After what was possibly the longest hour of my life, Biwa-sensei staggered into view, leaning heavily against his clone. I think I cried in relief at the sight, though the details were a little hazy.

I was so scared. I thought my sensei was going to die hating me. I thought it would be my fault. I had hesitated. A list of Kakuzu's abilities and weaknesses was on the tip of my tongue, but I spent a split-second too long trying to figure out how I could rationalize coming across that information before I realized that it didn't matter. I didn't care about the repercussions. Sensei's life was far more important.

But it was too late. He was gone, off to fight a century-old legend of the shinobi world blind. Kakuzu was the boogeyman. He survived a death match with the God of Shinobi. He had to be killed five times for it to stick. I knew Biwa-sensei was considered to be S-rank as well, but holy shit. Kakashi was (debatably) S-rank too, and he still needed prep time and comprehensive knowledge of his skills to eke out a still-difficult win.

Not to mention Naruto's deus ex machina protagonist powers. Kakuzu was a big deal. And my own fucking sensei beat him.

I think? He survived, at least.

But the closer he came, the more battered he appeared. This was no low-diff battle. The brilliant flashes we could all see clearly through the night sky, and the thunderous booms that echoed off the mountain were a testament to that on their own, but fuck. I've never seen Biwa-sensei winded before, much less hurt to such an extreme. Even against the full might of Suna's renowned Puppet Corps he barely broke a sweat.

I wanted to speak to him. To beg forgiveness for everything I did and everything I didn't. To ask if Kakuzu was still alive. I didn't get the chance. Endo-sensei escorted him away from prying eyes, no doubt to provide medical attention. Leaving us three rattled and entirely ill at ease.

We had been in the midst of a party. Celebrating our incredible victory against all odds. To go from that to extreme anxiety in a matter of moments…it was jarring to say the least.

Our plan was to leave the following morning, but clearly that was no longer an option. We stayed for another two days, and Biwa-sensei didn't leave the throne room for that entire stretch of time. Only Endo-sensei's occasional reassurance let us know that he was, in fact, alive and recovering. None of us wanted to celebrate, lest we summon another S-rank missing nin.

When Biwa-sensei finally emerged from his cave, he was alone. His fission clone was gone; I wasn't sure if it was reassimilated or just fucked off somewhere else. Either way, the remaining Biwa-sensei wasn't pleasant company. Every sentence was short, and we soon learned not to express concern in any fashion, even though it was clearly warranted.

At least the circumstances made it so that he wasn't as pissed about the Jashinist's request for a return mission, like he definitely would have been otherwise. Specifically because the Jashinists had wagons, and I don't think he could travel on his own two feet for long, much less run at any reasonable pace. I doubted his pride would have allowed him to lean on us in any sense either. He spent the journey under their canopies, or sometimes laying on top of them so he could take in our surroundings better. The rest of us were more than capable of keeping an eye out, but I think it brought him some comfort to inspect our surroundings personally.

Wasps came and went over the course of the journey. Some were large, carrying boxes full of what I could only assume were medical supplies. I supposed that was a significant fringe-benefit of having summons; anything could be delivered with enough notice.

He always secluded himself inside the wagons for treatment, but under the occasionally bright Land of Swamps sun, I could see a silhouette through the stretched, translucent leather. I gathered that his greatest injury was to his side, right outside his heart. How a blow like that from another S-rank ninja didn't kill him, I had no idea. I could only assume that some bored kami granted him a miracle.

Thankfully, there wasn't a single bit of excitement on our return journey. With the mood I was in, I would pity any bandit that tried me. I passed the time training with Endo-sensei, trying to ensure I could encounter an enemy sensor under disguise without being immediately identified by my weird chakra. When she lost patience with me, I worked on my liquid port seals, using scummy pond water for my experiments. It took me almost no time at all to realize that, like most projects, it would be significantly more difficult than I first considered.

Transporting liquid was a whole different ball game from solids. Which I supposed was in line with my theory of there being a storage dimension; if water was sealed away to another place, it would splash on the "ground" and splatter in every direction. If chakra could latch onto it again at all, I imagined it would only bring back a few molecules at a time, since liquids lacked strong molecular forces to drag the rest of the mass with them.

My solution was to create a tank, which would summon itself inside and out of another tank, leaving behind its contents. It was far more convoluted of a solution than I anticipated, and I was still trying to devise a way to remove the intermediary tank without taking its contents with it. I'd probably need an entirely separate seal mechanism to do it, but I'd wait for Atsuchi's advice on the subject before I wasted any more time.

I wouldn't have anything to give the Jashinists for their immediate return to River like I hoped, but perhaps the Tsuchikage would assign a delivery side mission to anyone who was already headed in that direction.

We were received by an Iwagakure contingent as soon as we crossed into Earth country. It was almost ceremonial how Biwa-sensei was transferred from the awaiting palanquin, which was probably the point. No one from Iwa would appreciate seeing one of their strongest brought low, no matter how the opponent. It was bad for morale.

Instead, they'd hide in plain sight. The visit of a foreign noble would catch the eye, but be forgotten about in no time at all. And, I'm sure the carriers were secretly Red Ogres. I had no doubt he would already be receiving treatment at a secure hospital long before we reached Iwagakure's gate.

Which took another day and the next morning, with our present company. It was a relief when the familiar burgundy banners came into view.

"It's good to be home," I mumbled to Daigo, who agreed with a solemn nod. These past couple of weeks had been…a lot. I was so excited to sleep in my own bed.

But first things first.

"You'll be staying in Iwa for a bit, then," I said to Makishi.

"Yes. It will take some time to make an arrangement with your administration. There might be some…complications based on the circumstances."

