The manatee looked…

Peaceful.

It was peaceful, really. The island itself was constantly inundated with storms—the three-tails leaking in ways that were impossible to fully control—but…

Well, it was a manatee.

It had no natural predators; it didn't hunt; its food was never really scarce.

…In other words, it was dumb.

Peaceful.

Kakashi tossed the rest of the manatee's meal—seaweed, grabbed on the way in—and watched as the slow beast gleefully and messily went after the greens.

"Hey, uh." This, this was probably why Kushina wanted to wait until she had a name.

"Brother of Kurama. Or, sister? Do—do you have a gender?"

Not important.

Maybe important. People cared about pronouns, didn't they? And maybe tailed beasts were the same?

"It's… it's nice to meet you." In his head, Kakashi could feel the Six-Tails as it—well, it wasn't actually doing anything (the 'cage' was metaphorical) but it certainly felt like the Six-Tails was running its body against the bars, coming awake.

"I'm Hatake Kakashi, and I'm one of the current jinchuuriki. I—"

He wanted to do this.

He wanted to show Sensei, and the Six-Tails, and himself, that he could do this.

He could help.

But now he was standing here, in front of the manatee, and he just kind of felt. Stupid.

"My sensei is looking into how to… not jail you. To let you be free. The problem—" Not problem. Kushina said to stop phrasing it like that. "—I mean, the reason we, as in, like, us people, haven't… um, done that, is because… you're, like, very deadly."

Kakashi cleared his throat. "Um, around fifty years ago—more than that, actually, Senju Hashirama sealed Kurama into his wife because Kurama had been running from village to village, leaving nothing but bones and ashes in his wake. And then—and then Senju Hashirama, he figured out how to let Uzumaki Mito, his wife—he figured out how to let her use Kurama's power."

Kakashi swallowed.

The Six-Tails was definitely listening, definitely paying far more attention than he/she/they/it had when Kakashi had been talking to him/her/them alone.

Kakashi hoped the Three-Tails was listening too.

"I think… I think that's where everything went wrong. If… if being a jinchuuriki was just a matter of containment, then… then that would be bad, but the other tailed beasts, like you, probably wouldn't have ended up sealed, because Senju Hashirama was the only one who could do that back then and the only reason he sealed all of you was because the other villages said Uzumaki Mito was too powerful to leave alive without something similarly powerful for them. So, it would still have been bad for Kurama… Kurama would still have been locked up… but that, um, that would not have been as bad.

"Because eventually people would want to study tailed beasts, and decide to start with Kurama, and then they'd find out… that you're sentient. Sapient.

"And… and that would have changed history. If we'd known that. Or maybe it wouldn't have. Jiraiya thinks we're too optimistic.

"Anyway, now we know that. We know that you're, um, sapient. But… well, first, we don't want to release you unless we are pretty certain you won't kill, just like we treat murderers. And second, we only… that is, Konoha only has control over you, the Six-Tails inside me, and Kurama. So even after we come to an agreement and release you, getting control of the others is… problematic."

Kakashi sat in silent for a moment. He could feel the Six-Tails doing the same inside him. He cleared his throat. "Anyway! We are trying. We are—planning stuff, and trying to talk to the Six-Tails and Kurama, and to figure out how to talk to you too.

"So, I know it's not… not perfect, but we are working on it. I just, um, wanted to let you know."

Because the Six-Tails wasn't talking to him.

Because Kakashi was feeling more and more helpless, and wanted to be able to contribute something.

Because the more he thought about it, the more horrified he was by what the tailed beasts were forced to endure, mass-murder or no.

(Kushina had talked to Kurama. Believed Kurama saw people as animals, not peers. And Kakashi had eaten quite a lot of meat in his life, stepped on more than a few bugs for doing nothing more than existing in his room.)

"Alright!" Kakashi said, coming to his feet. "I have to go now—I have to get to a birthday party—but I'll visit you again soon."

Kakashi hesitated, trying to decide if it was worth it to bow to a manatee facing entirely the wrong direction.

He decided it wouldn't do any harm.

"Goodbye, Three-Tails. I will visit again soon."

.

Minato hesitated, trying to smile in a way that conveyed he was happy, and not laughing at them, and not confused, and not—

"I know, I know." Kushina dropped into the seat across from him, burying her face in her hands.

"We tried," Kakashi offered.

And, yes, Minato believed that.

On the other hand…

"Is it… burnt?"

"We put it in for the right time!… I mean, yes, it's definitely burnt. But… I don't know, okay! We used Kakashi's oven!"

"How was I supposed to know the oven was broken? I said we should buy the cake too!"

"It's fine, it's fine!" Minato said. "I appreciate the thought." He smiled, then looked down at the cake.

It was black.

Minato knew for a fact that it was a vanilla cake.

A black vanilla cake.

"Um, do you have… any other… food, um, prepared?"

Kakashi and Kushina stared at him.

He stared back.

"Want to go look for a new ramen place?" Kushina asked.

"Yes, let's do that."

It had been quite a while since Minato had been able to spend time doing nothing but taste-testing new ramen.

"I know a place!" Kakashi said. "It's called Ichiraku Ramen."

.

Fugaku didn't crumple the letter, didn't visibly react at all, but it was a very near thing.

