It took all of Sakura's training not to tense as she walked into the shop. There was only one customer—male, average-looking, slightly panicked—and her sister (it was late evening, which was always understaffed), but something was wrong.
She just didn't know what.
And then she did.
Her sister's brows were drawn—that wasn't worrying on its own, she'd draw her brows over argumentative customers, over customers that admitted to forgetting important dates, even over customers who chose to put flowers together that she wouldn't—but in addition one of her legs was tensed, ready to jump back from the table.
"Hey Kohana!" Sakura said, a bit louder than she usually would.
Kohana turned to her easily enough, apparently not too scared to take her eyes off the man. Her leg stayed tense. "Hello, Sakura. How was the mission?"
"Fine. A bit more boring than I expected." What they were doing now—having a conversation beyond the most basic of hellos—was considered the height of rudeness with a customer in the shop, but Kohana was still on edge, so she didn't care.
She took the time to examine the man without him noticing.
He wasn't a ninja—not nearly the reserves, and at this distance, she could even tell he wasn't hiding any (or, if he was, he was above the average jounin in ability, which when taken with how he clearly hadn't managed to do whatever it was he wanted to do without notice…) and he didn't seem particularly physically adept either.
"Perhaps you can help this man out?" Kohana said. "I believe he's looking for your expertise more than mine."
"Oh, oh no, that won't be necessary. I'll just take my leave."
Sakura's eyes flashed to Kohana.
She stood in the entrance.
"No, no, tell me what's wrong. Perhaps I can help."
His mouth stayed shut.
Kohana's didn't. "He wanted to know if we had any cheap flowers someone could knock someone else out with."
"Oh?"
"I—I have sleep issues, you see."
"And you didn't go to a doctor?"
"All their medicines are too expensive, and lots of times they don't work. I thought this would be easier. Just—a nectar or something that could make me sleep instantly."
Kohana moved around the counter. "Nectar doesn't do that."
"But some plants do, right?" Then, remembering that he just wanted to leave, "Never mind, it's not important. Maybe I'll try another doctor."
Sakura'd memorized his face by then. "You do that." She stood to the side, letting him walk out.
"Why'd you do that?!" Kohana cried the second he was out of hearing range. "Sleep problems my butt!"
"Don't worry," Sakura said. "I'll sketch out his face and send it to the police, with a message. They can track him down and see if his story checks out."
"It won't."
"Then they'll figure out what the real reason is," Sakura groaned, "and deal with that. It'll be fine, okay?"
"Fine."
"Good."
"Great."
"Just wanted to tell you I'm home."
That, at least, broke Kohana's gloaming countenance. "I noticed. You know, what with you standing right in front of me and all."
"You don't even want to hug me? For all you know I could've trekked thousands of miles uphill and fought hundreds of pirates to make it back!"
Kohana rolled her eyes. "You already said it was uneventful. Can't go back on that now."
.
Sakura, back at work, flipped through a manual on how to use a modified wristwatch lazily. She was supposed to be making sure the instructions were accurate and worked with the prototype she'd been given—looked normal, functioned well, could be used to inject poison only when its wearer wanted it to—and watch out for typos besides, but she already knew the invention wouldn't take off: the angle was too inconvenient, and its creator, chuunin Nara Nori, was well known for his speed in producing new inventions to the level of being technically usable before realizing such a fundamental flaw.
It would work better, she thought, using one of those new ink pens.
She glanced up to where the chuunin sat, scarfing down lunch, and wondered if she could get away with saying that.
It was a bit of a toss-up, really.
Most researchers simply didn't care what their genin counterparts thought. Genin were there as cheap labor, to learn quietly. That said, if they were in a good mood, the suggestion was well thought out, and the genin didn't register as 'too new; uppity' in their brain…
Nori was in a good mood.
Her suggestion had merit.
She'd worked here less than a year.
She looked down and made a mental note to mention her idea in passing to one of the other genin in earshot of Nori. He'd steal the credit, but the better invention would be made and he'd remember her the next time she thought of something.
In the meantime, she'd already written up her first draft of a typewriter proposal; if it was deemed good enough to go into immediate revision, she could submit it for prototype creation in less than two years—a necessarily long hurdle to get to the shorter turn-around times of a Research chuunin.
.
Despite the majority of ninja not being frontline, the majority of jounin were. There was good reason for that.
In frontline (and tracking), most promotions were done in the huge contests that were chuunin exams, showing off the more overt talent of their Hidden Village for the world to admire (and fear.) After the chuunin exams came the special jounin exams, limited to ninja and families, and then jounin exams, yet another show of skill and technique—but one that was reserved for only ninja to watch.