Yeah, I could foresee some complications myself. The missions desk usually demanded payment for escorts up front, and the Jashinists already owed us money for the return trip. But I was sure that they would be willing to arrange something for such clearly wealthy clientele.

"Even with sensei…preoccupied, I doubt I will still be free of obligations," I said, only privately admitting that most of those obligations were ones I put on myself. I had learned a lot in Sōgen no Kuni, and I was anxious to start putting everything into practice.

"There's no telling if I'll be able to see you off, so I best say my goodbyes now."

There was a slight clamor at the declaration, especially by the women. I knew I had conned them into liking me, but not to this extent. Rika fucking cried as she hugged me. It actually made me feel a little bad.

Iwao elicited a similar reaction, which I was glad to see since he actually deserved it far more than I did. He'd been concerned for the Jashinists from day one, whereas I kinda resented them on principle for their proselytizing, even before I learned what exactly it was they worshipped.

They didn't give a fuck about Daigo. The best he received was a polite smile.

"If you're ever in River Country, please seek out our church," Makishi whispered in my ear as he bent down for a gentle embrace. "So we can properly show our gratitude for all you've done for us throughout our time together."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, a little uncomfortably. "I hardly did anything."

"Nonsense. You honored our practices and showed interest in our religion. Not many we encounter offer the same respect, and your open-mindedness has touched all our hearts. Then, when we were at our lowest, you offered us counsel, and shared truths with us that were difficult for us to grasp with patience befitting of one many times your age. We learned so much from you."

I wasn't really sure how to respond to that. Most of what he listed, I did to manipulate them. The rest was more out of compassion for the people they would harass and antagonize in the future than the Jashinists themselves. The only true kindness I showed them—my decision to better educate them rather than throwing them to the wolves—was done out of pity. They just seemed so damn helpless. It would have been in bad taste to let them make asses out of themselves before someone inevitably lost patience and offed them.

"You hold a vast appreciation for life and death," he continued. That one I could agree with. I believed that every life had value, which wasn't an opinion that most people in the Elemental Nation shared. And having died myself, I could see the beauty of death better than anyone else as well.

"You are also a devout student of chakra. I believe you could learn a lot about the relationship between those two topics from our high worship leader. He was once a ninja like yourself, hailing from the Hidden Hot Spring Village, and has been applying Kajiya Yosephu's teachings to his own studies for decades now. Those practices are typically kept secret from those outside of our church, but I can be quite convincing. Truthfully, I think he's very eager to impart his teachings on someone who will understand them, but none of us can, and not for a lack of trying. Those few of us with bodies suited for chakra use can't understand such complex topics."

"...I see," I said, not really seeing at all but imagining plenty. Yugakure. That was where Hidan was from, wasn't it? The high worship leader couldn't be him. I recall Hidan didn't truly become a serial killer until his Hidden Village was functionally disbanded. It still existed at this present time. Actually, I'm fairly certain Hidan hasn't even been born yet. Despite his hair color, he wasn't that old. And according to Makishi, the High Worship Leader has been around for quite a while now.

Still, I couldn't imagine the connecting thread between them was a coincidence. Therefore, my gut-reaction to Makishi's offer was a resounding fuck no. But another part of me was morbidly curious.

The relationship between death and chakra? What could that mean?

"If I'm in the area and I can spare some time," I decided. It wasn't a guarantee. I would have plenty of time to think on it. I probably won't be going anywhere near River any time soon.

With that little offer dropped, it was finally socially acceptable for us to bounce. Endo-sensei had already dipped the moment my back was turned without even a word of goodbye, but we still had to check in with the mission desk to announce our return. Plus, it's been a while since our climactic fight with Nomo Hideo, and our storage scrolls wouldn't keep things fresh forever. I pitied whoever would have to verify the identities of the chunin we killed even earlier than that.

Since we spent the last few days moving at a snail's pace, we all had plenty of opportunities to draft our mission report ahead of time. Good thing, too; it would have taken a long ass time to write a comprehensive description of everything we got up to in Sōgen no Kuni. We submitted it, and answered the client survey.

Then we had a quick medical checkup. It was more comprehensive than the ones we usually received, as Steppes and the Swamps were both classified as disease risk nations. They took our blood and screened it; no issues on that front. Our field treatments were also examined. Both Iwao and I had required stitches in some form or another, though nothing serious. We were judged to be free of infection.

Once the formalities were over, we booked it to the bounty office, all of us eager to get this over with so we could see our loved ones. The nondescript, nearly windowless building was close to the Tsuchikage's palace, and reminded me of the many spartan military installations I'd set foot in over the course of my past life.

We walked in, finding the place empty except for staff. We wouldn't have to wait in line—cool. I let Iwao do the talking, as usual. Even after a long exhausting week, he was as charming as could be.

"First, five D-rank bounties," he said, and the teller was already taken aback by the sheer number as Daigo obligingly began feeding the scrolls through the gap in the glass partition one at a time. It was kinda like a bank, which made sense. They would be distributing a fair amount of money.

"Six C-ranks as well," Iwao continued once all of them were through.

"I see," the teller said, clearly not seeing at all as there was a scramble of activity behind him. Several workers had begun unsealing the scrolls' contents to begin the verification process.

"And who else should I list in the credits?"

Any claimed bounty would go into our permanent files. It was a mark of prestige; every higher up who was inclined to look would see our accomplishments.

"No one," Iwao answered pleasantly. "Our accompanying jonin played no role in the collection of these heads. They have their own, of course; I expect they'll come to redeem them soon. If they care to."

