Sorry I'm late! I got through a bit of a rough patch with motivation for this translation. Please, if you like this story, don't hesitate to drop reviews. You have no idea how amazing they are at motivating me to push through such patches. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Hitomi left her bed in a jump, her hand already finding the tantō that was never too far from her. With a thread of chakra – thank fuck for puppeteers – she made the emergency bag under her bedside table jump to her right hand. She had prepared it for times when she wouldn't have time for anything, not even dressing up. It contained throwing weapons, a medikit, supplies for seals as well as several Akimichi rations. It was supposed to be enough to face most situations – in truth, it barely was.

A spark of chakra and she flew through the window, the lilac curtains billowing behind her. Her naked feet pitter-pattered on the cold tiles of the roofs she was running over, so fast she barely touched one before jumping to another. Her nightdress was a hindrance, so she tore a length of the skirt away and let it fall on the street mid-jump, her features a hard mask of drive and focus.

Somewhere along the border of the Nara lands, she sliced her thumb open and summoned her cats, not even stopping. They had a moment of stupor before catching up to her; one look at her face and they understood there was no time for greeting. She didn't say a word, her stomach twisted by anguish and urgency. Hoshihi took his rightful place by her side, Hai perched on his ginger head as she couldn't follow the mad pace of her elders, so much bigger and more powerful. The other four felines deployed behind her as many shadows, their paws barely producing any sound on the roofs.

The smell came from the top of a little tailor shop Hitomi passed by every week to go to her therapist. She opened herself to the sensations of her meridians, winced in pain when she received too much too quick then relaxed. No enemy around. Only one person, one still body on that roof – Gekko Hayate, the referee who had overseen the preliminaries.

A strangled noise came out of her throat when she walked to him and saw the state he was in. His torso was cut open practically from the neck to the hip; she felt bile rise in her chest as she noticed the dark and wet shapes of his organs from where she stood, on the next roof. She hadn't forgotten Hayate. She couldn't forget anything. She had just… She had just found herself lost again on the messy timeline she was clinging to. She might have been able to stop that tragedy, if only she had… she didn't know. Stood watch? But what could she do against assailants capable of murdering a former ANBU agent? Her eyes stopped on the dark little tattoo on his right upper arm, only visible because his sleeve had been torn away, and she felt sick again.

"Hitomi, look!" Hoshihi explained.

Surprised by the anxiety in his voice, she followed his amber eyes to Hayate's mouth. She didn't understand right away what he had seen under all the blood on his face, and then she saw it too – the minuscule bubble forming in the scarlet liquid. Her breath hitched in her chest, her heart missed a beat, and then she knew what she had to do, as surely as she knew her own chakra.

She sprang into action, opened her emergency bag and quickly thanked the Hermit for the reflex of taking it with her. Her hands stopped shaking by the time she grabbed her brush. She didn't need ink nor parchment. Behind her, she heard Kurokumo run away, probably to go get someone – anyone who could possibly fix this mess. In silence, she got to work and started tracing the seal around Hayate's body.

It was incredibly delicate work, barely within her skills in terms of difficulty. Despite Ensui's recommendations, she had decided that, this time, it was best to work on closing Hayate's wounds: there was more than enough blood around and on him to draw that seal and maybe three more. The Mystical Palm in her right hand would have made any medic worth their title pale in horror, but she knew it could make a difference, even though there were better techniques for such a terrible injury.

Somewhere in the process, her left arm twisted in a painful position to continue drawing without taking her right hand off Hayate's insides, an ANBU duet stopped a few steps next to her. She didn't look up, didn't say anything, her brow damp with sweat and her muscles spasming, but she noticed the white masks with animal faces painted on them in the periphery of their vision. They could have come closer, could have interrupted her, but they seemed to understand that Hayate would die if they did. She had to finish, no matter what.

It took her ten more minutes that Kurokumo used to find medics this time – Hitomi guessed the two ANBU operatives weren't, but they had been the first capable people he had found – to finish the seal. When she straightened up, both her arms were stained in blood up to the elbows, but the liquid had stopped running out of Hayate's body, frozen in place by the seal like a macabre piece of art. It wasn't Hitomi's cleanest work, far from it, but it worked. She couldn't ask for anything more.

