39 Konoha.
39 years since the founding of the first of the Great Nations' Hidden Villages.
39 years of war, and peace, and stability, and innovation, and deprivation, and prosperity.
The Second Great Shinobi War, no doubt the second of many, was over—against the advice of Konoha's War General, who wanted to push their advantage, send a message.
Life in the Fire's Hidden Village of the Leaf had, more or less, fallen back to a sort of routine.
The city which had shrunken so much, both in terms of people and resources, was once more working to become bloated, rebuilding structures and reforging connections every day.
Telegraph lines now lanced across the sky, providing near-instantaneous communication not only within the walls but within Fire as a whole; communication which was—so far—unmatched by any other civilization.
The next generation of clan heirs—the majority teenagers—could be found around the city, lending a helping hand when possible. There was a group of them now, Ino-Shika-Cho alongside Uchiha, and Aburame, that spent their days together talking in quiet tones. Juxtaposed to them were the other clans, the majority with heirs significantly younger and older: after the Akimichi-Mitokado brawl it was the Hyuuga, Utatane, and Shimura clans who found themselves most allied with the latter.
The Sarutobi clan, now only fifteen strong and most of them elderly, stayed out of it.
The Inuzuka clan, already somewhat disinterested in clan politicking due to their very different culture, found themselves joining whichever side of the conflict seemed to be doing the most interesting things at any given moment.
Those who were not in clans—ninja, merchants, and laypeople alike—tried to ignore the results of the brawl, the hostility that had precipitated it and that remained long after the exchange of fists and chakra.
Still, it was… unusual, to see so many teenage clan heirs in one place at one time; usually, after the Academy, they would separate, be far too busy with learning their own clan and training in their wartime skills to spend much time in conversation until they became clan heads themselves, and even then it tended, on average, to be more a détente than anything else.
Still, 39 Konoha was not a return to normalcy; it was a recreation, an improvement, or at least a modification of the word.
For Yamanaka Sakura, fifteen-year-old special jounin, the new normal involved a new department: Survivability and Lethality Analysis.
For six months.
"But why six months?" Aiko asked. She and Sakura were leaning against one of the Utatane roofs, nibbling at the various sweets the former's mother had provided and watching the children below play with the first, and probably last, snow of the year.
"The Head thought, given that I'd already been in four of the five, that it might actually be useful to have a Researcher around who has spent a considerable amount of time within each Department. I think the actual length was arbitrary."
Aiko snorted. She was braced against the short curve that defined the end of the roof, shoes dug in so that she wouldn't lose her balance as she sat almost vertically straight to watch her relatives below. "Arbitrary. Sounds about right."
"Watch it—I'm supposed to be the most cynical one."
"I like to think of it as a rousing competition between the two of us—with myself perpetually in the lead, of course."
"Of course."
"Glad you agree."
"It's always a marvel to meet someone who believes themselves to be so adept at being sarcastic without recognizing the tone in others."
"Isn't it?"
One of the boys below had enough of being targeted by the projectiles of three boys some distance away—with a roar, he charged them, downing one through sheer surprise before turning on another.
"Should we—"
"They'll be fine. Trust me; I've had plenty of experience with children."
"Not anymore though."
That made Aiko smile. Finally, after what was to her far too long in the side building, she was out. The new year brought a new semester and, following the end of the war and General Danzo stepping down to once more take his place as Advisor, a new Academy:
Following a report from Kato Doi and a Yamanaka Sakura only vaguely knew which addressed the increasing number of children showing signs of chronic stress, the days had shortened, the tests been made more straightforward, and more goals were pushed off to genin-age.
It had, in other words, seemed to revert more to what it was like in Sakura's time.
Given her perpetual boredom, Sakura wasn't sure she would have liked the change, but then it wasn't intended to cater to her: it was intended to get the most shinobi out the other side as possible.
"So," Aiko said, "I'm finally at my dream job—or near enough, anyway, given that the 'probationary' won't be dropped in front of the 'judge' for another year—and you're stuck with the one Department you didn't actually have anything ready for?"
"Only for half a year." Sakura said.
"And then?"
