Aunt Sakura was inside the wagon with Sensei. They'd been inside all day, were doubtless keeping their senses peeled but otherwise busy. There were no other adults—none could be spared, not when the war was going as poorly as it was and when this diplomatic mission seemed already doomed to fail.

So it was just Ibiki and his teammates who walked together.

And, of course, the fireflies.

He had several with him at the moment, including two female blue ghost fireflies who had pressed themselves into the helix of his and his aunt's right ears. He called the one he spoke to Blue, and his aunt's Ghost. While they could glow a whitish-blue color, they mostly just communicated between Ibiki and his aunt through chakra signals so minuscule that even his aunt couldn't sense them.

Besides Blue and Ghost, he also had a Photuris versicolor firefly who had agreed to the name Clear, after the almost see-through section behind her head. She was working with him to create a signaling system, as she had one of the most variable light patterns of anyone in her world.

Finally, Hotaru was the only male firefly who had joined Ibiki. He had not yet explained his presence, but it had been explicitly required by the contract, and Ibiki knew for a fact that Hotaru had been contacted the second the fireflies learned Ibiki's nation was currently at war.

Ibiki wanted to ask more, wanted answers.

But his Sensei, family, just about everyone—they reminded him that the fireflies had already given enough.

Let them keep their secrets.

Anyway, all four of the fireflies were currently resting, the sun high and strong overhead, and so—

It was hot.

Autumn temperatures hadn't yet arrived, and they hadn't yet progressed far enough north for that to have an effect—likely wouldn't until they were at Ishi-ka Bay.

So, it was hot.

Ibiki pulled the fabric of his shirt away from his back again, glancing to the side at Sadao. They'd been on the road for only two days, and it was already obvious—Sadao's hatred of Ibiki extended to Ibiki's aunt.

It had become very, very noticeable.

Even now, as they patrolled either side of the wagon, Sadao made sure to never throw a glance Ibiki's way, never engage him in conversation.

Between them sat Misaki, her hands tight as they gripped the horses' reins.

She'd not seen a horse before, not until the three of them had been put in charge of leading them. Ibiki had volunteered for the first shift—the morning of day one. He'd been on the most diplomatic missions, after all, and had plenty of experience around horses. Misaki had ended up with the second when Sadao didn't speak up, and Sadao had taken the third.

Now it was the morning of day three—Misaki's turn once more.

And she was still gripping the reins tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

"I don't want to mess this up!" she'd whispered almost angrily when Ibiki had asked her if she was okay before her first shift. He'd glanced at the horses—two Dosankos who could be spared from other duties because their old age had left them slow but reliable. Also, the road they were taking wouldn't be changing for her entire shift; they were just to head north. He'd glanced back at her.

She hadn't talked to him for the rest of the day.

Now, day three, and the silence was starting to get to Ibiki. Even though Misaki was willing to talk to him, now, Sadao's… behavior… meant she usually didn't bother. Just sat in the uncomfortable silence alongside Ibiki.

How long could Sadao's grudge over nothing last?

He cleared his throat.

Misaki glanced toward him.

Sadao did not.

"How is your medic-nin training going?"

"Oh! It's going well. Um, I haven't yet gotten the fish to stay alive, but… I'm getting there."

"That's good."

The conversation ground to a halt.

Sadao's presence loomed over them both.

The sun beat down.

Ibiki hoped they would stop by a river or stream tonight—he needed to get all the sweat out of his clothes and off his body.

Finally, Sensei's head popped out of the wagon.

"Midday, time to give the horses a rest. Misaki, that's your responsibility. Ibiki, Sadao—refill Misaki's water as well as your own. And Sakura's and mine, too." Her head dipped in, back out. She dropped two flasks next to Misaki. "Get going as soon as the horses seem ready." She disappeared again.

Ibiki glanced at Sadao. Sadao started forward, grabbed all three other flasks, and disappeared into the woods.

Ibiki went the opposite direction. It wasn't like Sadao knew where any water was—they hadn't seen any in some time—so they might as well split up, get a break from each other.

Man, he was hungry.

"What do you eat, anyway?"

Blue wiggled a bit as she woke up—it felt weird against the cartilage of his ear—and cooed.

"Oh, mostly chakra, actually. That's the main benefit of summoners—this world has so much more chakra than ours that it is quite overwhelming. So we four current summons are actually already quite powerful, able to deal with the sheer quantity. We will store the chakra and regurgitate it as we unsummon ourselves.

"We also eat each other, of course, particularly the weak or old—"

(Here Ibiki choked)

"—and we are currently invading the snails. They are absolutely delicious."

Okay, maybe he hadn't wanted to know.

(He'd just focus on the chakra stuff. That he could deal with.)

(They were cannibals?)

After five minutes, Ibiki gave up. His side of the forest did not have water. He came back to Sadao lounging next to Misaki, each flask already filled.

He hadn't bothered to tell Ibiki.

Great.

(Not the time.)

(Never the time.)

(Was he just supposed to deal with this forever?)

"Oh, did you not get water, Ibiki?" Misaki asked.