She stood up slowly, sore from head to toe, and stumbled out of the circle, barely caught by one of the ANBU before she could fall. He looked at her face, noticed the strained features, the extremely contracted pupils. He cupped her face in his huge hands and turned her face to the moon, then suddenly remembered where he had seen these red eyes, this black wavy hair. "Boar, go fetch Hound. He should be at home right now. Tell him his kid needs him and bring him here asap."

Hitomi stared at the mask above her without a word. She recognised the fox painted in red ink on the white porcelain. She had never seen the particular ANBU agent, but she felt the seal busing on his right upper arm. With a pained shudder, she closed her eyes and focused until the chakra around her stopped burning against her skin.

"Open your eyes, girl. Look at me."

She obeyed his deep, smooth voice. It sounded a bit like Shikaku's, but not quite the same. The eyes she saw through the holes in his mask were such a shocking shade of blue they had to be contacts. The long, dark blue hair he wore in a braid was probably a wig. She knew it was protocol to hide anything peculiar about an ANBU operative.

And why were they even there? Why had Kurokumo found them first? Her heart aching, she remembered they were on guard duty in the village day and night. That duty had once belonged to the Uchiha Clan, but the ANBU had taken over since the massacre. Most of them hated it and saw it as a waste of their talent. They were right, of course. Two years earlier, the Hokage had accepted a bill stating that the General Forces would be formed in that duty, but ANBU still had to be amongst them just in case. If a Genin had been in Hayate's shoes against his attacker, they would have been killed in a blink.

Somewhere deep inside, beyond her ringing ears and far away from her thundering heart, she could help but feel absurd relief: Hayate's wounds hadn't been inflicted by a Wind Sword, only by a normal katana. She knew because the Wind Sword technique was so perfectly sharp it cut through all living matter, without any resistance. If Baki had been the attacker like in the canon, the referee would have been cut in half.

Kakashi arrived on scene in a jump. His only eye glanced over the body, the seal, the ninja cats, his comrades – ex comrades? – from the ANBU. Without a word, Fox gently pushed Hitomi towards him and she stumbled in his direction, immediately caught by his hands she knew far better, his hands which protected her, trained her. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of dogs and sleep on his clothes. He was in his pyjamas, with an overly cute shuriken pattern, but his mask was still hiding his face and a black eyepatch covered his Sharingan.

"How do you find yourself in such improbable situations time and time again, Hitomi-chan?" he asked softly.

She answered with a high-pitched, quivering groan that seemed to worry the Copy Nin. His hands gripped her shoulders tighter as he drew her closer and wrapped his arms around her for a hug. She could tell he wasn't used to doing it, from his clumsy grip and the stiffness in his shoulders, but she accepted the comfort all the same, pressing her head against his chest. His heart was quiet. So quiet.

The medics arrived then, Kurokumo in the lead. They walked through the circle of ninja cats like they did that every day, then through the red lines of the seal that was starting to dry. Only then did they get to work, kneeling on the cold, hard tiles. Maybe they knew that they had no other choice, that Hitomi's seal was barely stable, that it would break if they attempted to move it. This wasn't enough, she had to get better.

"You may have saved a life, Hitomi-chan. You shouldn't feel guilty."

Hitomi knew her sensei didn't have the power to read minds, and yet she froze in surprise for a moment before realising he was right: guilt, indeed, was rising inside her, cold and merciless. She had known this would happen, she should have prevented it. A sort of spasm shook her body in the man's arms, like a parody of sob. She didn't answer. She didn't know what to say anyway. She had succeeded and yet failed.

"No use staying here. I'm taking you home."

She didn't answer that either, only able to stare at the man as he changed his grip on her to lift her from the ground princess-style. He probably didn't trust her to run or even walk, and he was right. She was shaking like she was in the middle of a snowstorm, despite how mild the night was. Her teeth chattered, her breathing turned shallow and irregular, lighting a fire in her chest. She was cold, then warm, then cold again, sounds muffled and peripheral vision blurry. A panic attack.

Kakashi seemed to get it immediately. He continued running, his feet perfectly silent, but, without letting go of her, he yanked on the collar of her nightdress to give her more room to breathe. The only sounds coming out of her were choked little hiccups; she didn't cry. She felt like she was unable to, and at the same time like it would free her from the weight pressing hard on her chest. Tears had always had that effect on her.