While jounin exams were really the only way to get promoted that high, chuunin and special jounin
Some of the rest of the specialties got promoted in the same way, or at least participated in a chuunin exam before moving up a rank, but most didn't require it, or even suggest it.
There were two other options: the first, loosely called "backline" ninjas, specialized in focuses like T&I and medical. They tended to be relatively structured, too, have set goals that, once accomplished, would see them promoted. Sakura had no idea what Shin's were (if he was backline), but Juro had to take a ridiculously long test about just about every medical thing he knew in order to become a chuunin, and then (outside of war) he'd be allowed to treat the sniffles and little else until, after three doctors agreed, he was promoted again to special jounin and given the official title of "doctor."
The second option outside of frontline were officially "support" and unofficially the "paperwork ninjas."
Sakura was one of those.
Paperwork ninjas got promoted, usually, after literal years of waiting. They were not the type that rose in ranks in a matter of months; it took building reputation, connections, a clear identity for yourself, and it took a space opening up: in Research the number of special jounin never seemed to be more than a handful per sub-Department.
Chuunin were similarly restricted.
In all likelihood, Sakura wouldn't become a chuunin until well after she'd reached her teens and while sometimes that grated, that felt too much like failure when Yasuo was already talking about being promoted and Juro was also studying for his own promotion test and Bokuso'd just begun working in T&I and was already looking about a promotion within the year—
But, she reminded herself, Aiko was in a very similar position to her in the justice department, and Shin was unable to talk about anything at all, and Sachiko—Sachiko who she hadn't seen since the Academy—was in infiltration, and they basically never got promoted unless they were put in charge of someone else or did really, really absurdly well in a long-term mission.
Still.
As she passed her eleventh birthday Sakura couldn't help but wonder if this, brief breaks of novelty between long stretches of tea making, would be all life was.
.
Sensei looked up as Sakura entered his office. It was the largest single office in the Diplomacy rooms—only the Emissary office was larger, but they had to share—and it was extraordinarily neat and symmetrical in its layout. Sensei was kneeling behind his desk, putting the final touches on what looked like a formal message.
Sakura wondered who it was for.
Sensei waved her to one of the pillows placed on the floor, and she knelt.
"You've been requested for an extrication mission and will be leaving for the Water Nation as soon as possible."
Sakura nodded, trying not to visibly show her shock at getting a mission without the rest of her team already.
"You will be team leader."
"What?!"
Sensei sighed. He liked to sigh; he did it exactly the same each time, and in response to so many emotions that the only thing you could surmise out of context is that he felt something. "This mission will involve masquerading as merchants on a ship, and you are one of very few with seagoing experience. You are also very intelligent, which will allow you to more easily keep cover as your partner's daughter and run the mission while your partner—a long term infiltrator who currently goes by Eiko—works on getting in and out. Your sensing ability was also considered an additional benefit."
Sakura nodded slowly, but her heart pounded in her chest. She was too young—far too young—for this sort of responsibility! She was eleven, now, and her being 'smart but young' and having seagoing experience and the ability to sense all felt like stupid reasons to send her, particularly when she'd never before done an infiltration mission at all.
"Additionally," Sensei said, watching her so carefully she could feel the change, "the ninja you are extricating is your brother, Arato."
Sakura gaped at him.
Arato…
She hadn't seen Arato in years.
She'd known, or at least assumed, he'd gone into infiltration like so much of the rest of their family had, but he (and Akina) never seemed to make it home at all; Aoi had stopped by more, at least at first, and her father still made a point of trying to make it back at least once a year. Arato and Akina had made no such considerations, though Sakura knew that it was probably not their fault: most long-term missions did not tend to allow for frequent cover breaks.
Arato.
Six years older than her, with dark brown hair and girlish looks and, as their mother put it, "too many opinions for his own good."
If she succeeded, he'd be coming home. If she failed…
Sakura, having taken a minute to compose herself (and marvel at Sensei not remonstrating her for needing the time at all), looked at him again.
"Would a more practiced ninja not be better suited?"
Again, Sensei sighed. It was the same sigh as earlier, coming from the same face, but it felt infinitely more exhausted. "We are preparing for war, Sakura, and no matter what our Emissary says about the success of his pacifying mission in Iwa it is still only a matter of when, not if. There is simply too much that needs to be done, and too few hands to do it with, for us to send the best candidate to every mission.
"So we fall back on the best candidate available.
"That's you."
"I really wish it weren't."
Sensei allowed himself a quirk of his lips. "Your opinion is noted," he started, and Sakura finished–
"and will be given the due diligence it deserves." None, in other words.
She, an eleven-year-old who was currently missing one of her bottom canine teeth because the new one hadn't grown in yet, she was supposed to be running a mission.
