Chapter Text
Tenzo and Kita stood silently in the Hokage’s office. The air was heavy, the silence only broken by the faint rustle of parchment as Kita handed her grandfather a scroll - Itachi’s personal letter to the Sandaime. Itachi had entrusted them to deliver it and made one thing clear: he wouldn’t return to Konoha. Not yet. Maybe one day, if he was still welcome and if Sasuke was ready.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat comfortably in his chair, reading the scroll in quiet concentration. Kita leaned against the wall, biting her lower lip, unable to shake the anxious flutter in her stomach.
“What does it say?” she finally asked, her voice careful, hesitant but no answer came.
The Hokage read the letter again, and then again. Tenzo remained still, though from the corner of his eye, he watched Kita - her jaw clenched, shoulders tight, breath shallow. Finally, Hiruzen looked up, his expression unreadable.
“Thank you, Tenzo. Well done. You may go,” he said gently.
Tenzo gave a bow, first to the Hokage and then to Kita. A moment later, he was gone, and the room felt a little colder.
“I believe you’d like to sit down for this one,” Hiruzen said. “It might come as a shock.”
Startled, Kita obeyed, sitting across from him. The scroll lay open on the desk between them, but she didn’t dare look. Itachi had asked her not to read its contents, and she’d promised she wouldn’t.
Hiruzen studied her for a long moment. Then, “Do you remember we’re holding a clan meeting?” Kita nodded immediately. Of course she remembered. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the mission. The Sarutobi clan never held meetings - not like this. Why now? “I’ve been thinking about your Jōnin nomination,” Hiruzen continued, “And I want you to pass an official exam.”
Kita blinked, caught off guard. “What?” she said. “Okay… but why?”
“So no one talks,” he replied simply, setting his Hokage hat aside. “So they all know—without a shadow of a doubt—that you earned it. That you are worthy of the title.” He began rolling the scroll back up with care. “The exam consists of three parts: a written test, one-on-one combat, and a series of missions. I’m not worried about you passing. You returned from Sunagakure with success but the hardest part,” he said, giving her a look, “might be today.”
‘Today?” she echoed, brow furrowing. “Wait - is the exam today?”
Hiruzen chuckled, waving his hand. “Meet me here at six this evening.”
Gosh, Jiji, why do you always have to be so cryptic? she thought. She stood and gave a polite bow, sensing she wouldn’t be getting any more answers about Itachi’s message. As she reached for the door, his voice stopped her.
“Kita.” She turned, eyes questioning. “You’re remarkable.”
Something softened inside her. The tension ebbed, and a smile flickered on her lips. Her usually dull, brown eyes shimmered just like they had when she’d seen Itachi again.
“Really?” she asked, her voice quiet, uncertain. Hiruzen nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he pulled a pipe from the drawer and lit it. As smoke curled into the air, he looked at her with something rare in his gaze - it was warmth.
“Yes,” he said. “And I believe in you.” It took a second for his words to sink in. He hadn’t said something like that in years. Not once and for the first time in a very long while, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could believe in herself too.
“Thank you, Ojisan,” Kita said, bowing again, a bit more deeply this time. Her voice was softer now, touched with something unspoken - relief, maybe, or gratitude that didn’t know how to come out right.
She turned toward the door, her fingers just brushing the handle when her grandfather’s voice stopped her once more. “Someone needs to tell Sasuke,” he said.
Kita froze. The words hung in the air like mist, sinking slowly into her bones. She turned back around, unsure of what to say. There was a heaviness behind his statement, something quiet but undeniable. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed.
“I... I thought we weren’t supposed to speak to him about Itachi,” she said slowly, cautiously. “That the Council -’’
“The Council no longer has a say in that,” Hiruzen interrupted, his tone gentle but laced with finality. “Itachi has been pardoned. Quietly, yes, but it’s official and more importantly, Itachi asked you to deliver this message for a reason.”
Kita lingered at the doorway, eyes narrowing slightly. “You want me to be the one to tell Sasuke?”
Hiruzen leaned forward, fingers threading together as his elbows rested on the desk. His voice dropped just a little, full of quiet weight, “Sasuke won’t trust just anyone and I think he deserves to know. To hear that his brother hasn’t forgotten him, that, even in exile, Itachi is still watching over him.”
Kita’s heart tightened. She stepped back into the office, the floorboards creaking faintly under her footfall. “But what if he doesn’t want to hear it from me? What if... he thinks it’s a lie? A trap?” Her voice cracked, just slightly. “He’s angry. Rightfully so. Not just at Itachi but at all of us. What the Konoha let happen to his clan.”