When he jumped through her window, careful of her head and legs, she was terribly still and withdrawn. In her room, he barely stopped for a moment, forcing her stiff fingers to let go of her stuff – the tantō first, then the bag covered in blood. Behind her, barely louder than a whisper, the ninja cats entered the room one by one. Hoshihi took his usual place on the bed, Hai still on his shoulders, Haīro and Kurokumo settled at each side of the window as if to stand watch, and Hokori and Sunaarashi did the same with the door. Kakashi acknowledged them with a nod before taking their summoner out of the room – she didn't react.

She didn't react either when he walked down the corridor. He seemed to know the place well, since he didn't stop until he reached the bathroom, stepping across Sasuke's and Naruto's rooms without hesitation. He had already come there. When? The question passed well over her head. Her breathing had calmed but she felt so numb, so cold and aching. She wanted to close her eyes but even that required too much energy, so she kept them open.

Without a word, her teacher closed the toilet seat and settled her there, making sure she wouldn't fall before he totally let go of her. His hands finally free, he bent over the bathroom and turned on the tap. He made the current shift to the showerhead, tested the temperature on his forearm and adjusted it until he was satisfied. During all that time, Hitomi watched him silently. Her body wasn't hers anymore. It was too small, too weak, to wrap around her anguish and guilt.

His hands, gentle and careful, pulled her between his body and the bathtub. He took her right arm first, the one that had attempted to keep Hayate alive long enough for her left to draw the seal. He placed it under the warm waterflow; pink rivulets immediately started to drip from the cold limb, washing down the drain. After a few minutes, Hitomi's pale skin tone started to reappear. He made sure not to forget anything, from the crease of her elbow to her fragile wrist.

He worked on her hand after that. When he let go of her arm to grab a little brush Kurenai had put away in the cupboard under the sink, she stayed still, the limb suspended in the air. A brief tremor went through her shoulders from time to time, but her eyes were dull, almost blurry. Kakashi was worried. He had never seen her that withdrawn. Taking her hand between his, he got to work, washing the blood under her nails as he had done numerous times for his own.

The other arm, in comparison, was easier and faster to clean up. There was less blood on that side, after all. When it was done, Kakashi shut the tap and took the first towel he could find to dry her arms, his movements as gentle and delicate as he could, like he was taking care of a wounded bird rather than a traumatised student. Was it even the right word for it? It seemed too strong, too intense for the dull ache taking over her mind, sometimes shaken by shattering anguish. As for Kakashi, he wasn't fooled by how quiet she was. He recognised the signs from having lived through them himself, and he heard each time she choked on the air she breathed.

Once her arms were dry, he left for a moment and came back with another pair of pyjamas of hers, an outfit composed of a white t-shirt and mint green shorts. He was careful to keep his eyes strictly on her face as he undressed her. He knew she would remember this, and he didn't want her to think he would even watch a kid that way. He tossed her white-turned-red nightdress away and, when she was naked, he humidified a washing mitt and cleaned her skin as well as he could before helping her in the new clothes.

Not once did she move or react.

Then, still silent, he managed to hide the bloody nightdress out of her sight, lifted her from the ground again and took her back to her room, his grip almost too hard around her cold, inert body. If he hadn't heard her breathe, he would have thought she was dying. The idea hurt much more than he could even conceive. The cats welcomed his return with subtle movements – the twitch of an ear or whisker, sometimes a nod. Kakashi knew very well that his student's summons didn't like him much, with his dog smell and many eccentricities, but Hoshihi shifted away to allow him to open the covers and put his student to bed. The cat was soon cuddling against his summoner, his heavy, ginger head on her shoulder and one paw across her midsection like a protective – and possessive – barrier.

Once his first duty was accomplished, the man left the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and breathed in deeply. His nose assured him that Kurenai was home, instead of at the hospital or over at Asuma's place. He thanked the gods that he didn't have to look for her. He found the young mother's bedroom easily, entered as silently as he could, and yet he had to dive to dodge a kunai that ended its course deeply embedded in the door. A thin smile on his lips, he freed the weapon from the wood and noted the many impacts, similar to the ones on Hitomi's door. One more thing that the mother and daughter had in common.

"Hitomi left during the night."