"Back to Efficiency Sciences, I suppose." With the results of her mission to the Land of Mushrooms, they'd actually gone so far as to divert several Researchers to Economics and Military Policy, but at the end of the day, many of her theories were revolutionary: she'd be expected to do much of the hard work of actually demonstrating their merit herself.
Aiko shrugged, unsurprised at the answer. "So then what do you do now?"
That was a hard question to answer.
Survivability and Lethality Analysis, led by Deputy Head Aburame, was a fairly straightforward department: it was statistics.
About death.
About life.
About which actions—of Konoha, of their enemies, resulted in the most of either.
It was the smallest Department, too, with only three desks for the three Researchers who worked there, including the Deputy Head.
They spent all day, every day, crunching numbers.
Sakura, upon her arrival, had not been asked to do that.
Because, as it turned out, there was one more Researcher in the Department: Uchiha Shuji.
"Do you know about Uchiha Shuji?"
"No. Should I?"
"Not necessarily… he's just," Sakura stopped, then spoke again. "He's another genius. He's in my Department, and he's come up with this 'computer' which will do a lot of the work we're doing but eons quicker, but he's having a bit of trouble getting it to work. Deputy Head Aburame decided that with my own 'genius', as well as my experience in every other Department, I have the best chance of helping him."
"Sooo it's not going well."
"No."
.
It wasn't, necessarily, that she didn't like Uchiha Shuji.
She thought he was quite helpful, very intelligent, and always ready to try something new.
But he also wanted, desperately, to work alone.
And now she was supposed to work with him.
He… hadn't taken well to that.
She spent most of her days, then, acting as a genin assistant, moving papers around and ensuring correct filing and not helping much with the actual Research that the Department was known for.
She considered complaining.
She dismissed it.
She'd figure it out, eventually: how to get Shuji to accept her help.
For now, though…
For now, she would keep taking long lunch breaks and working on her own notebooks in her hours of task-less workdays.
Most breaks she spent with her friends. Shin came back several weeks after the treaty, then left again to do something at the Capital, but Juro was still around—he'd switched to pediatrics, wanting a change after so long in field surgery, and was loving it so far.
Still, medical education was one of the more all-consuming work schedules, so their lunches together were rare.
Aiko was still around, would always be around with her career trajectory, but she'd finally gotten the career she'd been aiming for for years, and she spent most of her free time reading up on past cases and immersing herself in the legal world of Leaf: she and Sakura had lunch about once a week, but they were relatively short and to the point.
Sachiko was still on her mission with her son.
Yasuo was technically stationed within the walls, but then he was constantly away on missions: they hung out when possible, and his recent interest in Aiko meant he made at least some effort to make it to the lunches she was free, but…
Well, duty called.
She spent most days with her younger sisters and occasionally some of her older siblings too. Her mother wasn't back yet—Sakura, as with all of those she hadn't yet seen, tried not to worry—but Ren was at home again, and so she would eat with him, his wife, and kids (Rento was really loving being a genin assistant now, especially because apparently being her nephew came with some clout.) Sayuri was back too, but busy with… something, probably to do with her condors, and Aoi… well, it was unlikely that he'd ever come back; it had been so long since he'd been heard from that he'd almost definitely joined Kaede on the other side.
Kamui was still around, though, still cooking but also very busy with his girlfriend, so their time together was rare and usually a result of him coming home to deliver meals.
Akina and Arato were both on missions.
Fujio—her hotheaded two-years-older-brother—she spent the most time with out of all her elder siblings. He was back in T&I Headquarters and had recently taken up go as a hobby, so they played together at least once a week on top of more regular family dinners.
The friend she spent the most time with, though—twice or thrice a week, on average—was Bokuso.
Bokuso was also T&I.
Bokuso was also stationed in their headquarters.
Bokuso worked a shift that started just after lunch.
Bokuso, most importantly, had a giant ant room.
"Why ants?" Sakura asked, peering down at the colony trapped behind large glass walls with careful fuinjutsu lettering to leave the walls unassailable.
"It is a tradition: the Aburame care for more than just the insects within them."
"So every Aburame has ants?"
"More varied: butterflies, moths, mosquitos, larger beetles, and so on are also acceptable."
"So, why ants?"