Hiruzen’s gaze softened, “He might, he has every right to question but that doesn’t make the truth less important and you, more than anyone, understand what it’s like to stand between both worlds.” She said nothing for a moment, her fingers curled loosely at her sides. “You’ll tell the truth, Kita,” he said, his voice calm and certain, “like you always do. And you’ll let him choose what to do with it. That’s all you can offer someone when the ground under their feet has been shattered, something real to stand on.”
Kita let the words settle, their weight pressing down like late summer heat. There was no glory in what she’d been asked. No reward, just risk and uncertainty. And, something more fragile than either - hope. She nodded once, slowly, ‘Alright. I’ll do it.”
“You’re not alone,” Hiruzen added as she turned to leave again. “You never have been.”
Kita didn’t answer this time but the silence wasn’t heavy, it was full. Kita nodded, biting her lip again out of habit. She turned back to the door once more, pausing with her hand on the frame. Before she could reach for the doorknob, Kita paused once more. Her voice, low and tense now, cut through the silence, “Were there any signs of him?” she asked without turning around. “Orochimaru. While I was gone?”
Hiruzen didn’t answer immediately. She could hear the soft rustle of his robes as he leaned back in his chair, the creak of old wood beneath his weight. She turned around to face him.
“No confirmed sightings,” he said at last, “but we believe he is here. Somewhere. Watching the exams. Maybe even closer than we think.” Her jaw clenched. “I hope you’re not trying to look for him, Kita,” he added, more sharply this time. A warning - quiet but firm.
“I’m not,” she said, but her voice betrayed a flicker of something else. Something unresolved. “I just… I needed to know.” Hiruzen studied her closely, his dark eyes seeing more than she wished they could.
“He’s dangerous. You know that better than anyone,” he said, softer now. “He’s not the man you once knew. If you run into him again, you’re not to face him alone. Promise me that.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, then said without doubt, “I’m not afraid of him.”
“That’s exactly what frightens me,” Hiruzen replied, still smoking.
Silence stretched between them like a shadow. Kita looked away, her voice quieter this time.
“If he is watching - does that mean he might interfere during the next stage of the exam?”
“I’m sure he will,” Hiruzen said grimly, “and that is the point. The Chūnin Exams were a stage and Orochimaru made sure his performance left a scar.” Kita crossed her arms, fingers digging into her sleeves. Hiruzen went on, “He marked him like a tool. Like he used to do to people in the labs. He sees power, not people. You were lucky to escape that, Sasuke hasn’t.”
That hit her harder than she expected. She nodded slowly, trying to push down the heavy churn of emotion inside her chest.
“I’ll be careful,” she said,
“I know you will,” Hiruzen said, almost kindly, “but that’s not what I need from you. I need you to stay wise . And I need you to let others help you. You are not alone.”
Kita gave him one last look, the kind that carried more weight than words, then turned and left for real this time.
It had been a plain thing, spoken like fact, not comfort. No elaborate speech, no reassurances. Just belief. The kind that made her stomach twist not in fear, but in a way that made her want to be the kind of person someone could say that about.
She lingered there for a heartbeat longer, her hand tightening on the doorframe, shoulders stiff with everything unspoken. Her mind raced: all the times she’d doubted herself, all the names whispered behind her back, all the glances from the Sarutobi elders that never quite met her eyes. The burden of legacy. Of bloodlines and decisions made long before she was born.
He trusts me. The thought struck deeper than she expected. She didn’t look back, not because she didn’t want to but because if she had, if she had seen his face, calm and quietly proud, she might have broken down in front of him. So she stepped into the corridor, the heavy door closing behind her with a soft click . The sound echoed in the stillness like punctuation at the end of a chapter.
Her sandals hit the floor with purpose now, her shadow stretching down the hallway ahead of her. Maybe… just maybe, he was right. As she stepped out into the hall, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Orochimaru had seen her too, that he was watching her and waited for a good moment.
The sun had begun its slow descent behind the tiled roofs of Konoha when Kita stepped out of the Hokage’s Tower. The weight of the conversation with Hiruzen still clung to her shoulders, like a cloak too heavy to shrug off. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the night before, not that she’d had much of an appetite. She wandered down the stone path toward the marketplace, hoping for something simple: a bowl of miso soup, maybe some onigiri, something warm that didn’t ask questions. Her thoughts were still caught somewhere between Sasuke, Orochimaru, and the unread scroll that still burned in the back of her mind.
Then—
“KITAAA-CHAAAN!!” A flash of orange and an explosion of sound tackled her from the side.