Suna had responded to all of his 'issues' and now—

Now he'd run out of reasons to say no.

To not defect.

He'd run out of reasons, except that—

Except that he didn't want to leave.

Konoha was his home, was the place he'd worked hard to be able to raise his son in.

And Itachi was such a happy, smiling child, and learning so, so much, and Fugaku wanted to know what his son would be able to do, how he would be able to improve Konoha—

But he supposed that Itachi would be able to rise in Suna's government instead.

It just…

It wouldn't be the same.

(Fugaku had never thought of himself as nostalgic. As sentimental.

(And then his wife had died.)

He set down the letter.

Looked out of his window, at the cherry blossoms.

And he wondered how quickly he would have to send his response.

.

Ibiki held up his newly-summoned summons to each ear, waiting patiently as they got settled. A good chunk were now training in their own world—it was 'interesting' apparently, so they'd pretty happily agreed to give it a go.

And now that was exactly what they were doing.

Ibiki kept his eyes and ears peeled, but he couldn't see anything amiss.

But then, he wouldn't.

That was the entire point.

He was in the forest, and birds and rodents and deer and predators were busy with life, and—

How would he even be able to tell if a summons was nearby?

But his fireflies—

They immediately began murmuring to him.

Animal, animal, animal, animal.

They were pretty sure the one thirty meters to the right was a rodent.

There was a bird of some sort, too, high overhead.

Deer, as well. Always deer.

But none that stood out as summons.

And summons-sensing as a whole was—

Well, invaluable.

The thing was, people were not very good at sensing summons. Everything—all trees, animals, even rocks (according to monks, at least) contained some amount of chakra, and while both people and summons developed their chakra in ways that should have been recognizable, in practice summons' systems were so alien to human ones that people really had to practice identifying specific species of summons with any accuracy; they had to spend time, loads of it, around the native animal until they were finally able to note if any individuals diverged from the expected, were more than likely not-of-this-world.

Cat summons didn't have that issue.

Now the goal was to make fireflies unencumbered.

Another whisper—the bird flying overhead was dipping down, had seemingly spotted prey.

On and on it went, until everything the fireflies could sense had been accounted for.

And nothing was—nothing was summons.

Then silence.

And more silence.

And slowly, Ibiki's stomach began plummeting.

This was a new generation, a smart generation, and he'd spent so long working with them, working with the Aburame, and he'd been sure they'd been about to break the barrier, and—

Nothing?

Perhaps the summons had passed by too quickly to be identified by the fireflies?

Perhaps they were too far away?

Maybe a summons they hadn't sensed before, didn't know wasn't native to this plane?

Half an hour later, and no progress had been made.

And then—

"The bird, it has gotten closer," the firefly in his right ear—the only one that knew how to speak—whispered. "It is… it feels odd. At this distance."

Ibiki couldn't help himself; he turned, looked.

And—

That was a condor.

And—

Konoha had a condor summons.

And—

And Ibiki was racing out of the forest, racing to the Aburame he was working with today, almost whooping with excitement, and the Aburame knew immediately, and Ibiki shouted—

"It was a condor, wasn't it!"

And the Aburame smiled, and Ibiki grinned, and yes, it wasn't as good as they hoped—the condor was eerily close when Ibiki turned—but—

They'd found an alternative to the cats.

…The Uchiha were going to be pissed.

.

Bathtime was always easy with Ame.

No matter what her daughter's mood—happy, upset, sick, tired—the second even a toe dipped into the bath Ame turned into a giggly mess.

(Hono just knew that the second her girl was a little more agile, she'd be trying to drown herself in the sink.)

Bathtime was always easy with Ame, but that had not been Hono's experience with her kinsmen. Or herself, for that matter.

The Uchiha… didn't tend to be fans.

Of baths.

Of showers.

Of water in general, really.

She'd asked Fuyuki about it, and he'd thought, told her that it was more hit-and-miss with his clan. Some kids loved it, some hated it, some were indifferent.

He'd asked around too, and all his elders agreed—no one loved water as much as Ame did.

"She's definitely going to be water-natured," Fuyuki agreed.

In front of them Ame tried to wrestle past her father's hand, tried to get just enough freedom to fall facedown into the bath.

"Definitely," Hono agreed. "Well, at least she won't burn her mouth to learn her element."

"That's how you learn fire?" Fuyuki held back his laugh, focused on keeping their daughter from living out her ambition of becoming a fish, but it was a near thing. "Geez."

"How do you learn water techniques, then?"

"…spitting."

"What?"

"Spitting. You, um, you get some water in your mouth, focused on filling your mouth with chakra, and…"

"Spit." Hono blinked, not particularly enjoying the connections her mind was making. "We spit too, don't we?"

Fuyuki snorted this time. "Oh, that's funny. What do wind-natured people do? Fart?"

"I thought your bloodline was half wind-natured."

"Yes, but we learn wind third, after water and ice."

"Huh."

"Is all Uchiha just fire?"

"No," Hono said. "Actually, I'm lightning."

"Huh."

All these little things they still didn't know about each other, not even after all this time.

…But it was very, very nice learning them.

(Hono knew about the whispers in her clan.

(Knew about how Fugaku had stopped talking to her, reassuring her.

(Knew what they were planning.

(But she'd made a life in Uzu, and she wasn't about to let that go.)