Her child's name immediately got Kurenai's attention. Her acute eyes searched Kakashi's. In a whisper of fabric, he went to sit at the edge of the bed. They were close, the both of them, close enough that he couldn't totally hide the anxiety and fright roaring in his mind from her attention.

"Out?" she asked after a moment.

"Hm… I don't know why she left initially, but she stumbled upon a wounded shinobi, Gekko Hayate. The referee, remember? I didn't see much of his body, but it looked like he had fought and been left to die."

His voice a whisper in the darkness of the room, he continued reporting about the situation, describing the seal Hitomi had drawn around the body – he didn't need to see her do it to recognise her work. He explained that ANBU Boar had found him at home and brought him to the scene, all the while telling him about the situation. He then described how he had taken his student home, cleaned the blood away half in hope that it would help her feel better, and half in fear that there would be injuries on her body as well.

"… and I put her in bed. I don't think she's gonna sleep tonight."

"Thanks for taking care of her. I shouldn't have sent Ensui home tonight… He could have helped her too."

"No need to thank me. She's my student, your daughter."

"About that, Sasuke…"

"He's good. I'm still training him outside the village. I had a quick problem to settle tonight, but he decided he wanted to stay in the former border post we're using. I'll get back to him now and explain the situation. He misses you all dearly, but I make sure he's too busy to think much about anything other than the tournament."

Yes, the young Uchiha even missed Naruto, as strange as it sounded. They were closer than the people who knew them from Academy but weren't part of the Fellowship could ever think. The bickering, the constant challenge, and even the food habits, Sasuke missed everything related to the blonde boy, just as he missed everything about his adopted sister and mother.

"Do you think he could win?"

"Of course!" Kakashi said with fake outrage. "Don't underestimate how good my training regimen is. He can do it. After all, it's not like Gaara is a raving lunatic, right? He controls his demon and he doesn't want to hurt Hitomi's brothers."

"He's a good boy. It's obvious how much he loves her. He couldn't even stand before her if he harmed Sasuke."

The two ninjas exchanged a knowing smile, but they couldn't quite hide their worry for the girl. Fortunately, she wasn't amongst the competitors for the tournament. She had time to heal, to lock the memory far below the surface of her mind, to find back her strength and stability. And if Hayate survived, part or all of her guilt would disappear, which would only allow her to get back on her feet quicker. Just for that, Kurenai hoped the man she barely knew would live. With a sigh, she left her bed and stretched as Kakashi politely looked away.

"Well, since you woke me up, I'm gonna warn Ensui and Yoshino. They'll probably want to adapt their training regimen for her in consequence or even cancel it for a few days.

Kakashi snorted. "Do you believe that?"

"… No, you're right, they're gonna think she needs everything but a break. Time for you to get out of my room now. I won't go to my sister-in-law's or to Ensui's house in a nightdress."

A faint smile on his lips, Kakashi did as he was told. Suddenly, he remembered why he loved working with Kurenai: nothing could knock her down. She always faced adversity with serenity, even when the enemy was as terrible and cruel as a trauma in a teenager's mind. His duty accomplished, he took the time to sigh heavily then walked to the door. He didn't want to offend Kurenai by leaving through a window when it wasn't necessary.

In her bed, Hitomi still hadn't moved, her big red eyes staring at the ceiling. She had heard her sensei's and mother's voices, without catching the words themselves. She could have, with a simple spark of chakra in her ears, but it seemed so futile, so vain. With a little anguished whimper, she finally moved, curling up against Hoshihi's flank. The cats had stayed by her side, Kurokumo joining his friend and the little apprentice on the bed after a while. They barely fit there, but Hitomi didn't care.

The cats' quiet purrs didn't calm her as they usually did. Her thoughts were running at a painful pace in her mind, guilt and anxiety were crushing and choking her, and nothing could help. The comfort she drew from the smell on their pelts and from their body heat was distant, almost meaningless. With a quivering sigh, she pressed her face against Hoshihi's shoulder and prayed for sleep, in vain.

Each time she closed her eyes, her hands felt the wet and warm shapes of Hayate's organs again, the metallic stench of death in waiting came back to her nose, the vision of his broken body painted itself on her eyelids. She wanted to scream, to break something, to unleash all the violence blooming in her chest like a delicate flower, and yet she didn't feel strong enough to continue breathing.

She could help any of it, so she waited.

This too would pass.