Ibiki sat across from Elder Yamanaka of the Mind-Walker line.
The woman was ancient—in her nineties, at least. Ibiki did know that she'd still spent more time alive prior to the founding of Konoha than following it; she was one of only six among the Yamanaka for whom that was true.
She was also the direct granddaughter of the first Yamanaka to get a summoning contract—the cranes.
Elder Yamanaka's great-great-granddaughter was the one who served tea. She was a chuunin, tall and lanky and on the fast track to jounin.
She was a very good mindwalker, apparently.
She was also one of only four Yamanaka with a crane contract.
The cranes, Elder Yamanaka explained, were picky.
They were also exceptionally useful.
Cranes had ways of hypnotizing their targets, loosening their mouths and mesmerizing them into spilling secrets before they knew what they were doing.
Cranes had also agreed to keep watch for their summoner.
They refused to fight, but they did agree to teach their summoners their fighting style, a style which formed the basis of many of the Yamanaka's modern-day styles.
They also agreed to 'perform exceptionally' when necessary, though that was left deliberately vague.
Elder Yamanaka set down her teacup, looking at Ibiki as she did so. "You've done well, Ibiki-chan," she assured him. "Convincing the fireflies to accept a provisional contract while both parties feel out what they wish."
The firefly that rested on the helix of Ibiki's right ear hummed in agreement, and the sandhill crane to his left also chirruped their approval.
"Our arrangement with the cranes may also not work for your own summoning contract. It is good that you have reached out for multiple sources."
Again, the crane and firefly agreed.
Ibiki hadn't actually wanted to—it seemed like a lot of work, especially because he already knew how his Aunt Sayuri had adjusted to her condor contract—but then, she'd only taken an existing contract. A contract of the enemy, sure, but its scope was already set, its boundaries firm and understood.
Ibiki and the fireflies didn't have a true summoning contract yet.
Technically, the fireflies could refuse him outright still—the main purpose of the temporary contract was to get Ibiki back to the right world.
That said, the fireflies had still agreed to make the contract two months long.
They were willing, almost eager, to explore the new world that Ibiki's presence offered them.
But they still had to come to some sort of agreement.
Shin had all but written out the messages for Ibiki himself.
And, for the past three days, Ibiki had taken advantage of the kindness of many of the summoners of Konoha.
The Akimichi were less helpful—their cow contract was solely to do with agriculture, an agreement to provide crop advice and occasional labor and veterinary help (apparently the summoned cows did not view this world's cows as their own—only poor and therefore uninteresting facsimiles—but their internal structure was still similar enough for them to be a great aid in keeping the Akimichi herds healthy.)
The condors—technically a general Konoha contract—he already knew about.
The Nara deer were a particularly unusual example—they'd been in a losing battle to protect their home world's territory, and while they had managed to keep a portion, the summons had by-and-large begun treating this world as equally their own.
The Sarutobi monkeys were interesting, but the Sarutobi were busy, apparently, so Ibiki mostly just relied on what Asuma had already told him.
The Hatake hounds were interesting, if only because it was basically the only tea Ibiki had which wasn't with an elder—Kakashi was actually more helpful than Ibiki had expected, explaining that the hound contract was one of the first summoning contracts there was record of and therefore one of the most open-ended. Kakashi explained how he tended to have more one-on-one deals between different hounds, only summoning them as frequently as they wished for the reasons they preferred.
The Uchiha hadn't really met with Ibiki, but they had two well-known summons: the corvid contract (whose details were kept very private), and the cats (who were perhaps the most well-known of all Konoha summons, because it was their duty to wander the village and make sure no enemy summons invaded their territory—an expertise which allowed Konoha to have far more lax animal laws than any other Hidden Village.)
The Yamanaka—because the Yamanaka Elder who happened to know the most was ill—were the last stop of Ibiki's journey. (Every dragonfly summoner was also away, working, so—despite their summons possibly being the most like his own—he'd have to do without.)
After the tea was over and Ibiki took his leave, he decided to wander around town. His Sensei was busy today—she really only had time to instruct them every other day—and he, Sadao, and Misaki had completed their D-ranks that morning.
