Haru frowned as he grabbed the broom to sweep the floor—it was his chore for the week, and an easy one at that, but he had things on his mind.
He'd heard some of the caretakers talking the day before: despite the War, the plan to open up 'sponsorships'—allow clans to take in orphaned kids with potential—was officially still on.
It wasn't that he cared for himself, of course. He'd been diagnosed with asthma real early, well before his parents had died, and asthma was one of those permanent things, something which meant you'd never be able to vie to get the income and bonuses shinobi were afforded.
He was fine with that.
Or, at least, he'd come to terms with it.
He'd still manage to do well enough, would get a job and probably even have a family of his own one day, but—
Shinobi made money.
Even ninja who used to be orphans—nicknamed 'fodder' or 'meat shields' by the bullies, by those that didn't see themselves as bullies but also didn't notice how many ears listened—even those ninja usually survived.
Made money.
Had amazing health care.
Had discounts, respect, a pension.
And, well, Haru had a sister.
Two floors down, on the right side of the central staircase—where girls her age slept.
And she didn't have asthma.
Didn't have anything wrong with her at all, actually.
If she could get one of those sponsorships, when they officially became available instead of being a once-every-half-dozen-years thing, if she could get one of those sponsorships—
He had to help her get one of those sponsorships.
But how?
Haru bit his lip in thought, looking down at the front entrance below.
He could see some of the younger kids playing, running back and forth—probably a game of tag?
He couldn't see his sister.
He wondered if she was doing chores, too.
The room was swept.
Haru put away the cleaning supplies.
Perhaps—
Perhaps he could visit a clan?
Ask on his sister's behalf?
At the very least get suggestions on how to make her more… suitable.
But which clan?
Not the Hyuuga. They were… weird, insular.
Not the Uchiha. He'd seen how they treated kids like him, like his sister.
Not the Aburame. Creepy.
The Inuzuka had the weird dog thing, so they were out too.
The Nara—his sister wasn't smart enough, as much as he loved her.
Yamanaka, Nara, both relied on their bloodlines too much; Haru couldn't see how the sponsorships would work with them.
The Mitokado…
They were a possibility.
The Sarutobi, too, though it felt weird approaching a Hokage's family.
Perhaps the Nohara clan? They were only a block or two away, and seemed nice.
A lot of them worked as firemen, though, and Haru hated the idea of exposing his sister to bad lungs; he knew personally how much that could hurt.
Over and over his mind turned, proposing, dismissing, and setting aside each clan in turn.
He left the orphanage compound, setting out in the direction of the compound.
Regardless of which clan was best, there was no reason not to start as soon as possible—his sister mattered too much to delay.
.
Nara Yoshino grumbled to herself as she strode down the street.
Okay, fine, she did know that civilians have different sensitivities, but the mission had gone on forever and it was so much more bloody than their usual ones and Yuito's (civilian) home was the closest and they'd known each other for two years now, since Yuito'd been assigned to their teams, and there were three people on the bed anyway—
Anyway.
The point was, Yuito's mother treated them sleeping in the same bed as if they were having an orgy.
A complete overreaction, if you asked her.
She was fourteen!
Katsuo and Yuito were both barely thirteen!
It wasn't as if—
And even if they were of age, they were teammates.
It was normal.
Or, it was normal for the Nara and the Inuzuka.
And every other shinobi, actually.
What did the woman think they did while they were camping?
Yoshino, fully intent on festering until at least she made it back home, almost tripped over herself.
"Shisui?!"
Shisui looked up from his work, lighting up when he saw her. "Yoshino!"
"By the kami, you've grown!" After a second's hesitation, she made her way to his side, snatching him up into a tight hug.
Shisui giggled, hugging her back. "I'm four now!"
"Amazing!"
"Right?! I can even reach counters by myself now!"
"That's awesome, Shisui!"
"Hey! Hey! Look at my painting!"
Yoshino turned, looking down at the massive canvas spread across a good chunk of the urban training ground.
A fantastical scene of the forest appeared before her, Nara deer and raccoon dogs and bears and cranes and so many animals all looking in obvious affection at the tiny cat asleep in the center of the canvas.
"Did you paint this?" Yoshino gasped, setting Shisui down as she did.
"Yep-yep-yep!" Shisui said. "I've been drawing and painting lots, and it's finally starting to look more like how I want it to."
"This is—your painting is gorgeous, Shisui."
"Thank you!" Shisui hummed happily to himself, picking up his paintbrush to add some more dimension to a tanuki ear.
"You've been busy with the arts, then?" Yoshino asked.
"Yeah. I have a tutor three times a week, and I go to some of the electives at the Academy, but otherwise I get to just try things out. It's… really fun."
"I'm glad."
"How about you and Katsuo? Are you doing okay since I left the team?"
"Oh, yes. We, um, we got a new teammate—Yuito. We're doing a lot of intel missions, now. Sensei says he's going to recommend us for promotion at the end of the year—just wants us to delay until then because, you know, of the war."
Shisui nodded solemnly. "Because if you're promoted right now you'll keep being sent to missions instead of working in an office like you want."
Well, the kid certainly was as smart as he had been two years ago. "Yeah, that."
"I'm glad you're both doing good."
"I'm sorry we haven't visited."
"It's okay. Everything got really messy for a while."
"Is your Mom around?"
"Oh, no. She's at work—my cousin's watching me—he's over on that bench, reading."
Yoshino turned, nodded at the Uchiha who nodded back.
It was…
Shockingly good, actually.
Seeing—
Seeing Shisui just being a kid.
Without anyone expecting him to be a shinobi, or look after himself, or—anything.
"I have to get going, but I'll visit soon, okay? I'll get Katsuo to visit, too."
Shisui grinned up at her. "Sounds good!"
"Sounds good to me too."
.
Yasuo grimaced, spitting again in the sink.
The taste of acid stuck in the back of his throat, but that was normal after he'd been… sick.
He knew he should tell his teammates.
It was the healthy thing to do.
And anyway, all of them had trouble fighting the Kiri-nin—so many so young, so many not even old enough to wipe themselves—
Or at least that's what it seemed like.
They weren't exactly asking birthdays on the battlefield.
But they were so young, and there were so many—
You had to resort to lethal force, sometimes.
And that didn't even take into account the explosive methods used for the ships.
And every time he had to go out, to fight—
All he could picture was—
And Aiko was writing him, giving him updates on how her pregnancy was going, how their child was doing—
He knew why Kiri used young kids.
There was the reluctance of opponents, of course.
Plus kids were resilient, could bounce back quicker than adults, usually.
And Kiri never seemed to lack in manpower either, only training and resources.
So—
Kids.
Little, teeny-tiny, barely old enough for the Academy kids.
He tried to remember that the Hokage had forbidden those younger than ten from graduating, those younger than thirteen from becoming chuunin, but—
Then he'd go out.
Face children.
Try to capture as many as possible, except they'd all been trained in suicide tactics and there were so many of them and—
Yasuo felt nauseous okay.
There was a knock on the bathroom door.
"Yasuo? You okay?"
He really needed to talk to his team.
But the mere idea of it, of speaking it aloud, was revolting.
He'd suffer.
He'd persevere.
And hopefully, someday soon, he'd be able to hold his child in his arms.