Bokuso took some time to consider his answer. He was preparing a batch of fruit to put in the enclosures of his more herbivorous ants: he had a tight schedule for when to feed each colony its meals and never minded when Sakura came to observe, but up until now, they'd tended to talk about philosophy, or current events, or the latest of a series of detective books which had enraptured the nation.
"I like ants."
"Fair enough."
It was no secret to either of them that many of their friends and family thought they were flirting—why else would they spend so much time together?—but that never made it as a topic of conversation.
Sakura…
She was fifteen now, nearly sixteen, but she still didn't seem to feel as the other girls her age did. Being with someone wasn't repulsive, or anything, but she just… lacked interest.
Didn't see the appeal.
Bokuso, at least, didn't seem to mind.
Sakura glanced at the sun, causing the older teen to mimic her actions. "Time for work, I suppose."
Bokuso nodded. "I'll be feeding my new fire ant colony for the first time two days from now: I'll wait for your arrival before beginning."
"Thank you."
And then it was back to the basement and yet another failed attempt to get Shuji to understand she was useful for more than just menial labor.
Sakura came home to a house in uproar.
"So you're an idiot, is that it?!"
"Don't—speak to me—like that!—I'm—your older sister!" Sayuri's words would have had a bit more bite if they weren't constantly being interrupted by her sneezing and her having clearly locked herself in her room.
Kohana, who looked absolutely flabbergasted, barely reacted to the sound of the front door opening except to continue to yell at the closed door. Himari was much calmer, though—was actually laughing—and wasted no time filling Sakura in:
"Sayuri adopted a cat."
"Sayuri is allergic to cats."
"She thought it was too cute to leave."
"She is allergic to cats."
"That's why they're arguing."
"You can't live like this!" Kohana's voice rang out. "You have to realize that!"
"—I—can and I will!" Sayuri shouted back.
Sakura considered the closed door. "Did you lose the condor contract, then?"
"I—didn't—" There was a long pause where intermittent sneezing was the only sound to be heard. "I still have—it." Sayuri said at last. "Just—not main—summoner."
"So you got a cat."
"It—seemed like a—good idea, at—the time."
"How?! How?!" Kohana had not yet stopped trying to open the door. "I do not want to have to drag you to the hospital!"
"It's just—sneezing!"
"Sayuri." Sakura said.
"I'm fine!" Sayuri lied. Then sneezed. "Really! I can—cope!"
The door unlocked.
"Look—how cute she is!" Sayuri said, peeking out to show exactly how red and teary her face was but trying to divert attention to the black and white spotted kitten in her arms.
"Okay, I agree with Kohana. You're an idiot."
Sayuri tried to look hurt, but sneezed too frequently to quite manage the expression.
"You have to give him away, Sayuri." Kohana, who was still considered the director of the house, said.
"But—"
"You. Are. Allergic." Sakura said. "Really allergic." Sayuri sneezed. "Why did you adopt him again?"
"He's so cute!"
"You're allergic!"
"Can you take him?"
"I live here too, you know!"
"Yeah, but you—could move out and then I could—visit him!"
"Sayuri, no."
"Why would you want to—you are so teary you can't even see right now, Sayuri!"
"That's not his fault!"
"Sayuri!"
Eventually, after another ten minutes of arguing and Sayuri's reaction moving from just sneezing and crying to outright wheezing, Sakura's older sister allowed her cat to be taken away by Himari and given to a neighbor.
It did, however, wake a suggestion of an idea in Sakura's mind.
What if she did move out?
It wasn't—it wasn't even remotely necessary, really; technically, only Ren, Sayuri, Kamui, and Fujio had moved out, and her older sister had moved back in because of the war—the only reason Fujio hadn't done the same was that his friend had a flat mere steps away from his workplace—so there wasn't, really, any rush.
She liked her sisters too, and she liked her room, and she liked her backyard, and only having to do a couple of the household chores.
But…
She could also have her own place.
Choose where to live.
Always know she had somewhere quiet to retreat to.
Did she want that?
Sakura, after mulling it over some, dismissed the thought.
She was only fifteen, after all; there was no rush.
And, of course, this way she didn't have to do any of the laundry.