be viewed as downright anomalous. It is possible that he (or she) is some sort of child genius, or merely exceedingly talented. This does not rule out the possibility that he was employed as a forger for documents or for artwork. The likelihood that he was an unusually talented civilian child who merely happened to be in the same vicinity as the Kyubi jinchuriki in time to befriend him and arrange future meetings is so unlikely that it might as well be dismissed out of hand.

Seriously: No. Freaking. Way.

You may quote me on that.

"That is by far the worst attempt at writing anything that I have ever seen," Sai commented, voice mild. "I can't even tell what it's supposed to look like."

Naruto glanced down in dismay.

He knew his handwriting wasn't very good. Iruka-sensei got on his case about it almost every day. Iruka'd only just begun teaching them the real hard kanji, anyway, but he wasn't even good with his hiragana. Most of the other kids had learned it at home or from tutors or just had gone to civilian school before starting the Academy. And, well, there had been some teachers at the orphanage.

But they'd done stuff like tell stories and play games and sing songs. And the teacher people had only come around once a week. Hokage-jiji had said that they were volunteers, so they couldn't teach all the time.

Naruto hadn't learned any hiragana before going to the Academy, and when Iruka had started teaching, he'd gone so quickly that Naruto hadn't had time to keep up. And he just wasn't any good at learning those kinds of things, anyway. Reading, writing, and 'rithmetic- ha. He liked fighting, even if he lost kind of a lot compared to the other kids. At least it was doing something. Words on paper just slipped away the instant he tried to seize them.

"Whatever," Naruto mumbled shamefacedly. "It's just writing anyway."

"It isn't important," agreed Sai, "if you don't need to learn to draw."

Ouch. That stung.

Naruto raised his gaze to meet Sai's, burning with hurt. "Well, I guess I'm just stupid, then," he spat, anger coloring his words. "Looks like you'll have to go away and find someone else to teach."

"I'd rather not."

"How come?"

"As your teacher, it is my duty to see this lesson through." The dark gaze was unrelenting. "If I cannot succeed in my mission, then I will have failed."

"No way!" Naruto protested despite himself. "If I can't draw or even write good, that's not your fault! It's just that I'm no good."

"Nevertheless, such is the state of the world."

"Oh yeah? So what's stopping you from just leaving right now? No one's watching! No one cares!"

Sai watched him in silence.

"I guess- I care, a little," admitted the blond boy.

"As do I."

"Why? It's not your problem! You shouldn't care. I'll bet you never wanted to learn to yo-yo in the first place. I'll bet you just-"

"Tell me," interrupted the dark-haired boy with a gaze like ice, "Have you never felt a compulsion to hold yourself accountable that your actions are consistent with your spoken indications of your intended actions?"

"Huh?"

"I believe some people call it 'holding true to your word'."

Naruto shifted uneasily. "Sure, I've heard of that. So what?"

"Just this, Naruto Uzumaki. I have promised to teach you to draw. Having thus given my word, I am bound to do my utmost to achieve that end."

Naruto thought he knew what was coming.

Dark eyes flashed.

"Giving up five minutes into the first lesson is not nearly enough. Let us begin again."

In general (and with the exception of a slightly wounded pride), Uzumaki emerged from the event unscathed.

I don't know what happened with the other agents you set to follow 'Sai' back to home, or headquarters, or wherever that kid appeared from, but I lost track of him not half a minute after he took off. As per my orders, I followed Uzumaki back to his place of residence, where he promptly fell asleep. I also took the liberty of closing and locking his front door behind him, as he completely forgot this precaution. I do not think he will notice in the morning. While standing guard, I composed the majority of this report.

My personal opinion on the situation is that Sai is a sneaky little mouse that's running errands for a big bad wolf out there somewhere. He is absolutely trained, in stealth at the very least, and likely in other covert techniques. I think that Sai is probably not an assassin, but that's still a bit iffy. He's absolutely got a higher agenda, and I think he should be removed from Uzumaki's life now. As in NOW.

Oh, and another thing.

Get someone else to do it.

END MISSION REPORT

"What's up, Sai?" Shin asked, leaning on the door frame casually.

"I am writing a mission report," said Sai.

Shin rolled his eyes. "I can see that, twerp," he said with a snort. "That's not what I asked, and you know it."

"I'm afraid you will have to clarify your-" Sai paused. "-clarify your inquiry."

"There!" His older brother exclaimed, standing upright with a triumphant air. "You just did it again. You can't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about! You just did it. You're acting way off from your usual self." Shin put on an awkward air that was evidently intended to represent his younger brother. "Clarify your- clarify your inquiry~!"

"I do not know to what you are referring," Sai said blandly.

But he did. He knew exactly which behavioral patterns his Onii-san was commenting on, and he knew that such anomalous behavior would be perceived by the other trainee members of their squad, and that they would undoubtedly report such a discrepancy to the Unit Leader. He'd have more demerits in one day than he'd received in the entire year prior. It would be a permanent stain on his perfect record, and if he wanted to remedy it, he should report in to the behavioral therapy clinic for further conditioning.

He didn't want to.

He knew he should, he knew it was expected of him, but he didn't want to.

His mind said yes, his heart said no, and his legs flatly refused to move another inch.

So he sat at his writing table, composing a cold, clinical report on the day's events. Obediently reporting every last detail, from Uzumaki's height and weight to his speaking patterns to his diet, and even hazarding a guess as to his favorite shoe store. Everything was perfect. The perfect stealth, the perfect subterfuge, the perfect reconnaissance, and the perfect betrayal.

Because Sai would never fall short of perfection.

And all the while, he smiled a small, warm smile.

He clung to the heat and light of the afternoon's memories. The brilliance of the smile, the dejected expression that brightened at the slightest hint of praise, and the lit eyes that radiated happiness. It was something warm streaming out of a tiny spot inside of him, and he reveled in it, like a child in the winter's first snowfall. It was hot, burning, searing- but it was something strong. Something beautiful.

In his closed fist, he held a dented disc of cheap aluminum, tied with a thin white string that was looped tightly about its core. A yo-yo.

And he wrote.