Shin was busy.

The Spring Session was wrapping up, but his work was never finished—there was the official unofficial peacetime celebration to think about, and the Daimyo's not-so-secret gambling (he'd grown bored, unfortunately, of Shin's careful curation of his vice; Jiraiya had been no small part of that, and Shin would never forgive his former mentor), and everything to do with the former Water territories—

He sighed, marking the latest work from one of his many protégés. Things had been so much easier when he was a child.

He still remembered, with far too much nostalgia, sitting half-asleep in class with his team, all three of them buried in their notebooks (him with his stories, Juro with his medical texts, and Sakura with her languages).

He still remembered sitting in the cool autumn air in that small training ground with their friends, sticking leaves to his arms and laughing as his more athletically-minded friends attempted to show off.

He still remembered before the fighting. He knew, of course, that the first two wars had dominated the time before his birth—wars, and even the not-war-wars that killed just as many as the real thing, weren't new—but that had been such a long period of peace, and people had talked as if this would be life (and hadn't that been such a lie?!).

And now—

Now he was the 'grown up'.

He was twenty-eight, now, the age his parents were when he was born.

He was twenty-eight, and his mother was writing him letters about settling down, having children.

'Sakura already has a child!' (So did he and Juro; they all raised him! Sakura didn't get all the credit just because they raised him in the Yamanaka compound!)

'Juro is getting married!' (To a Capital civilian, and his mother would be so, so pissed if he did the same thing, but for some reason it was okay when Juro did it?)

'Look at your older sister!' (She was a full decade older! And yeah, she had children younger than he could, but she also had triplets, with her long-term boyfriend, who she started dating when they were ten. Shin hadn't even been born yet when they got together!)

And—

Like, Shin was okay with having more children.

Didn't mind it; had babysat a lot as a kid.

Just…

Didn't care that much.

Wasn't in a rush.

Was just—

Just—

Busy.

He finished with the essays he'd assigned, set them aside.

He closed his eyes for just a moment, tried to give himself a break.

And then he stood up, because he had shit to do and he couldn't spend that long sitting around uselessly.

(Ideally, no one would know his name.

(Know what he had done for Konoha.

(Ideally, he would be just one more Nara.

(Ideally, Konoha would still be around thanks to everything that would have to remain unsaid.

(All Shin had to do was be perfect.)

.

Yahiko's eyes darted around the crowd as everyone moved in every direction.

Probably, really, he should have chosen another target (T&I entrances were unmarked and many, and their staff were trained not to come and go in any set way), but Morino Ibiki was… uniquely positioned.

And Yahiko, as manipulative as it sounded, wanted to take advantage of that.

And while T&I worked hard to spread around its employees, and the entrances and exits they used, every employee had a home.

The Yamanaka Compound had twelve entrances.

This was the busiest.

All Yahiko had to do was get lucky.

And now, three days into his hunt, he was.

"Hello!"

"Hi?"

"I'm Yahiko, an Academy student!"

"Sure, I guess I've seen you around."

Not as warm a reception as he'd hoped for, but that was probably because of his non-Fire accent.

(They pretended, but Yahiko knew better: Konoha was just as scummy as everywhere else.)

"I was hoping I could ask you a few questions!"

"It depends what the questions are about."

Even as he said it, though, he kept walking, kept heading straight to the compound gates.

Yahiko's next sentence went all in a rush. "I was wondering if you could answer some questions I had about Konoha politics, specifically how it works with people like you who are sort-of half-in-half-out—"

They'd arrived at the gate.

Yahiko stalled as Morino Ibiki continued on.

Bastard.

"You coming?"

"What?"

"Are you coming?"

"I can't; this is the Yamanaka Compound."

Morino Ibiki blinked. "And?"

"It's… it's not the same, is it? You can't enter compounds."

"I mean, not without permission, but most clans are pretty loose with what they consider 'permission'. You're walking with me, so you're okay."

That… did not track with some of Yahiko's assumptions.

"So you really are willing to answer my questions?" Because Yahiko was sure he could find someone else, but Morino Ibiki was born a no-name, became an orphan, had access to Ino-Shika-Cho, was raised by Yamanaka Sakura the Researcher, and was best friends with the youngest son of the former Hokage, and that made him the best possible option.

"Yeah, sure," Morino Ibiki said. "It's fine. I'll make tea."

Yahiko took a breath, stepped over the threshold.

Nothing happened.

The Yamanaka in sight didn't even blink.

…huh.

.

Rento woke up in a sweat.

He knew the stress was getting to him. He wasn't an idiot; the symptoms were obvious.

Nausea, headaches, sweats, rapid heartbeat…

But his sister was suffering worse.

And the thing was, he was a sealer.

Not only that, but he was probably one of the most proficient human-sealers in Konoha—other than the Sannin Jiraiya and the Hokage himself, of course.

(Secretly, Rento suspected he was better than Jiraiya. Not the Hokage—the few conversations he'd had with his leader made it very clear the man was an actual savant—but Jiraiya… Rento didn't think the man sealed that often anymore; and if you weren't using the skill, you were losing it.

(Rento, comparatively, was constantly studying, constantly practicing, constantly asking questions and learning and improving his skills. There wasn't a day that he didn't look at a seal; and for all that he physically suffered, his devotion had quickly made him stand out from his peers.

(He'd never say such out loud, of course.)