I somehow doubted either of them were concerned with the money or the reputation. For Biwa-sensei, at least, it would be a drop in the bucket on both counts. And I couldn't imagine that Endo-sensei had many expenses. I could see it in her eyes: her job was her life.

"And finally, we have one B-rank bounty." I declared, handing over my prized scroll. The room got very quiet. "And yes, my teammate's statement still applies."

"C'mon, kid," another voice spoke up from behind the teller. "You can't expect us to believe that three genin collected a B-rank bounty with no jonin intervention. You know lying about this kind of thing will have severe consequences, right?"

"That's exactly what I expect you to believe," I replied, as Iwao sighed at my belligerence. But I really wanted to go home.

"It is detailed in our mission's report. We have two respected jonin as witnesses. Feel free to check in with them, or with the Tsuchikage's office. He is very, very aware. If you wish to give us our reward another time, once you verify our statement, that is understandable."

There. That was reasonable, right?

"Very well," the teller said, finally. "You'll get the cash reward now regardless; we always pay the person who turns the heads in, regardless if they defeated the missing nin in question personally."

I already knew that, of course. Bounty hunters turned in heads they didn't directly earn all the time: sometimes they were traded, sometimes they were stolen. For ninja, that was kinda the name of the game. Besides, there was no way to know who dealt the killing blow anyway, so policing the system in that way would be an effort in futility.

"Return here tomorrow. If the situation is as you claim, we will issue Merits, and add the records to your file."

"Great," I said, flatly. "I have another B-rank bounty to deliver too, but this one is different. I didn't defeat the person in question, but the head was given to me as payment for work I've done tangentially related to the mission. It should not be listed in my file as my own kill. I'm being fully transparent so this doesn't come back to bite me. Whether or not I receive Merits will be up to your department's judgement, and I will accept whatever decision you reach."

"We haven't encountered that situation under the new system," the teller said. "We will have to confer with our department head. Regarding the cash, would you like it up front or directly deposited into your accounts?"

We all chose the latter, and we all left the office significantly richer. Me even more so than my teammates, because I didn't share the bounty Haruto gifted me. As we left, I heard raised voices.

"Is that fucking Nomo Hideo?"

I snickered, but let the door close before we could be accosted. The rumor mills will love this one. If the mission office staff didn't blab, these guys sure would.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

The three of us split up with little fanfare, and I walked through familiar streets with a smile on my face. It was so good to be back.

I stopped at a Yakitori cart on the side of the road and tore into some teriyaki-glazed skewers with relish. Probably not above board, by my twenty-first century standards, but I trusted my chakra to keep me safe. The taste was worth it; I haven't had fresh meat since I left Iwagakure. I couldn't wait to indulge in some other creature comforts. Bath house and massage, in that order.

But first, nii-san. He was almost definitely at work, but that was clear across the village and I wanted to sit down on my own damn couch for a bit and give Akane-obasan a kiss on the cheek. Which would probably turn into an hour long chatter fest, but honestly I'd gotten used to that over my time with the Jashinists.

I stepped towards my front door, but before I could bring the key to the lock, I paused. The soundproofing in the house was decent, but I could still hear noises from inside. Did Kazuhiro take the day off?

Not fucking likely. I tested the door, and found that the knob turned easily. Unlocked. I opened it a crack to look at the shoe cubby. Kazuhiro's were missing, and I couldn't see Akane-obasan's weren't present either.

Were we being robbed?

Silently, I crept through the doorway, pausing to consider the only pair of sandals I didn't recognize. I doubted a home invader would care about etiquette, but still. The few friends Kazuhiro had wouldn't be here without him present.

And they certainly wouldn't be humming.

I rounded the corner to the kitchen, where I began to hear the sizzling of oil over the soft voice. The fragrant smell of frying shallots and garlic began to waft through the air. Utterly flummoxed, I leaned against the wall, arms crossed as I took in the sight before me.

It was a woman. A young, very attractive woman, with cascading, wavy brown hair and tan, unblemished skin. She looked a little familiar, but I couldn't place where I'd seen her before.

Another relevant detail. She wasn't wearing any pants. Scratch that—she wasn't wearing any underwear either. Saw that for myself when she reached into a higher cabinet and her shirt—Kazuhiro's shirt—hiked up a little.

The moment I made that connection, I forced myself to stop enjoying the show.

"Watcha makin'?"

The woman screamed so loud I clasped my hands over my ears. Good thing I had the sense to wait until she stepped away from the hot oil; that could have been bad.

"Imai-san!" she gasped, hand over her heart. "I didn't—you're here! We didn't expect…oh, Kami."

"Ma, ma, relax," I said, smirking as I cast an appraising eye over her. She gave a little squeak, realizing her state of dress, or lack thereof. Her hands fluttered nervously, as if unsure of what to cover.

"Have we met before?" I asked, because she did seem familiar. Recognized my face and knew my name too, even though I didn't have the same one as Kazuhiro.

"Yes, we…my name is Yokoda Kiyomi," she said, breathlessly. "I was a nurse, helping you with your…dental operation."

Ah, right. That day was a blur. I'd forgotten about the cute nurse who talked me through the discomfort, distracting me with one-sided conversation. If I recall, Kazuhiro was actually the subject of some of them. I hadn't realized they were still in contact, much less that he'd made a move.

"Gonna be honest, I don't really remember much about that," I admitted. If not for chakra sharpening my memory and other brain functions, I probably would have repressed and forgotten about it entirely.

"But hey, thanks for all your help back then. I probably wasn't lucid enough to say so after the operation."

"I was just doing my job," she said, robotically. "It was my pleasure…I'm sorry, this was the last way I wanted to meet you, officially."