He grinned at her, trying to keep the frustration off his face—he knew it would just make Sadao happy. "Didn't find any water. Sadao, mind pointing the way?"

"What, you don't know how to find water?" Sadao said.

They'd been to school together, learned the same things.

Sadao had no idea how to douse water either—he'd just gotten lucky.

"Nope. Mind pointing the way?"

Sadao grunted. Not an answer. Misaki—behind Sadao's head—pointed the way Sadao had presumably come back from.

By day five, Ibiki's anger was nearly boiling over. When they were in Konoha, Ibiki only had to deal with Sadao for short periods of time, enough to complete a couple missions or get through some training. Now there was no escape.

Aunt Sakura—despite how little time she had to interact with him, what with her and Sensei's preparations—had even noticed, had begun popping outside 'for air' more often.

Ibiki was still trying to take the high road—this was an important mission, so genin squabbles wouldn't be taken well—when his aunt asked Sadao to make some tea, and Sadao spat on the ground.

Ibiki could take a lot, but he wouldn't put up with that.

.

Misaki didn't know what to do. She'd been put in charge of watching both her teammates—encased in Sensei's earth jutsu as they were—while she and Head Yamanaka decided what to do.

She wrung her hands, looking between the two.

This wasn't good.

This really wasn't good.

They were arriving at the port within the day and—

This wasn't good.

She just didn't understand Sadao's problem.

He'd never been… chatty, as a classmate, and sometimes he was kind-of an asshole to their less capable classmates, but he'd never been mean to her, and as far as she knew, he'd never had any interactions with Ibiki at all.

So why he hated him—

And why he hated—visibly—Head Yamanaka—

And then suddenly Sensei and Head Yamanaka were in front of them again.

"Is Uchiha Taro your father?"

"Yes."

"Ah."

What? Misaki thought.

"What?" Ibiki asked.

"I was on a mission with Uchiha Taro, and his brother Uchiha Sadao," Head Yamanaka explained. "Unfortunately, it did not go well and everyone on the mission but Taro and I died."

"You were hospitalized," Sadao said. "You are a failure."

And then suddenly Sensei had Sadao by the collar and was dragging him deep, deep in the woods.

Head Yamanaka winced. "Tsunade's history is quite public. He should have been more careful."

"Did you kill his brother or something?"

"No. But Taro—I think he wanted someone to blame, someone closer than the enemy… I suppose he chose me." Head Yamanaka said. She lifted Ibiki from the dirt prison as it crumbled around him—Sensei apparently having gone out of reach to passively maintain it. "Grief… is very hard to cope with. Especially for the Uchiha—their kekkei genkai, I think, makes strong emotions much more difficult to manage."

"So you're okay with Sadao's dad scapegoating you?" Ibiki snapped.

"Okay is… a strong word," Head Yamanaka said. "Anyway, he definitely shouldn't have been passing along his unhealthy coping techniques to his son, or allowing his son to target you."

Misaki wished very much that they were back in Konoha, and she could just bury herself in her textbooks.

She swallowed instead. "Should I let loose the horses?"

"That's a good idea," Head Yamanaka said. "Tsunade and Sadao may not be back for a while."

The statement was prophetic—it was nearly dark before the rest of Misaki's team returned.

It was a good thing they hadn't been going at top speed and could pick up the pace tomorrow.

In the meantime, Head Yamanaka had taught the two of them the very basics of diplomacy that they would need to know for the mission. Sadao at least probably already knew—he was relatively highly placed in his clan, and would have been taught how to interact during visits to the Capital.

Misaki had a sneaking suspicion that Ibiki already knew, too, but she could get the impulse to just take a few hours and slip into the normal—Misaki certainly felt more comfortable slipping into a student role, instead of trying to do a job.

Or deal with horses.

Those were still terrifying.

Sadao looked—

His face was bright red, tear tracks were highly visible, and his clothing was still covered in the dirt from the earlier jutsu.

He started with a very formal, deep bow to Head Yamanaka.

"I deeply apologize. My actions were inexcusable. Please forgive me."

Head Yamanaka bowed back, much more shallowly. "I hope our future relationship is much more peacable."

Again, Sadao bowed, this time to Ibiki—notably, the bow was barely shallower than it was for Head Yamanaka—a combination, Misaki supposed, of Head Yamanaka's far greater position and the much longer list of grievances between Ibiki and Sadao.

Ibiki grit his teeth, glanced at Head Yamanaka, and bowed back. "Yeah. Let's… start again."

Misaki nearly deflated in relief.

If the boys could actually get along—or get along more than they currently did, anyway—then she might be able to survive this mission without imploding in a fit of anxiety and discomfort.

And then Sadao bowed to her. "I deeply apologize. My actions were inexcusable. Please forgive me."

He hadn't been mean to her.

Ever.

Even when he was kind of an ass in school—he'd always thought her capable enough that she wasn't a target.

Of course, she'd had to deal with his… animosity… since they'd been teammates, nearly a full season now.

So…

"I accept your apology. Let us begin anew."

"Alright, now that that's done—who's up for rabbit stew?" Head Yamanaka said.

Misaki jumped—she'd been in charge of that, and she'd gotten distracted. "The stew!"