Kita let out a startled breath as Naruto slammed into her with all the grace of a rogue windmill. He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed tight enough to knock the wind out of her. She stumbled back a step, blinking as he buried his face against her shoulder with a grin so wide it felt like it belonged to the sun.
“YOU’RE BACK! I KNEW YOU'D COME BACK! OH MAN, I’VE GOT SO MUCH TO TELL YOU—WAIT, WAIT, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN BACK?! Why didn’t you say anything?!”
“I—Naruto, I just got back—” she said, laughing despite herself, arms awkwardly half-raised like she didn’t know what to do with them.
He jumped back, still practically vibrating, arms flailing while shouting, “We passed the second part of the Chūnin Exam! You should’ve seen me! I was awesome! I didn’t even die once! Well, okay, ALMOST died, but still! And Sasuke got this weird thing on his neck! Wait, do you know about that already? You do, right?!”
Kita nodded gently and said, her voice low, “I heard.”
“Ohhh man, I was gonna tell you everything! Wait, hold on! You can help me train for the next part! We can spar, yeah?! Like we used to! Ohhh, I’ve got so many new moves! You HAVE to see this one where I -”
“Naruto,” she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He finally paused, blinking up at her with wide blue eyes and a huge grin. “I’m really glad to see you again,” she said truthfully. “But I’m tired. I just got back from a mission and I kind of want some food. Quiet food.”
Naruto’s face fell for a moment. “Oh… right. Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just got excited.”
“I noticed.” She smiled, “You nearly knocked me into the river.”
He laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “Heh… oops.”
“But maybe later,” she added, “we can train when I’ve slept and maybe when I’m not thinking about fifty things at once. What d’you say?”
“Deal!” he said, grinning again with renewed brightness. “I’ll hold you to it! Shadow Clone Pinky Promise!” He extended a pinky toward her dramatically. Kita blinked at it, confused.
“That’s a thing now?”
“It is now!” he declared. With a small shake of her head and the ghost of a smile, she hooked her pinky with his.
“Go easy on the ramen, Naruto,” she said as she turned to go.
“Only if you join me next time!” he called after her. As she walked away, she could still hear him humming loudly, off-key, and happy. For the first time in weeks, Kita felt just a little lighter. The streets were quieter now. The echo of Naruto’s voice had faded into the bustle of the market, replaced by the rhythmic murmur of late-day life in Konoha—merchants closing their stalls, children chasing each other through alleyways, the hum of life continuing as if nothing in the world had changed.
Kita found a small bench tucked beneath the overhang of a takoyaki stand, ordered something light, and sat in silence as the vendor worked. She wasn’t really hungry anymore, not after the talk with Hiruzen. The oil sizzled and popped in the background, grounding her in the present but her thoughts were already somewhere else.
Sasuke.
How was she supposed to tell him? She hadn’t seen him since before her mission, before the cursed seal, before the darkness in his eyes had deepened. Everyone had noticed it. He wasn’t the same. The weight of vengeance had always been part of him, but now it clung to him like a second skin, something poisonous and cold, and she was supposed to walk in and say, 'Hey, Sasuke. The Hokage has issued a pardon for your brother, meaning he can return to the village now. By the way, he hasn’t forgotten you. He’s still out there and he still loves you.'
Kita’s hands clenched slightly in her lap. But what if it’s too late for him to hear that?What if Sasuke didn’t care? Or worse, what if hearing from Itachi only made the hatred sharper? What if it felt like betrayal? She had seen it in Sasuke’s face when Orochimaru’s cursed seal had taken hold of him: not just pain, but hunger. A kind of hunger that terrified her. If she misstepped, if she brought him this message and he thought it was a trick, a manipulation, some Hokage-made ploy to dull the edge of his revenge…
It could undo him or push him over a line and still, it was his right to know. Hiruzen had been right about that. Kita thought of Itachi’s eyes, steady and hollow and full of quiet grief when he had handed her the scroll.
"He has to know one day. Even if he hates me forever, even if it changes nothing."
And Kita had promised.
A small plate of takoyaki was placed in front of her with a soft clink. She nodded politely at the vendor, murmured a thank-you, and stared down at the food. She didn’t feel ready. Not for this, not for what it might mean but maybe there wasn’t a right way to tell Sasuke. Maybe it wasn’t about finding perfect words, just the truth, and letting him choose what to do with it. She picked up a toothpick and slowly brought the first piece to her mouth, more for ritual than hunger.
Maybe I should ask Kakashi first, she thought, then sighed. Why was her path never smooth and easy?
The path to the Memorial Stone was quiet this time of day. Kita walked with careful steps, the soles of her boots brushing over fallen leaves and uneven gravel, her body tired from travel but her mind buzzing with too much weight to rest.
