Summary: He hadn't been told as much, probably because his mother would never trust him with this kind of information, but Kiba wasn't an idiot. There was a reason why Rex had thrown him at the 104th with the express order of not getting caught by their General. And that reason most probably had something to do with the shit-show Umbara had been... even if Kiba didn't really know the true reason.

(Or, that one story where Kiba is ping-ponged from one battalion to another for reasons beyond his control but he doesn't mind because he's able to put his master plan into action)

~..~..~

His soul was abuzz with electricity.

The aches in his body would probably remain for the next few rotations, but they were more than worth the amazing experience he had just been a part of—and what he was now getting to do. The shiny bruise that would undoubtedly pop up on his chin would be one that he would gladly wear with pride once it came in and he really hoped the rest of the troops didn't think anything negative of it. Seeing how they were so very Inuzuka, though, he was willing to wager they would only see it as a good thing to flaunt about.

"You ever done anything like this?"

Jesse's voice had become real easy to distinguish from the rest of the men. Kiba guessed it probably had something to do with the fact that his words were generally laden with a veneer of confidence that bordered on ego, but didn't quite strike it. Very likely, it also had something to do with the fact that he was the soldier he had most interacted with outside of Tup the Pup and Rex.

"Not like this." he smiled as he made sure that the brush he was holding had enough paint on its tip without it being a mess of a blob. "Back in the Inuzuka Clan there's something similar, which is when pups finish their first hunt and get their tattoos. But it's pretty different."

For starters, there was a huge feast that was thrown to mark the coming of age of the Inuzuka pups. There was dancing there, sure, but it really didn't compare to what the clones had done. There was no feast to be had, mostly because they were still part of the military and technically always on the clock, but there had been dancing. And that dancing had been exactly what had left him with bruises and charged with far too much energy.

It was a dance that the commander batch had passed down to the troops, Jesse had told him. It was supposedly Mando'a in origin, but had probably changed so much as it was handed down from generation of clone to generation of clone that it probably had nothing to do with its roots any more. Well... battle-dance was really more like it- perfectly fitting for the troopers and his Inuzuka sensibilities.

Then there was the fact that there was no grand arbiter controlling who got to paint what. When the Inuzuka pups got their fangs, it was the Clan Elders that handed off their tattoos. The troops, though, that were marking their armor up were doing it themselves. If they wanted, they could ask for consultation from those that already gotten to decide on their paint, but Kiba really hadn't seen anyone doing that just yet.

"So those are tattoos, huh?" Jesse came around and Kiba glanced up at him, smiling broadly. "You just earned me a few credits, kid."

Clone troopers were very similar to the Inuzuka Clan. But they were also very different. The biggest thing Kiba had found to like that they did not share was the way in which they called him. They all called him kid, if not Inuzuka, or young'un; not runt. He wasn't quite sure they had adopted that term and why they hadn't gone along with his mother's preferred language. But he knew that he was damn happy.

"Did you guys think they could be birthmarks?" he asked, head cocking to the side; Jesse shrugged.

"The Commander's species is born with that kind of thing. Zabrak's too, I think." so there were plenty of reasons for the troops to think that, even if to Kiba, it was still kind of obvious that what was on his face wasn't natural, "Can't understand that, though. The General's marks' are almost identical to yours; that doesn't just happen, if you know what I mean."

With a nod, Kiba looked back down at the leg plate he was supposed to paint.

He had thought that he knew what he wanted to paint- a simple series of lines and a couple of fang-like marks at the very center of all four pieces that were going to be his official battlefield garb. He had also wanted to paint the complete tops of both feet and hand coverings in the blue because he just liked that idea.

There was something holding him back, though.

Was he not giving enough importance to this whole thing? No... that couldn't be it. The rest of the troops around him teetered the line between excitement and severity- this was important, yes, but it wasn't life-changing. Maybe he was giving it too much importance?

With a small frown, Kiba glanced up at Jesse.

The man was still looking down at him. His face now, though, read of an examination he couldn't quite pinpoint. He still looked pretty happy, all things considered- amused, really. But there was an air of thoughtfulness that clung quietly to that amusement.