Whoa, was this serious?

"So you considered pantsless in our kitchen a possibility?" I asked with a smirk, and she let out a cute little whimper that I liked a little too much.

Okay, calm down. Stop. She's your brother's.

Kami, I seriously can't wait for this body to mature to the point that I can hook up with people. This fucking sucked.

"I'm sorry, I'm just teasing you," I said. "Truthfully, I'm just as taken aback by this as you are."

I just wasn't nearly as self-conscious as Kiyomi. Plus, I wasn't the one meeting my significant other's only family mostly undressed. Actually, meeting a significant other's family wasn't an experience I could boast from my past life at all. I wasn't exactly the kind of girl you'd bring home to meet your parents.

"I didn't know Kazuhiro was seeing anyone. Actually, I didn't even consider that he'd be able to nab a girlfriend at all."

"Kazuhiro-san is lovely!" She defended in an instant. "He's charming, kind, determined. He has a great sense of humor."

Good. First test, passed.

"I'm not saying he isn't a catch," I placated. "He's just a little—a lot—awkward."

She chuckled daintily into her hand.

"Perhaps at first," she admitted. "He was a little clueless about my interest. He told me he didn't realize I was flirting until one of my coworkers spelled it out for him."

"Well, he is a man," I said dryly, earning another giggle. I considered the situation for a minute, then came to a decision.

"I was going to go to the bath houses. Come spend the day with me," I stated, and she looked up with startled eyes.

"Oh, er, I don't know, Imai-san," she waffled. "It sounds lovely, but..."

"Don't be shy," I said with a grin, pointedly looking at her legs. "I might as well see the rest of you."

She squeaked at the reminder.

"No, I just meant…I already started dinner."

It was barely past one. Her planned meal must be very involved. Also, the clothing situation painted quite the picture. If I came home to find my hot girlfriend making dinner with nothing but my own shirt on…let's just say the food would be ice cold before we ever started eating.

"Dinner…and then a dessert later, right?" I asked coyly.

"Imai-san," she pleaded, in a voice that had a very significant effect on me.

She's Kazuhiro's. She's Kazuhiro's. She's Kazuhiro's.

I needed to stop thinking about my potential sister-in-law that way. Clearly, they were both considering future plans if they had spoken about introducing her to me.

"I'm sorry to say, this evening probably won't go the way you were hoping it would anyway," I said apologetically. I could live with cockblocking a stranger, but I'd definitely have to make it up to my brother.

"Why don't you throw some rice on that, and fry it up with some egg," I said, nodding at the sizzling wok. "He can take it to work for lunch tomorrow, and we can get takeout for tonight."

I grinned.

"And tomorrow…well, I'll make myself scarce."

Obviously, the food wasn't the issue. She was terrified of spending a significant amount of time with me without Kazuhiro as a buffer.

Well, tough. Kiyomi seemed great, and she definitely passed in the looks department. But, while I wouldn't give a fuck if this was a casual fling, I had to make sure this relationship had longevity.

Frankly, I cared a lot more about Kazuhiro than I did my last brother. Kazuhiro might be able to kick Ian's ass to Neptune with his ninja magic bullshit powers, but he was far more sensitive emotionally. I didn't want to see him hurt.

"You're not getting out of this!" I sang, gleefully, all traces of exhaustion fleeing. This was far more important.

"But first, put some pants on."

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

It took a couple hours, but Kiyomi slowly began to grow comfortable with my presence despite her initial reluctance. I could probably give credit to the baths; hot water did a wonder for nerves.

I learned a lot about her. Despite her skills with medical ninjutsu, Kiyomi wasn't actually a ninja. She was strictly a healer, and learned first aid by necessity during the war at an impressive eleven years old. She was all but conscripted to work at Iwagakure's hospital, where she unexpectedly thrived in the fast-paced, grim environment, earning the attention of my old doctor, Tsuneo-sensei.

Due to her skills, work ethic, youth and good health, she was given the opportunity to learn to use chakra, and eventually medical ninjutsu, which she took to with ease. Though Kiyomi was humble (a little too humble in my opinion), I got the sense that she was actually a pretty big deal.

Since we were in public, we couldn't really discuss this sort of thing, but she was one of Kazuhiro's attending nurses during and after his surgery. In fact, she was one of the people called that one terrifying night, when Kazuhiro's chakra blockage almost took his life. Something that I professed my everlasting gratitude for, even though I was far too distracted to pay anyone there aside from the head surgeon any mind. That alone spoke volumes to both her skill, and the amount of trust Iwagakure placed on her.

Pretty cool, right? I liked that she was skilled, and I liked that she was informed on my nii-san's unusual health needs. If he was injured in the field, it felt good to have someone like her close to him who could balance extreme motivation with professionalism. Someone who could do what I couldn't. Medical jutsu would probably be beyond my capabilities forever.

But all that meant little if they weren't a good fit. I didn't really start judging Kiyomi on that until she loosened up, and her real personality began to shine through the cracks. I couldn't imagine that a medic forged in the fires of war would normally act so demure, and I was right.

As I expected, she was very direct. She wouldn't have had time to be anything else with an endless stream of patients on the operating table, even if she wasn't the one personally doing said operating. Kiyomi had a sort of slyness to her, which tentatively began to show its face by the time we reached the massage parlor. I could begin to see the side of her that wanted to tease her boyfriend in the manner I walked in on; I bet she would have actually made him eat dinner before letting him fuck her, and drawn it out too.