She spotted him from a distance - Kakashi Hatake, standing still as a statue at the edge of the clearing, where the tall stone marked the names of the fallen. His slouched figure was half-silhouetted by the dipping sun, the silver of his hair catching the light like frost. One knee was bent lazily, the other resting flat. His hitai-ate was in its usual place, covering the Sharingan he never asked for but carried all the same. He didn’t look up when she arrived but she knew he’d noticed her the moment she entered through the trees.
“Kakashi-senpai?” A beat passed. Then his lone eye shifted, tracking her with quiet familiarity. She looked exhausted.
“You’re back.” His voice was low, laced with an ease that didn’t quite reach his posture. She could tell he’d been sitting there a while. The kind of silence that wraps around your ribs like an old ache.
She gave a nod, “Mission’s done.”
He tilted his head a little. “You look like hell.”
Despite herself, Kita huffed a small laugh, “Thanks.”
There was no apology in his silence, just space for her to sit beside him. She did, lowering herself onto the stone base with a soft grunt, hands resting on her knees. The Memorial Stone rose before them, cold and dark, carved with names that felt too big and too heavy for the air. The grass around it had grown tall in patches, despite someone clearly tending it from time to time. The trees arched protectively around the clearing, casting gentle shade as the sun dipped lower behind the Hokage monument.
For a moment, they didn’t speak as Kakashi seemed absorbed in the stone, or maybe in the ghosts it held. Then she broke it, quiet but firm.
“Hokage-sama’s issued a pardon. For Uchiha Itachi.”
Kakashi didn’t react right away. He simply stilled more deeply but she felt it, the shift. The way his breath caught, only for a second. The way his fingers curled slightly where they rested near his leg. That was Kakashi: a man of locked doors and quiet avalanches.
“I see,” he said finally. His voice was calm but his eye had lowered. Kita waited.
“You knew?” she asked softly.
“No.” Kakashi’s tone didn't waver, but something inside it had changed, “But I wondered. It never made sense - not all of it. There were too many gaps, too much confusion.” He stared ahead, but not at the stone anymore. Something deeper. “It wasn’t a normal mission, was it?” he asked after a pause.
She shook her head, “With Tenzo, I was supposed to track him and deliver the pardon. He didn’t want to come back with us to Konoha, though. So, left a message for the Hokage and asked me to deliver it. That was the real reason.”
Another breath passed between them. Wind stirred the trees overhead.
“And now?”
“Jiji wants me to tell Sasuke.” That made Kakashi turn to look at her fully. His eye, the one visible to the world, met hers. Steady and sharp but not unkind.
“That won’t be easy,” he noticed.
“I know.”
“He won’t trust it. Not right away, maybe not ever,” Kakashi looked away again, letting his gaze drift toward the village walls beyond the clearing. “Especially coming from you.”
Kita raised an eyebrow, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I meant because you’re close, because you matter to him and because you were close to his brother, you fought Itachi twice while Sasuke was the one who always wanted to do so.” Kakashi let the quiet settle again. In his mind, he could already see the boy, brooding, quiet, driven by an anger so raw it nearly devoured him whole and now the truth was rising like a tide, ready to crash through whatever resolve Sasuke had left. “He’s angry,” he murmured. “It’s what he clings to. It’s his fuel, even when it burns him. The cursed seal Orochimaru gave him, it’s only made things worse.”
“I know,” she said again, more quietly this time, feeling apologetic for what her father had done to Sasuke. She had tried to save him in the forest but failed. She had failed to protect Itachi’s brother.
“You tell him this…” Kakashi hesitated, just long enough to be honest. “It might pull him back, or it might push him further away.” Kita’s eyes dropped to her hands, they were clenched tighter than she realized. Kakashi saw that and spoke again, softer, “Just tell him the truth. He’ll hear it, even if he pretends not to.” She nodded, but didn’t speak. The stone loomed in front of them, the names unreadable from here, but known in other ways—etched in memory, in regret. “And Kita” Kakashi turned toward her again, “whatever he does with that truth, that’s on him. Not on you.” That caught her off guard. She looked up at him, unsure what to say. “Don’t carry more than you need to.”
There was a long breath between them, something unspoken, understood without needing to be said. Then, of course, he tilted his head with familiar ease, letting the weight slide gently to the side. “I also heard something about a Jonin exam.”
Kita groaned and dropped her head into her hands, “Can the stone take me now?” This time, a quiet chuckle escaped him.
“You’ll be fine,” Kakashi said and coming from him, those words didn’t feel empty. He really believed in her.