"You're thinking too much, kid." as he said this, he crouched down with a sigh. He grabbed hold of the other leg plate, waving it around with a smirk. "This is just plastoid- there's nothing more to this than just doing whatever you want."

Kiba watched the stark white piece for a few seconds before he sighed, "When an Inuzuka gets their fangs, it means that they've taken on the burden of our ancestors. It's supposed to be this big and important stepping stone because we're no longer just pups- we're fully fledged warriors that are part of this huge lineage of loyalty and perseverance." he shrugged before glancing down at the paintbrush. "I don't really bother too much with thinking, so I'm not sure why this is giving me so much trouble."

The barracks were beginning to fill up with soft chatter from the rest of the troopers, the air slowly becoming more and more lighthearted. Kiba listened on to the indecipherable murmurings that began to surround them, taking some comfort in the almost relieved way the men sounded.

"It's not like this is the time to start thinking." Jesse was finding a lot of humor in this whole situation, it seemed. Kiba looked at him, pursed his lips, and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly to make sure the trooper knew how unimpressed he was with him. The guy just kept on smirking. "Hand that brush over here- I'll help you out, seeing how you're so shiny."

It was a challenge and Kiba knew it. But.

Onsei whispered from somewhere to his side an approving sigh and Kiba's hand moved of its own accord.

Jesse made himself comfortable on the ground opposite him, placing the piece of armor over his thigh with the ease of having practiced this very movement a thousand times before. He took a moment to look down at the piece before he looked Kiba from the tip of his head all the way down to his toes. Then, with a smile, he set the brush to the plastoid.

Kiba watched his steady hand glide down the full length of the piece with the steadiness of a master- of someone that had done this so many times that it wasn't just a skill, it was instinct; no longer a task that caused any form of thought, just that of feeling. It wasn't often that Kiba got to witness this level of comfort in a craft. It was mostly due to his own inability to sit still for long, sure... but it also had to do with the fact that there weren't that many masters around Konoha that were willing to deal with the likes of him.

Not like the masters he knew of practiced a craft he was interested in, though. Weapons were a tool, but Kiba had never been able to gawk at the artistry of creating them. And the other artistic pursuits around Konoha had always seemed so trivial. Art for the sake of beauty was boring to him, but the utility of art was boring as well.

This, though... this wasn't that.

Kiba just didn't know what it truly was.

As he watched the trooper work, the chatter from the rest of the troops became more and more obvious. Eventually, at one point, another of the troopers wandered over to them and settled beside Kiba to watch Jesse. It took a few seconds, but eventually he was clearing his throat to call on the scout's attention.

"Having fun there, vod?"

Jesse grunted but didn't look up as he replied with a simple, "Kriff off, Fives. Kid asked for my help."

That was a blatant lie but Kiba didn't feel like it was necessary to clear it up. He was more than happy to sit back and watch Jesse work; he could even hear the beginnings of pleased purring from the sick and tired Onsei.

Fives let out a quick chuckle before moving closer to Jesse, only to look over his shoulder at his work. "Hey, no, the kid's not that sharp. You're making it-"

"No one invited you, Fives."

The trooper with the flattop and a five tattooed on his temple glanced back at him with a spark in his eyes that made Onsei croon with joy, quiet as it was. Kiba watched as Onsei did its best to wrap around the trooper's shoulders. It took Onsei quite the effort, but it was trying its best to urge him down, over to the plastoid piece.

"Jesse's gonna have you looking ridiculous on the battlefield, kid. You should let me help."

"Touch this and I'll break your shebs." was the simple, cold, yet ultimately meaningless threat such words received.

Fives crouched down and insisted on pestering Jesse, all the while the scout did his best to continue his work while ignoring the other man. Kiba watched as this happened, slowly beginning to piece together why Onsei had told him to allow this to happen.

He watched it begin to float around the troopers, swirling around a few specific men- some that he recognized, a few he did not- before it began to urge them towards where they were. He really hoped he wasn't imagining the way in which Onsei seemed to have managed to gather some strength; hoped that he wasn't imagining how much more steady it seemed as it moved.