In theory, Rento could save his sister and their other mind-walking relatives from at least some of their labor.

In theory.

In practice… in practice, Rento was stuck.

He'd had so many ideas, when he'd started.

So, so many ideas.

And then, one by one, he'd eliminated them.

He hadn't even gotten to human trials, yet! Hadn't even gotten to animal trials! All he'd managed was to discover that anything to do with the brain was much, much more difficult than he'd expected!

He didn't know what to do.

Didn't know next steps.

Had to do better, but had no idea how.

…He needed to get out of his own head.

Outside the compound, preparations were already being made for the celebration of the alliance. It would be too late in the year to really take advantage of the sakura trees, but Konoha was always rife with plant life and now all sorts of flowers were being planted in window boxes and planters and just about anywhere else they could fit. (Rento's cousin Kaede was allergic to pollen. Rento wondered how he was coping.)

People were at work on the road, too, plying up stones that had begun to tilt at one angle or another and re-laying them so that they were perfectly flat, so that you could run at top speed blindfolded and still not trip.

A group of children were screaming in excitement as some firemen used their more advanced water-jutsu techniques to spray down walls, remove any dirt or grime that might have built up over time.

Another group of children trooped amiably after an older man, each carrying various cleaning supplies while they walked from one sewage drain to the next.

Life, such as it was, was in full swing.

Rento shivered.

Eventually he'd made it to the edge of the village, into the training grounds.

He kept going.

Made it to the gates, then past the gates, then to the farms.

He didn't know where he was going.

It had been… years, probably, since he'd left Konoha. There hadn't been any point: Rento's friends, family, work, romantic interests—everything was in Konohagakure, and so even going this far—

The air stank; he'd arrived at a barn full of cattle, taking a rest away from the beating pulse of the sun. Flies swarmed and Rento watched as their tails flicked, flicked, flicked.

Later, the tree line was less interrupted by human pursuits. He kept on the path and quickly lost sight of anything but trees, but bushes, but the soft sort of background noise of the forest.

It wasn't like the Nara forest, not really.

The Nara forest was—

Wilder, if anything.

No hard-trodden paths.

No remnants of old campfires, no used bandages left behind (the Nara always picked up after themselves).

Rento turned right.

Animals avoided him as he approached, birds flitting away to higher perches and squirrels and chipmunks darting out of sight.

He'd been walking for some time, now, but he didn't know how long, and his mind had finally started to clear.

There was no easy solution to his troubles, but that was okay; it had been optimistic at best to expect any kind of quick fix.

That didn't mean that there wasn't a fix, though.

His path curved inward.

He needed to ask for help, and he was always surprised by how much his aunt (who had never once submitted a human seal) knew about his discipline. He'd talk to her, because talking to someone who actually understood what he was trying to do (and the many reasons it hadn't been done before) seemed like the sort of thing he should've done a long time ago.

There were no easy answers, but that didn't mean there weren't answers.

Rento saw the edge of Konoha's farmland and smiled.

.

Kurenai swallowed against the dryness in her throat, hesitating outside the door for just a moment before plunging in.

Asahi met her eyes for just a moment, just enough to know who had entered, before looking away.

Kurenai swallowed.

"How are you?"

Asahi snorted, didn't answer.

"I'm… I'm sorry it took so long for me to come see you." He'd cut his hair, since she'd last seen him. It looked wrong. "I came as soon as I could." She desperately didn't want to offend.

"Oh, yeah. So important to visit the invalid."

She'd failed.

"Asahi…"

"You can just leave, you know. I'm fine."

Kurenai sat down instead, giving up on catching her former teammate's eye.

"I'm thinking of getting a haircut," she offered.

That got his attention. "No you aren't. You love your hair!"

"Yeah, but it gets in the way when I'm fighting."

"That's been true since the Academy. You've always found ways around it."

Kurenai couldn't disagree, but— "It's different now," she said.

"How so?"

"I mean, I'm on the frontline—"

"You were so bound and determined to keep your hair, what changed?"

The tables had turned.

He was looking at her, and she wished he wasn't.

"Everybody's been telling me—"

"Everybody." Asahi snorted. "You know, I know I was stupid to stop eating. It's just—after, you know, the train… I just, I spiraled a bit. Felt—I dunno. Like I should have done better, as team leader. And it was—stupid. And I know that now, and I'm eating now, and I have probably tanked my chances of getting a leadership role ever again but what can you do? I'm at least not 'engaging in unhealthy self-punishment techniques' anymore, and I am learning healthy coping techniques to deal with my 'internal pressure', and so everybody needs to just calm down about me." Kurenai wanted to say something about that, argue with that, but before she could Asahi continued, "Especially when they're ignoring their own problems in real time. We all deal with pressure differently, but do you really think bending to social pressure is right? That external pressure is any more healthy than internal pressure?"

"I'm not—" Kurenai stopped. Swallowed. "They have a point, don't they?"

"You were pretty damn efficient the last time I saw you fighting. Look, if you want to cut your hair, cut your hair. If not… well, you've already put a lot of time into learning how to fight like that. I'm sure you can keep it up."

Kurenai rolled her neck. "I'll think about it." She hesitated. "Want to… play go?"

"Not on your life. Do you have a card deck? Let's gamble."

Kurenai snorted, but pulled out a deck obligingly. "Not as fun with only two people, but we'll make do."

"Exactly."