Suddenly, Kita stood up, brushing invisible dust from her uniform. “I have to go,” she said, though it came out softer than she meant it to. Her voice still held the residue of everything Kakashi’s words had stirred up. He didn’t try to stop her. Just gave a small nod without looking up, still seated before the Memorial Stone, its black surface catching the fading orange of dusk. Shadows lengthened across the clearing.
“See you around, Kita.”
She paused for a moment, studying the angle of his shoulders, the quiet way he kept his grief company. Then she turned and walked away, boots crunching against the path until the trees swallowed her steps.
*
The Hokage Tower stood tall against the gold-pink sky, casting its own long shadow over the tiled streets below. The bells from a distant watchtower marked the hour with a clear, metallic chime.
Six o’clock . Hiruzen was waiting just inside the entrance when Kita arrived, his robes already adjusted for the formal setting, his countenance composed but weary. His pipe was unlit in his hand.
“You’re just in time,” he said with a faint smile.
Kita nodded, explaining, “Sorry, I stopped by the memorial.”
“Good.” He seemed to understand everything in that word.
Together, they walked in silence down the path toward the Sarutobi compound, a heavy but familiar quiet shared between family members who’d fought in the same wars - one literal, one not.
The Sarutobi compound was alive with warm lanterns and soft voices rising behind rice-paper screens. It was nestled in one of the quieter districts, built on steadiness and tradition, its walkways lined with manicured pines and moss-covered stones that glowed under the lantern light. There, standing just outside the entrance gate, was Manami. Her presence was unmistakable, even at a distance. Tall, with a quiet strength in her posture, and dark hair swept back in a no-nonsense braid that trailed over one shoulder. She wasn’t in formal clan attire, but she didn’t need to be. Her bearing alone carried the weight of her position: ANBU Commander, daughter of the Hokage, and the matriarchal anchor of their small, scattered family.
Manami’s gaze found them before they reached the steps. Her face was calm, but her eyes scanned Kita with the sharpness of a mother who’d already assessed for wounds and fatigue before Kita even said hello.
“You’re late,” Manami said, folding her arms. Her tone wasn’t unkind, just dry.
“I’m on time,” Kita replied, lifting an eyebrow. “Hokage-sama can vouch for me.”
Hiruzen gave a diplomatic grunt that could have meant anything. Manami looked him over, then nodded once, “Good, they’re waiting.”
Kita shifted her weight, suddenly aware of the exhaustion in her bones. Her eyes flicked past her mother’s shoulder to the open doors of the compound, where muted voices echoed through the inner courtyard. The Sarutobi elders were gathered tonight. All of them . She had never set foot inside before, not once. The compound might have been three streets over from the home she shared with Hiruzen and her mother, but it may as well have been another world. When she was younger, she used to linger at the edge of its walls on her way back from the Academy, tracing the crest etched into the gates with her eyes. Her crest, too, or it should have been but no one had ever invited her in. Not when they looked at her and saw him . Her father's shadow clung to her like a second skin, too deeply stitched to peel away. Orochimaru’s betrayal wasn’t just a wound in Konoha’s history, it was a stain that bled into every branch of the Sarutobi name and she was his child. His proof.
She still remembered the day she overheard one of the elders, her mother’s cousin, speak in hushed tones during a memorial gathering.
“She’s dangerous. She’ll turn like he did. Why risk it?”
Hiruzen had stepped in then, like he always did. Shielding her with quiet authority but the damage was already done.
So her world had stayed small - walled by caution, stitched together with half-truths and avoidance. Hiruzen and Manami had raised her away from the compound, away from the clan’s prying eyes and whispered fears. Not just to protect her from the cruelty, but because they weren’t sure the clan wouldn’t drive her out altogether.
Kita swallowed and took a breath. Her palms were cold, her shoulders tight beneath her coat. She had faced enemy shinobi, stood toe-to-toe with traitors, escaped genjutsu traps with only a whisper of her sanity intact. But this ... this was different. She wasn’t walking into a mission. She was walking into history, into names and faces that had loomed on the edges of her life like shadows behind a screen. Into a place that had called itself home, without ever opening the door.
Now, at last, the door was open. She just wasn’t sure what waited on the other side.
“Do I need to say anything?” Kita muttered under her breath.
Manami replied quietly, “Not unless they ask you directly.” She placed a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder. She might’ve made many mistakes throughout her and Kita’s lives, for which Kita still felt a pricking deep inside her resentment, yet, this time, her grandfather’s words echoed loud, ‘You are not alone. ’
Having watched her granddaughter’s conflicted expression, Hiruzen finally said, “They’ve been waiting for us long enough. Let’s get this over with.”