When the men Onsei had gone to noticed what was happening, their intrigue was immediately piqued.

"Hey, I want to paint Inuzuka's shell too!" he recognized Hardcase's voice immediately, unhinged and ever so excited. "Kid, give me the wrist gauntlets. I'm drawing an explosion." he screamed as he ran over- his voice was so loud it cut through Jesse and Fives' argument.

"Wait, no, that wouldn't make-" Jesse seemed horrified at Hardcase's suggestion. And that was the exact opening Fives needed to grab the plastoid and steal it away from him.

"That'd make more sense on the knee plates, vod." Fives shot off with the plate and Jesse shouted at him to come back at the same time he began to rise up.

"Oh, you're right." Hardcase threw himself onto his knees and slid to a stop right on top of the pile beside Kiba, beginning to scavenge for whatever it was he was looking for. "Tup, c'mere and help me add some fangs to his boots. We gotta show off that Inuzuka pride!"

Onsei was now absolutely singing as the rest of the soldiers that were interested in this came ever closer; and without a doubt, he fully understood what it had wanted to take place between the soldiers.

Painting their armor was an act that teetered between super important and completely mundane; it was something that they took with the exact kind of severity they chose to, but understood that it couldn't be the most important thing they did; couldn't be revered and treated with absolute respect. Armor was supposed to protect them, after all; was meant to be worn and destroyed so it could protect them. It wasn't art for the sake of beauty because there was a use to what they were doing. And it wasn't simply utilitarian either. It was neither; it was both at the same time.

Tup came to Hardcase's side and his bright brown eyes watched Kiba with an unspoken question; Kiba didn't even have to think before he was nodding at the pup to go ahead and take part.

He was starting to think that even if such an event wasn't revered with only the utmost respect from the soldiers, though, that there was something novel about getting to take part in the painting of the armor of someone that wasn't a brother. And this piece of novelty... after everything they had lived through... it must have been exactly what Onsei had wanted the men to experience.

"Does the kid have a utility belt? We should add some things to that." that was a voice he had heard joined by Kix's- Coric, one of the medics in the Legion. "Also, if anyone gets hurt trying to paint the kid's shell, you're not allowed in the medbay. Lick your own wounds."

No one attempted to argue with the decree.

"Not bad, kid." Rex's eyes were warm and his smile was very much amused, "A little bit asymmetrical, but it suits you."

The Commander beside him, Wolffe, scoffed at his conclusion, but didn't give his own thoughts about the way in which his pieces of armor had wound up decorated. Instead, he just sent a quick jab of his elbow into Rex's side; well, tried to. The Captain leaned towards the side and away from the elbow, basically avoiding the worst of the blow. It was with an ease and lack of thinking that it immediately struck Kiba as an instinctual movement.

Like when an Inuzuka pup went to swipe at the ankles of an caretaker and the caretaker simply lifted their foot and pressed down on the tips of the pups fingers- a benign warning learned through years of handling such behavior.

"Get to talkin', Rex, we've got things to do."

Kiba quirked an eyebrow at that, but Rex just offered a quick nod before his face was dropping all humor, taking on a severe look.

"Inuzuka, you're getting transferred to the 104th for their next mission."

Those words... as soon as he understood them... they hurt.

"What?" the question tumbled from his lips, just barely louder than a whisper.

Rex's warm eyes softened at the same time the rest of his face did. He kept up a mostly stern look on his face, but there was a hint of regret to it that Kiba could not deny- he could smell the faintest licks of it within his scent.

"The war goes on, kid, and you can't join the 501st on our next deployment. But the details have been sorted out. You're-"

"Coming with the Wolfpack." the commander interrupted, his stance widening in challenge. "Grab your kit, we're already behind schedule thanks to you."

"Wolffe."

Where Rex was radiating comfort if surrounded by a harsh yet thin layer of rigidity, Wolffe was... so much like his mother.

