Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You have no past, you have no future, there is only the mission. The roots of a tree are not capable of emotion. You should know this best of all, Cat. When you create a tree the roots beneath you do not struggle against your vision, they bend to you as your will decides. The roots of Konoha must be the same . 

There’d been only a brief time in Cat’s life where he could remember the mokuton seeming foreign. Another force distantly humming deep inside his chest. The first time he’d ever succeeded in creating something from it the wood hadn’t obeyed as completely as it should’ve. Branches jutted out from the newly formed bridge, their leaves a verdant green. Life where he’d only meant there to be unwavering planks. He blamed it on his age, no more than five. Danzo blamed it on his lack of discipline. If he could perform a nature manipulation then there was no excuse for it to be untamed. It only took two more attempts before it settled into something he could take hold of. The distant hum grew to be almost soothing over time. Barely different than the feeling of his chakra un-melded gathering under his ribs. 

----

The mask fitted to his face bore little difference to those worn by standard Anbu. The rote recitation Danzo forced his operatives to live and die by had been lodged in his head for years now. The mokuton obeyed, and Cat felt nothing. He killed whoever Danzo pointed him towards, betrayed whatever secrets were shared with him, did his job as any well-kept tool should. He could recall with the neutral disinterest of a soldier the first time a mission leader had turned to him with a blade in hand, corpse at their feet. There were no words, the command went unspoken. Cat was only eight when he beheaded his first missing-nin. Danzo’s training had gone very well. 

----

He could recall with the slightest hint of discomfort how an operative he ran several missions with cornered him one day not long after that. Falcon’s mask stared back at him, their eyes startlingly visible. He wondered for a moment how they’d removed the jutsu meant to keep the mask’s holes pitch black without damaging it beyond repair. And why? He’d not been given the chance to ask. Falcon’s hands were on his shoulders as they spoke in a whispered rush. They expected someone to catch the two of them, he’d realized. You have something great within you, Cat. If you believe you were meant to help carry on the First’s will, as Danzo does, then stray far far from this path. The First was a God among shinobi but he wasn’t heartless. No shinobi can sever their emotions entirely. You can’t run from it. Only accept it or die . He’d wished the mask’s jutsu were still intact and their face unknown. Those amber brown eyes haunted him for longer than he could ever admit. Pity, empathy, and fear. A complete and utter terror, as if there was nothing so important as ensuring he heard their message and no nightmare so great as failing. Cat saw all of it. Falcon vanished with an expert body flicker the moment those words had passed their lips. No one seemed to have known about their strange interaction. Danzo would’ve surely questioned him otherwise. Cat wasn’t called on to follow, but a week later he heard another operative mention how their head resisted the blade severing body from face longer than most. Strong bones, for a bird . Cat pretended he didn’t see a disembodied mask with glassy brown eyes staring back, unmoving, from time to time in his dreams after that. 

He’d brushed Falcon’s words aside, he had little use for them. They were untrue. He couldn’t allow himself to believe in them, yet they refused to leave no matter how harshly he unseated them again and again. They always returned to try and settle like a thick fog in his mind. He’d been young and stupid--brainwashed, a voice would add in later years--to forget that his elders often possessed knowledge he couldn’t yet unearth on his own. Falcon had been older than him, as near all other fully active Root and Anbu operatives were. They’d known the world beyond Danzo’s reach. He shouldn’t have been surprised that they might be right. 

----

Cat knew each mask currently in the Root and Anbu rotation. Titles were often passed on, there had been a Cat before him and there would likely be one after his death in turn, but masks weren’t always the same. Anbu who were dismissed rather than killed sometimes kept theirs. Others were damaged beyond repair, most often in the moment of their wearer’s death. A scant few had been laid to rest with their wearer, a small act of respect for especially noble deaths they had no choice but to let remain secret. There had been a Hound before this one, though not during Cat’s time in Root. The Hound watching him through pitch black eye sockets was highest among the Anbu squad captains in Root’s own private bingo book. One of the Root operatives who Cat ran a mission with several months prior had noted in their copy “flee on sight”. Cat felt no great urge to. If anything he couldn’t help but match Hound’s interest, the slight quirk of his head like he were puzzling over a riddle. Hound was the only Anbu member near his own age at the time.

“The Sandaime didn’t appoint two operatives to this mission. What purpose did Danzo send you for, Cat?” The other boy’s voice was calm. Only a shinobi as highly trained as the Anbu or Root could’ve noticed the tension in his frame. Prepared for a fight, but determined not to cause one. 

“The same as your own,” Cat answered, “Danzo speaks with the Council now. They agree this is a better approach than the Sandaim’s initial.” 