The timing meant he had over an hour free before he'd been expected home for lunch, and the firefly—whose name was apparently a specific pattern of flashing light—wished to see more of Konoha as a city.
As Ibiki wandered, his thoughts did too.
The firefly contract—it would be a benefit.
But—
Getting the contract—
It had been days since it had happened, over a week, and all of his guardians had taken to checking on him every couple hours, just reassuring themselves of his continued presence.
He told them it was annoying.
He pretended he couldn't relate.
He didn't tell them about the nightmares.
He didn't tell anyone about those.
(Everything turned out all right, after all. Sadao had even sniped about how Ibiki just got through life on luck—the Uchiha's animosity still inexplicably strong. Everything was alright, so Ibiki was just going to get over it.)
(He was.)
(Probably.)
He didn't want to think about the nightmares, about the hundreds of worst-case-scenarios his brain could come up with.
He changed direction, went to the training fields.
As he'd expected, Hatake Kakashi—barely his senior—was training with his dogs in Training Ground Seven.
"Morino," Kakashi said.
Ibiki nodded back at him. Kakashi was really far too strong for any sort of traditional sparring, but—
"Want to play hide and seek?"
When he'd gone to meet with Kakashi about the hounds, the firefly had immediately flown straight up and away, and had watched from a distance for nearly the entire conversation. Towards the end, the firefly had come back and explained.
It could sense Kakashi's chakra.
It knew it wasn't human.
Kakashi had smirked, told Ibiki to figure it out.
It hadn't really taken that long, in the end.
"Hide and seek" meant Kakashi trying to muffle his chakra from the senses while Ibiki and the firefly tried to find him.
Ibiki's main job for the game was keeping Kakashi from just hiding underground—he hadn't yet developed the earth affinity he'd apparently inherited from his father enough to get Kakashi out of the ground, but he could move the ground, literally 'feel' Kakashi out—while the firefly relied on its sight, smell, and chakra sense to track Kakashi above ground.
Kakashi was faster, better trained, and longer-practiced than Ibiki.
Ibiki still usually won.
It was hard, after all, to hide a beast's chakra.
"Yeah," Kakashi said, the corners of his eyes wrinkling the slightest bit. "I've been meditating a lot—let's see if you can keep up."
Ibiki grinned.
By the time he left for home, Ibiki was drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin as he walked.
The firefly flew close to his ear—apparently, Ibiki was too sweaty to rest on.
Dinner was already being served as he entered—he'd cut it too close—so Ibiki swung upstairs to shower, ignoring the noises Uncle Juro was making because, well, he'd already mistimed things. Listening to the admonishment wouldn't help that.
By the time he was back downstairs—lightning-quick shower, change, half a second of brushing to make sure his hair wouldn't fall on the firefly—everyone had already begun eating.
"Sorry, sorry!" Ibiki said.
Aunt Sakura hummed disbelievingly, but Uncle Juro just rolled his eyes. Uncle Shin was back at the Capital.
Uncle Juro would join him soon, they'd told him.
Was doing some sort of exchange program deal with the medical people over there.
Ibiki had asked a lot of questions and, upon realizing that Uncle Juro wasn't exactly going to be learning loads of cool jutsu, grown used to it.
It would suck to go home and not see Uncle Juro, but that was growing up, wasn't it?
When Aunt Sakura was his age, she'd already killed. At least he didn't have to do that.
Yet.
Clearly, though, he had to do something.
On either side of him, his guardians were carefully not staring.
"What?"
"Do you have the firefly contract nailed down?"
"I was going to work on it tomorrow. I finished meeting with everyone today."
"There's a deadline for that now," Aunt Sakura said. "The Hokage just gave the orders—your team is going up to the Land of Iron, and I'm joining you. Diplomatic mission."
Ibiki's chopsticks clattered on the plate. "I—I have an actual mission? Like a mission-mission? Where I'm expected to do things? And I get paid? And it all takes place outside the village?"
Aunt Sakura smirked. "More or less."
"When do we leave?"
"Dawn in three days."
"Yes!"