After spending a moment glaring at the rough commander, Rex turned back to look at him. His eyes softened noticeably as he did so, then stepped forward. He seemed to hesitate for a moment and Kiba watched on as Onsei attempted to tug him forward, urging him into action. Kiba remained standing there, watching them both, and just... waited.

Once he had seemed to come to a decision, the captain raised the hand that was not holding on to his bucket and gently placed it on Kiba's shoulder. His touch was warm; it was grounding.

Onsei exhaled heavily in what Kiba could only describe as joy, curling itself around Rex's shoulder as it radiated what comfort it could.

"You won't be in more capable hands." the smile he was offered was a reassuring one, just like the tone of Rex's voice was filled with nothing but that. "And you'll be around to see the men again after you've earned your stripes with the Wolfpack."

The vents in this giant venator were notably cleaner than the ones in the Resolute.

Undoubtedly, it had something to do with the clone trooper he had just come across.

"So... hi?"

Kiba blinked a few times, just to make sure that his eyes really were seeing what they were seeing and his mind was not playing any mean tricks on him. Once he was sure that he was, in fact, able to see a clone trooper clad in only blacks sequestered away in the meeting point of four different vents with a stack of datapads beside him, he nodded back.

"Didn't think I'd find anyone up here." he mumbled as he settled where he had been looming over for the past few seconds. The vents were spacious enough for him to do so without straining too hard. "Whatcha doing?"

The man had short and bright blonde hair and eyebrows- very distinct from the color he had come to know was most common in all of the troopers. Even the eyebrows? That was dedication. Or genetics. He really didn't know.

"Just..." the man's answer came slow, seemingly thinking hard about what he was about to say. "Enjoying candy far away from where any brother can try and steal it." with this, he shook at the bag of candy that was clear in Kiba's point of view, resting against the thigh he could see. "You?"

He crossed his legs as he cocked his head at the bag of candy then took a moment to properly sniff at the air in the vents. That definitely explained the sweet tang that he had come across, at least. But it smelled so subtly of sweetness- it was definitely some kind of food he had never sniffed before. And not as sweet as the kind of sweets he had enjoyed back home.

"Supposed to be hidin' away from the General and didn't feel like being holed up in the Commander's room." he hadn't been directly ordered to stick around Wolffe's individual quarters, after all, which meant that no one could scold him for being up here. As long as he didn't get caught by the General, everything should be fine. "Name's Kiba, by the way. You can call me Inuzuka, though. I don't have a rank higher than infantry soldier, I think."

The trooper's soft eyes widened somewhat as he registered the name; then a loose smile was coming over his face, "The not-Commander, right." he nodded slowly, voice ringing with recognition. "Good to meet you, then. You can call me Sinker."

"Sweet."

Silence pressed over them at this, making Kiba fidget somewhat. The trooper kept on looking at him for a few seconds longer before he pushed the bag of candy over to him, nudging at it with that kind smile still on his lips. "If you don't tell, I won't either."

He looked down at the bag that was being offered to him, simple and unassuming in the way it looked. Then he glanced at the trooper once again, only to find him nod with reassurance.

Onsei chirped around them, urging him to accept.

"My lips are sealed." he promised before reaching over to grab the bag.

"Not supposed to be up here, you know. Much less doing this." the trooper waved the pad around, tone taking on a pointed edge.

Kiba looked at it, at the video he had been watching over, and couldn't help but wonder why that was something that wouldn't be allowed. The men's buckets had the capacity to record audio and video for a reason, after all. What was the point of wasting technology on that particularity if they couldn't get anything out of it?

Still, Onsei was whispering little assurances to ears that would never hear it, so he offered up what he knew the clone could hear, "Well, it's a good thing my lips are sealed."

Sinker's lips formed into a loose smile before he sighed quickly and shook his head. Then his attention was fully focused back on the pad in his hands, the screen still turned at an angle that they both could look at, even if it meant a bit of discomfort for them both.