She began to ask me questions about myself, and though I couldn't answer all of them, since they were a little sensitive, we found some common ground in our interest in chakra theory and biology. She actually found her work interesting, which was a great improvement over most people in this world, medics especially. People here tended to gravitate far more towards professions they were skilled at, even if they made them miserable. That would, of course, lead to burnout, and close personal relationships would suffer for it.

Feeling looser physically than before, and tentatively content with Kiyomi as Kazuhiro's girlfriend, I began to think about dinner.

"Ne, what do you think Kazuhiro would like?" I asked, innocently.

"You're the one who just returned from an extended mission," she pointed out, tone pleasant. "I think he would most want whatever you want."

Well played, girlfriend. Well played.

If Kazuhiro was here, he would say the same damn thing. And she ingratiated herself to me in the same move. Maybe all that time spent around ninjas rubbed off on her.

"Perhaps hot pot then," I mused. She had only delayed my test; once we got to the restaurant I made her order for Kazuhiro. It was an actual challenge, since Kazuhiro didn't really eat hot pot unless he was with me. He didn't have an Order, and I doubted they'd ever gone here together, so she had to apply what she knew about him to inform her decision.

She settled on beef sukiyaki, with minimal spice. Decently selected, because Kazuhiro was a little bit of a bitch when it came to food. I've tried to beat it out of him over the years, with limited success.

"I didn't think nii-san liked spinach," I said neutrally. It was my only critique.

"Oh, he hates it," Kiyomi agreed, to my surprise. "But he's iron deficient, so I'm forcing some leafy greens into his diet. He'll live."

"Careful, Kiyomi," I said with a small grin. "I'm starting to like you. Ask around; that's not necessarily the best situation to find yourself in."

"I've had plenty of uncomfortable positive attention before. Once, I stuck my whole hand in someone's chest, and he stalked me for a month after. Called me his angel. Administration had to get involved so I could get my work done."

I hummed; it sucked, but I supposed that was bound to happen to a hot nurse. Gratitude and lust was an unfortunate combination.

"Want me to kill that guy for you?" I asked, and I think she couldn't decide if I was joking or not. To be fair, neither could I.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary. It would be counterproductive to my work. Besides, I don't spend my time in the hospital anymore. My patients are far more professional these days."

I chuckled, accepting our orders and leaving to make our way home. According to the woman herself, Kiyomi had insisted that Kazuhiro would arrive no later than six, so he might actually beat us there.

"Tadaima!" I called, seeing his shoes by the door.

"Imouto!" he said, surging to his feet. He could see Kiyomi right behind me, so the correct conclusion was easy for him to reach. I think he was almost as nervous as his girlfriend had been, judging from how his gaze flicked between the two of us.

"I didn't know you returned!"

"We just arrived this afternoon," I told him, grinning as I stalked forward to wrap my arms around his midsection. I was quite fed up with being so short.

"I was quite surprised to come home to find a pretty girl in our kitchen."

I looked over my shoulder, winking at his red-faced girlfriend. I'd leave out the half-naked part so it could be a surprise tomorrow. I wasn't sure if she would ever work up the nerve to tell him that little detail about our first meeting.

"...I was going to introduce you two," he said, sheepishly. Through the embrace, I could feel that his heart was pounding. "Very soon, honest."

"Yeah, sure," I said, realizing that my expression probably wasn't doing anything to ease his anxiety. When my teammates saw this expression, they knew to run for the hills lest they be caught up in the impending explosion.

"Seems like you're a lucky guy, nii-san," I said, leaning up on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

"I approve."

I think that put him more at ease. I went to the kitchen to get plates and chopsticks, and I could hear whispered conversation between the two of them. Kazuhiro probably wanted reassurance that I hadn't scared her off. Hopefully, she enjoyed the outing as much as I had.

Dinner was lovely, dominated mainly by conversation between me and Kiyomi. Now that we weren't in public, some topics became safer to talk about, like Kazuhiro's surgery. My brother seemed torn between being happy we were getting along, and wary that we might conspire against him. That fear was well founded; if he fucked this up somehow, he'd have to deal with two angry women.

"Imouto?" he asked softly as we did dishes. We both staunchly refused to let Kiyomi do any of the work, so she was in the living room, out of earshot.

"Yeah, nii-san?"

"I wanted to talk about…I know this is a big change for us. I wanted to…reassure you that this won't…ugh. I love you, imouto. This new family dynamic won't change that."

"Okay, pause," I said, cutting off his train of thought. "I appreciate you wanting to tell me that, but it's not necessary. I know that you having a girlfriend won't detract from your love for me. I'm not worried on that front."

"I might not have as much free time to spend with you," he mumbled.

"Then I'll bother you at work, when I'm in the village. You're acting like I'm not just as busy as you are. I'm actually super pleased that you have someone to keep you company when I'm out on missions. I was a little worried about you, nii-san. I'm proud of what you've turned the Sky Division into, but it's kinda consumed your life. That isn't healthy. It's good that you have someone to keep you in check."

He wrapped a wet hand, soap suds and all, around my waist and pulled me close.

"I love you. You're always so mature and understanding."

That would be due to the cumulative forty-five years of living experience. I've given a decent amount of thought as to how old I view myself to be, and I go back and forth on whether I count this life at all in the grand scheme of things. It's not necessarily progression; I'm redoing my childhood. Despite my retained memories, my brain wasn't developed, and that distinction was clearly reflected in some of the choices I made back then. If anything, my mental state regressed in those years, rather than grow.

Eh, whatever. This was a debate for philosophers, which I was decidedly not one of.

My grin returned.

"And if you ever need some alone time, just let me know, " I teased. "Kami knows I have enough on my plate to distract me."

"This is your home too," he objected, blushing. "You have just as much a right to it as I do."