Genin never ran missions, and almost every genin out there was older than her.
Life really wasn't fair sometimes.
.
She took two full days to prepare, burying herself in texts at the shinobi library and grilling several clan elders that had specialized in infiltration on any suggestions she had every evening.
She told Shin and Juro what she was doing and why, the extreme weight she'd been put under, and let them bring her lunch and replace already read books with new ones and help her force as much of the necessary information as possible into her head before time ran out.
And then she left.
A jounin she did not recognize was the one that transported her to the seaside. He was tall and lean, built for speed, and he knew how to be covert, bringing her to the water under the cover of darkness before using his water chakra to power a small skiff, usually kept in a storage seal, all the way out to where a large ship waited in the murky darkness.
He found the rope hanging from the side of the ship in no time at all, and soon Sakura was scrambling up the side, trying not to make any sound as she did so.
She was halfway up when he turned around to head back.
She arrived at the top of the rope to find a small cabin and a man she vaguely recognized from clan functions inside. He had stark black hair and grey-green eyes and a carefully cropped beard but still.
It was the chin, she thought.
"Name yourself." He didn't seem particularly on guard, which was good, but he was also not relaxed, which was even better.
"Yamanaka Sakura."
The man snorted, but nodded. "Took your time, didn't you?"
She didn't answer.
"Right. Well, I used a clone to get you on board, and spread the rumor that you were recovering from the pox, so no one's been too surprised not to see you. I did a pretty good likeness, I think. We'll have to add some pox scars, but that's it."
Sakura grabbed her hair instinctively—died dark, dark black, same as his—and glanced at his eyes again. They'd chosen a darker color for hers, but they really did look like a father-daughter duo.
"My name?"
"Yumiko. Last name Ishikawa. I sell my brother's pottery, you're my daughter and sole heir following your younger brother's death. I'm not exactly thrilled about having a female heir but care enough about keeping it in the family to train you anyway. You and I spent very little time together until your brother's death. Your mother's name is Kanon, and ours was an arranged marriage. My brother's pottery is somewhat popular in the Lands of Steam and Frost but he's been expanding so I'm looking for new markets."
Sakura nodded. "And Arato?"
Eiko grinned. "Your future husband."
Sakura made a face.
"Don't worry, your character's not that pleased about it either. I haven't told you, but I have told some on this ship, that my brother is looking to find a new clay supplier and solidify the alliance with a marriage. Arato—who's name will obviously not be Arato—will come with us to meet the family and see if marrying you is something he'd like to do, though neither of us have met or even know of him yet."
"Okay."
"Your clothes are in that trunk."
"Okay."
"We'll be arriving tomorrow morning. Any other questions?" Sakura stared at him, and Eiko allowed himself a smile. "Oh, right, the information about the actual infiltration. I knew I was forgetting something."
"It'd be nice, yeah," Sakura said.
"Arato's acting as a noble's consort, right now. You know what that means, right?" Sakura nodded. "Good. So I can get you into the city, and south—where our clay supplier is supposed to be located, a few miles south—"
"What's the clay supplier supposed to be? How do we prove we're going there?"
"We're not going to bother giving a name, our 'official' reason for being here is to sell. Our unofficial but not hidden reason is the supplier, and we can get away with that by making it seem like we don't want that information to go back to our current supplier, so no one will ever ask for a name and there's enough clay suppliers south of the city that it won't matter."
Sakura nodded.
"Great, so as I was saying, I can get you south. The noble's estate is to the south, just outside the outer ring of the city—here that's just how it's done. He owns the mines nearby too. Now, Arato's sent some messages—here," he handed Sakura a thin scroll, "a summary. The basic floor plan of the estate is in there, as well as the people who live there and that sort of thing. You'll be in charge of the extricating him bit. Here's the important part: Arato is one of the noble's favorites. He doesn't have that many male consorts, and among them, Arato is first. This has helped—a lot—in getting him information, but it also means his absence will be noticed immediately. I've got the things needed to mask his appearance, make him look like a water native, but by the time we leave they'll probably have caught on. We'll also be leaving rather quickly, more quickly than we can easily explain away.
We'll spend a couple days in the city working on deals with various merchants—I can offer them an actual pottery contract, so that will help our cover. After we've done enough of that that I think we're falling beneath notice, we'll head south, at which point you'll get Arato. Then we'll head back up and I'll get a ship, under the guise of the negotiations going better than I'd thought and me running to ride the fortune. While on that ship we'll likely be stopped over the runaway consort, and while I'm good at pretending to be a merchant that's it. I'm not a hider, or a fighter, or anything like that.
That's your job.
Got it?"
Sakura nodded.
"Good. Let's get to sleep."