"Usually, us clones are only allowed to watch over the recordings our helmets take when it's footage from the battlefield. It's only supposed to be used to learn where we failed and how to do better next time." Sinker, he had come to learn, was incredibly talkative. He didn't have to ask if something made him curious- he just had to show some interest in it and eventually the trooper would tell him about it. "Seeing how we're not here right now, I see no issue in letting you see the kind of osik these di'kuts get up to when there're no natborns around."

"Not like I'll have ever seen it, after all." it was the first inside joke he had come to share with a clone trooper- the first one he had managed to stumble onto since he and his mother had packed up to join the war effort. It was nice to have something like this again.

The video that began to play had been taken from the camera on one of Wolffe's own men's helmets, clear from the Wolfpack markings on all of the people in the footage. What was supposed to have been a training session at the gun range had quickly devolved into what Kiba could only truly describe as a slap-fighting brawl.

The audio in the footage wasn't the best and Kiba had to tap into Onsei's wisdom to be able to make some of it out- which meant that if he really was going to be using this for his grand scheme, he'd need to go through the trouble of adding text so others could understand what he could hear. With Onsei's help, he had been able to piece together what had caused the troopers to devolve into a pile of half-hearted threats and full forced attacks. And if he hadn't spent long enough around the 501st to have learned how truly Inuzuka these men were, he would have been stupefied by what he had heard; but he had learn this lesson and so was only marginally caught off guard.

Which of their commanding officer's was the best.

That was the topic that had set off the brawl between the brothers.

It was exactly the kind of argument he'd gotten into with Naruto and Ino back in his genin days- which of their jounin sensei was the best of their bunch. And, much like with the troops, that argument had wound up in a brawl that had wound up with no winners, only three losers that had needed to spend a full weekend re-planting the shrubbery they had ruined when their fight had spilled onto Nara territory.

There was a sharp yowl, followed by a horrified "Did you just bite me?!" and Kiba felt Onsei sigh heavily as it settled across his shoulders.

It was enjoying the show.

Kiba smiled softly at this before he looked at Sinker once more, "This is perfect."

Sinker had been smiling down at the pad, undoubtedly enjoying the show too. But when he turned back to look at Kiba, that smile dampened. "Are you sure?"

Uncharacteristically, Sinker didn't clarify what he meant. Kiba didn't need him to, though.

"If anything goes wrong, it'll all come back to Konoha." he assured the trooper, "I've got the logistics figured out."

He didn't, not really. And he probably never would, even if he dedicated his whole life to trying to understand that kind of technology. But Inuzuka weren't renown for their brutish nature for nothing and he had wracked up enough favors with Shika through taking on hard-work the Nara hadn't wanted to do to have earned the guy's cooperation.

And he hadn't even needed to strong-arm the guy into helping out... it was actually weird how willing Shikamaru had been to hear him out and help him with all of the preparations necessary for what he wanted to do.

Onsei trilled in his ear, a soft, crooning noise, and that definitely explained it.

Onsei happened.

"If you don't want to help, though, you don't have to." he continued after he witnessed the way in which Sinker's lips pressed into the beginnings of a thin line. "You don't even have to give me this."

While Shikamaru was going to work on the technological part of this plan, Kiba was tasked with an equally important role- evidence gathering. He needed to get the footage that would eventually get broadcasted; without that, there was no plan. It was important, he knew; a cornerstone. But... he wasn't going to force anyone to help him that didn't want to.

Sinker's eyebrows narrowed for a moment, but soon his face softened and he closed his eyes before he dropped his head back to rest against the wall he was pressed against.

"You're an odd one for a natborn." he eventually admitted, wonder underlining his voice. "And the General's more than odd enough."

Onsei yawned with slight humor at the observation and Kiba couldn't help but smile as well. "You know, we Inuzuka are considered oddballs back home."

"Really?" the amusement was back in Sinker's voice, humored sarcasm painting his words, "I never would have guessed that."

Sinker would probably never tell him what his moment of sobriety had been all about. Kiba found that he wouldn't really mind to never be told, either. What really mattered was that, at the end of the day, Sinker seemed to trust him enough to hand this footage over. And when the datapad was offered up, it was done with a small smile playing on Sinker's lips and a spark of something good in his eyes.