"I can crash at Akane-obasan's. I'd prefer that to the mental scarring. I don't think I'm into voyeurism, and certainly not with you as a subject."

He made a noise of protest, and I giggled. He was just so precious.

"Just so you know, I expect the same consideration in a couple years."

He whipped his head around so fast I thought he broke his neck.

"Imouto, don't joke like that!" He pleaded, and I raised an eyebrow.

"What's the joke?"

He was lucky I was giving him advanced notice on this. He could have found out in a much worse way when he was least expecting it.

"Wha—you're eleven!" He said, aghast.

Almost twelve, but those semantics didn't really help my case here.

"Hence the couple years. I won't be a kid forever, nii-san. I have needs like any other person, and you're just gonna have to come to terms with that. You were just praising my maturity; this is the trade off."

"Imai Kasaiki, if I come home to see you with a boy, I will disembowel him slowly," he promised. "No one will ever find the body. I will leave it on a random peak in the Sekitsui for the vultures to feast on."

So dramatic. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, you can rest easy on that front. You'll never catch me with a boy. My tastes lean in a different direction."

I watched him out the corner of my eye, hating the fact that my heart rate began to pick up. It was stupid. I wasn't ashamed of my sexuality even a little bit, but the Elemental Nations' general views on the subject were "hide it, and no one will make a fuss."

If you didn't hide it well enough…mileage may vary.

"Oh. Oh." He sounded vaguely uncomfortable, but I got the sense that it was due to the conversation itself more than the specific topic.

"Well, good."

I gave a huff, even as the feeling in my chest dissipated.

"I don't know if I should be," relieved, "satisfied with that response, or offended. Sex is still sex, no matter who it's with. It's just as significant—or insignificant as it will probably be in my case—if it's with another woman."

"Please stop talking, I really don't want to think about this," he begged. "I just meant I'm relieved that I don't have to worry about you getting pregnant."

I supposed that was fair.

"It would be weird if you did. But you better come to terms with the idea eventually. The last thing I need is for you walking in on me and freaking out when I'm in the middle of getting lucky."

"Dishes are done!" He announced, voice strangely high and strangled as he fled my gut-busting cackle.

I finished drying the plates and followed him back into the sitting room, where Kiyomi was listening to Kazuhiro's rant with bemusement. I couldn't help but grin at the sight. It was so cute he found someone he could be vulnerable with. That more than anything else I witnessed this evening cemented my liking of Yokoda Kiyomi.

"I don't want to talk about sex with my baby sister," he whined into her neck as she patted his cheek consolingly.

"I'm sorry to say, my love, you invited the topic yourself. You didn't simply think you could bring up my pregnancy without having to answer any uncomfortable questions, no?"

Kazuhiro froze. I froze. Nobody moved.

"I…didn't get around to that part yet," he said in a very small voice. Kiyomi's hand paused mid stroke of his hair.

"Ah. Oops?"

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

In a medical center hidden deep under the mountain, Tsuchibokori no Biwa pulled himself into a seated position. He sensed a familiar presence outside his door, and sure enough, a short knock soon followed.

"Enter," he called gruffly, barely resisting the urge to cradle his side at the motion. The door swung open, and in strode Ōnoki, the Sandaime Tsuchikage. Biwa's father. In that order.

Neither said a word as the short man took a seat on a visitation chair in the corner. Only once he was comfortable did the old man cast an appraising eye over his grisly injury, which appeared all the more jarring under the ceiling light's harsh brightness.

He knew what the Tsuchikage saw. A chunk had been bitten out of Biwa's side, nearly to the bone. A significant stretch of skin around the injury been removed as well after the fact, as his enemy's Raiton chakra burned his clothes into the epidermis.

Biwa had received the best treatment Iwagakure could offer, but he'd still carry this scar for the rest of his life.

"It wouldn't compromise my combat ability."

It was the first thing he said to break the silence, because he imagined it was the Tsuchikage's primary concern.

"I know," the man replied, heavily. "I didn't think I'd see you like this again."

Where one child might hear grief in his parent's voice, Biwa only heard disappointment.

"I haven't fought anyone that powerful since A," he said, masking the defensiveness in his tone.

"I gathered," the Tsuchikage replied, neutrally. "I'm not sure if it is a stroke of luck or misfortune that your adversary was a missing nin. Do you think he'll sell our secrets to our enemies?"

Not Iwagakure's. Ours. Ōnoki's and Biwa's.

"If he did, he would be selling his own secrets as well," Biwa grumbled. "But for the right price? Who knows."

The Tsuchikage hummed, dissatisfaction coloring his tone.

"Hopefully he will be too preoccupied to approach anyone interested," he said. "And if he does approach anyone, hopefully they will be too enticed by his bounty to hear him out. Muzan is now listed in our bingo books at an enticing one and a half million ryō."

A ludicrous sum. Higher than any initial bounty Iwagakure has issued since the Nidaime Mizukage himself. No doubt it was a hot topic on the international stage—hell, the domestic stage too. Everyone was wondering what this random, unknown missing nin had done to piss off Iwagakure to such an extent.

"I've been searching for this…Muzan. My spies haven't uncovered a damn thing. The man is a ghost. In retrospect, we can likely attribute a slew of bounty collections to him. But beyond that…the Elemental Nations have never lost track of such a powerful ninja to this extent."

Images flashed through Biwa's mind of the fight. Every jutsu he used, every word that was spoken. He had already written a perfect report, which the Tsuchikage had read, but he couldn't capture tone in writing.

"Something he said at the beginning of the exchange," Biwa noted. "It was possibly the only statement that seemed entirely genuine. I asked if he was new to the business. He replied that he was older than I would believe. How far did you look back, historically?"

"Sixty years," Ōnoki replied. "But not out of negligence; records of specific individuals weren't comprehensive back then. I instead attempted to find records of whatever that kinjutsu was. The only tale that matched in the slightest came from Taki."

"Taki?" Biwa repeated. "How did Taki invent a kinjutsu of that caliber?"

Nothing came from Taki. It was as inoffensive as any hidden village could be; that was probably why they were the only minor nation given a tailed beast. They weren't exactly forward thinkers when it came to jutsucraft.

"The reference I found contained no mention of organ assimilation," the Tsuchikage replied. "Merely the threads you saw, along with the reach and physical resilience they offered. Additionally, chakra work had very little to do with it. The kinjutsu itself involved the dismemberment of a Yōkai's corpse. Its threadlike flesh would be sewn into shinobi chosen to bear its abilities. But their feats paled in comparison to what you witnessed. And the last user was recorded only a decade after the creation of the HIdden Village system."

"Yōkai," Biwa muttered. "I hate Yōkai. Give me a tailed beast any day."

Some people called the Biju Yōkai, but to anyone in the know there was a huge distinction. Yōkai didn't possess the sheer destructive capability of the tailed beasts, but they were far trickier to deal with. Many of them couldn't be killed at all, only put to sleep, and new methods for dealing with them weren't discovered in the present day. If a weakness existed at all, knowledge of it was passed down from ancient times.

Not all Yōkai were powerful. Some were mere annoyances. But the deadly ones that did exist were a nightmare. Those were always imprisoned by entire orders of monks, or sometimes shinobi clans, that acted as their wardens. They swore lifelong oaths to devote themselves solely to the task.

"My opinion of Taki's founders has fallen even further if they truly decided to do something so asinine."

"The practice originated long before the village was founded," the Tsuchikage revealed. "This particular Yōkai, who bears no name that I could find, was watched over by the Arakawa, who, yes, were one of Takigakure's founding clans. The Yōkai was, supposedly, hidden under the Waterfall after which the village was named. But its corpse didn't regenerate. They used up every part of its body, until only the head remained. That head was stolen by a dissatisfied shinobi, who deserted the village and laid it to rest. The kinjutsu was lost, which I believe to be true since we haven't seen anyone who wielded it since."

"Until now," Biwa said, and the Tsuchikage let out a small huff.

"As I said, they only bear abstract similarities. The ability to extend and stitch up lost limbs. Some heightened durability. The modifications didn't even apply to their entire bodies, just whatever parts they decided to steal from the Yōkai. Fearsome against ancient shinobi without bloodlines, back in the Warring Clans Era. In the modern day, it is only a gimmick."

Shinobi in the current age were far stronger than those back in the Warring Clans Era. They had more resources than their ancestors did. They could learn from a diverse assortment of experienced teachers, not just elders from their own clan. They had the opportunity to learn jutsu that they would not otherwise have access to. It was one reason why there was still an intense debate over whether or not the decision to form Hidden Villages actually lowered the death toll. The fighting that did occur yielded far more destruction.

"That's what they achieved by binding small parts of the Yōkai to themselves," Biwa said. "But what would happen if they bound its entire head?"

Yōkai weren't like humans. Their bodies weren't made of flesh and blood; they were made out of ideas, emotions. Power itself, bound to strange chakra that defied understanding. Symbolism was a big part of their existence, something that was reflected by the strange methods used to pacify them. If someone took a Yōkai's head for their own…Biwa couldn't be sure exactly what that meant, symbolically, but it couldn't be anything good.

The Tsuchikage sighed.

"If it will put you at ease, I will look further into the matter," he said, standing up from his seat.

"I had one other thing I would like to speak to you about, Tsuchikage-sama," Biwa said before the man could leave.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

Biwa wished he could do this in a much less prone position. This conversation should take place in the Tsuchikage's office, not the Red Ogre's infirmary.

"I would like to nominate Ishida Iwao, Hirose Daigo and Imai Kasaiki for promotion to Chunin. They are more than ready, as evidenced by their defeat of Nomo Hideo. They no longer need my instruction."

The Tsuchikage paused, slowly turning to face Biwa fully.

"They no longer…need your instruction," he repeated.

A not so great feeling began to curdle in Biwa's gut, but he answered nonetheless.

"Hai."

Ōnoki hummed in thought, a wicked glint in his eye.

"I am inclined to agree. They possess the ability, the intelligence, and the drive to become Chunin. From a formalities perspective, they have already completed the mission requirements for promotion. And they've secured the voluntary, unprompted nomination from one of Iwagakure's jonin—yourself. Of course, we need recommendations from two other jonin, but I'm sure you could come up with those easily enough. Endo Ayumu being one clear candidate. Perhaps, due to the casual working relationship between a member of your team and his, Oe Fudoki would be willing to supply the other."

He wasn't surprised that the Tsuchikage knew about the knowledge exchange between Imai and Oe's kunoichi. Frankly, though, that didn't matter. The man would do anything Biwa asked, due to his status alone. He could probably get a recommendation from any jonin on the roster, even those who had never even met his team. Anything to curry favor with Iwa's prince.

"So you will approve their promotion, once I gather the necessary recommendations?" Biwa asked. The Tsuchikage pretended to think about it for a long moment.

"Let me be very clear," he said, his voice severe. "I will not give any consideration to your nomination. Your genin will not be promoted, and will remain under your care for the foreseeable future."

The suddenness and strength behind the rebuke knocked the breath out of him. It took him so off guard, that he felt the need to twitch his shoulder, pulling a wire to displace the sensor pad on his chest so the heart rate monitor couldn't pick up any sign of the shock.

"What? Why?" he asked, the Tsuchikage's tone reminding him of shameful memories in the past. He felt the back of his neck prickle, and his face began to grow hot.

"They deserve the rank, you said so yourself!"

"This isn't about them," the Tsuchikage said, sternly. "It's about you. I've requested for you to take students for many, many years now. Each time, you denied me, until I felt the need to put my foot down on the matter. Out of respect and kindness, I accepted your bargain, granting you several years from the date of agreement to postpone your new role as sensei, and remain on the active jonin roster. That time ran out, and you were given a team. Those were the terms of our deal. Now, after barely over a year under your tutelage, you want to shirk your responsibility, washing your hands of them at the first chance you get?"

He scoffed, and it took all of Biwa's self control to keep his hands from trembling in anger and embarrassment. This was the only man that could elicit such a response from him, and he wasn't yet finished.

"They're chunin level? No shit. I could assign that particular team to any jonin and they'd reach that status in this amount of time. I don't need any more chunin—I need legends! That was my expectation, and that is what you will deliver. Only then will you have completed your duty."

Biwa could never hide anything from Ōnoki. No amount of ninja training was enough, and that only made everything worse.

"I suppose I can withdraw my earlier statement," he said with a put-upon sigh at Biwa's reaction. "There is one circumstance in which I will allow the immediate promotion of your team."

As fucking if. Ōnoki wasn't a compromising man.

"I said I wanted legends, and I suppose I don't care about their precise identities. If you wish, you may choose a new genin team out of the next graduating batch. They will be your new team, and you will train them until they meet my expectations. It will set your progress back, but if you'd prefer…"

He trailed off expectantly. The offer, as Biwa expected, wasn't a good one at all, but he still thought about it for a minute. He'd begrudgingly grown a little fond of Iwao and, to a lesser extent, Daigo, but he could still maintain a somewhat cordial relationship with them after promotion. And the opportunity to wash his hands of Imai Kasaiki…a part of him was tempted to take it. She was annoying, brash, confrontational, cocky, and disrespectful. She undermined his authority, and he'd probably never forgive her for her actions in Sōgen no Kuni.

She also saved his life. He would have died if not for her reckless, brilliant technique, which he had derided to her face on many occasions. Her brain worked differently, but he didn't always hate how that manifested. Her sense of humor wasn't always grating. And the elation on her face when she discovered something about chakra, the creativity in which she applied his teachings…it was endearing, in a way.

Imai was loyal, too. Even in Sōgen, she acted in what she thought was Iwa's best interest, even though the specifics and the manner in which she went about it offended Biwa's sensibilities. Taking a step back to look at it objectively…that was something he respected to a significant degree.

The insubordination was a problem, but it wouldn't be insubordination if she had the authority to make her own decisions. Which, Biwa had to accept, she would gain in only a matter of time. Imai's rise to prominence was inevitable. He knew it, her other part-time senseis knew it—hell, the Tsuchikage knew it too. That was why he had offered to part with the secrets of Lord Mu's bandage scroll unprompted when Biwa offhandedly mentioned he didn't have a gift for her birthday celebration.

Then there was the matter of their replacements. Not only would he be set back a year, it was almost guaranteed they wouldn't have as much potential as his current team, even though he'd certainly get his pick of the litter. But was the devil he knew better than the alternative?

No. That didn't really have much to do with it at all.

"I'll keep them," he said, gruffly. Damn the old man and his psychology. Biwa wasn't a boy anymore; he saw through at least eighty-five-percent of his father's manipulation tactics, these days.

That didn't mean they weren't still effective, clearly. It just meant he understood why they were so effective.

Next, he'd probably make some concession that would maximize the impact of the epiphany he led Biwa to.

"Good. Now, I realize tensions ran a bit high towards the end of your mission. I will allow you some time apart to cool things down."

Called it.

"An interesting request just reached my desk this morning. In light of this conversation, I believe I will grant my approval. You'll have a month's break from your role as sensei, and when that's up, your team training will resume in the mornings, five days a week, mission schedule permitting. Those, they will run independently from yourself, freeing you up to take jobs befitting someone of your caliber."

This was something Biwa had been expecting eventually, but not this soon. Someone was getting impatient.

"So he's made his move," he muttered.

"Matter of convenient timing, more like. I think it will be good for them," Ōnoki said. "They're missing experience working with larger groups, which will be a detriment to their efficacy when tensions boil over and war is declared. Besides, considering who exactly is on your team, it was only a matter of time."

He turned his back once more, and this time Biwa had no reason—and especially no desire—to stop him.

"Focus on your recovery. I'll send any interesting texts I uncover your way."

Then, he left.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

AN: Hey, y'all! Sorry for the late chapter, but its double length, so hopefully that makes up for it. I'm too tired to write a real author's note, but I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Especially the Auntie Kasaiki part, and the Biwa/Ōnoki chat. You can expect some more character focused chapters incoming, which I am personally very excited to begin.

One thing I did want to address is bounties. I didn't really have reference, so I assigned Kasaiki and Minato's bounty a while ago based on vibe. However, I realized now that there is a single bounty stated in canon: Asuma's. 35 milli. If that's what his is, then the bounties I already stated are not proper at all. I decided to base Muzan's bounty off of Kasaiki's not the singular canon example. If you're strung up on that, feel free to go ahead and assume there was mega inflation between this era and canon.

I think you all will be excited for what's about to come. I won't state it outright, but I'm sure most of you can guess what that "interesting request" is. Also, what's this about Yōkai? Eh, probably not important.

Anyway, see you soon!