The boy is meant to assassinate Gensai of Iwa. This spy provided us with much information in the last days of war, and has continued to now. The Sandaime is too trusting and weak to false pleas. You must ensure the spy says nothing to Hound that would suggest they gave Root information further than what was spoken to Hiruzen in the final days of the Third War . In official channels Danzo argued that sending more than one operative to intercept a spy was always the preferable method. To do otherwise was to give the spy an opportunity to sway the Anbu’s mind, or to reveal they were already unfaithful to the village that bore them. It wasn’t that they distrusted Hound in particular, of course--they did. No amount of service or sacrifice could truly erase their wondering if Sakumo’s weakness was born in blood. Nor if Hound could be so easily swayed by emotion, or perhaps held some unspoken bitterness over his father’s treatment in the White Fang’s final years. 

As expected of a loyal soldier, Hound asked no further questions. “Alright.” He turned away from Cat and set off towards their destination. Whether Hound recognized the implication behind their new orders or not, Cat couldn’t quite say. He doubted it went completely unnoticed. 

----

Hound remained silent until they stopped to rest for the night. They paused no more than an hour’s distance from their nation’s border, far enough that no patrols might take note of them but with their target less than a day’s journey away. Cat watched as the older Anbu began making marks in the thick forest dirt and positioning leaves within the scene he’d drawn. “You’re a long range fighter,” Hound asked, though it was more a statement than question. It made the most sense given Hound’s preference for mid to close range combat. 

Cat nodded. “Most often, but I work fine at close range.” 

“We’re best off baiting the target into getting within range of me. What sort of techniques do you specialize in?” 

Cat wondered how much he should divulge. To those outside of Root he only spoke of his mokuton when Danzo instructed him to, which had happened only twice in the entirety of his existence. He could use Earth and Water style jutsu, no one needed to know why those in particular, or how it could be that manipulation of either element came so easily to him. However, something about Hound interested him. Maybe it was their age, just a slight fascination at working with someone almost as young as himself. Cat tried to assure himself that was it. A traitorous voice whispered that simple reason wouldn’t be enough to make his fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and remove the mask keeping Hound’s face hidden. What lay underneath, he tried not to recognize, was a similarity that ran deeper than how many years they’d been alive. A notable amount of Hound’s reputation could be owed to something that wasn’t meant to belong to him. Even if skill allowed them to utilize what was given, their reputations were built on pieces of another shinobi melded with their own skin. What gave Cat the ability to use mokuton had once belonged to the First. Implanted in him and woven so finely within that he could no longer be stripped of it. What allowed Hound to copy infinite techniques, to cut through flesh with lightning singing at his fingertips, once belonged to an Uchiha. Whether the “right thing” had been to entrust either of them with their gifts depended on who you asked. They were both outliers in their own way. Success built off another’s life. But such reasoning would’ve been sentimental. Even the foolish explanation of age was preferable to that. 

“Earth and Water,” Cat finally answered, then clasped his hands together, “and this.” Small sections of wood arose from the ground forming angular mountains in place of where Hound had drawn them in the dirt. 

There was the briefest pause before Hound muttered, “Ah.” Cat chastised himself for the spike of disappointment that flickered through him. Stupid, and vain, unbefitting a Root operative. “That’s a definite advantage in our favor then.” Hound said nothing more of it, unlike almost all others who’d discovered Cat’s hidden talent. He supposed he should’ve expected as much. Hound was exceptional, and a bit strange in his own right if any of what Cat heard was true. A parlor trick wouldn’t impress him one bit. 

----

Hound stood back up, the scroll with their target’s head now tucked into a pouch at his side. “Cat, do your plants eat?” 

Cat didn’t quite know how to respond at first. He stared for a few moments, though Hound didn’t react in turn, before asking, “Like a venus fly trap?” 

Hound snorted quietly. “No,” he sounded amused, Cat noted, “no, I mean could they help something decompose.” 

“Oh! I’ve never tried but I imagine so.” 

“Mind giving it a go?” Hound gestured at the corpse. “If it doesn’t work we can just meld it down into the stone a few feet.” 

“Okay.” There was no harm in trying, he supposed. He thought back to the books he’d read on various types of plant life, searching in his mind for the ones best suited to the task. Hound took a few steps back as Cat clasped his hands together into the Snake seal. Moss steadily grew around and on the corpse. Mushroom caps began to appear, decorating the patches of greenery. Cat’s eyes were closed, his focus entirely on the life springing forth at his will. The only sound for miles was a low creak and stretch of roots digging into mulched flesh. Hound watched, curiosity and the bright glow of Sharingan red hidden from his teammate’s view. Their target had been almost completely covered in the blooms of green and earthy mushroom hues when a petal caught Hound’s eye. As Cat worked in this fashion he felt each species and all its variations. At moments distinct from one another and in the next a cohesive melody of life spreading through his chest, threatening to slowly wrap around his bones. It would be comfortable, he thought, to let it grow. To see what it was the soft hum of chakra within him wanted so badly to create. But he couldn’t. The mokuton was his to control, not the other way around. However, it’d been too long since he’d come close to losing himself in the feeling. He couldn’t recognize the subtle note of a plant he’d not meant to create being swept up in the medley of mushrooms and moss. Hound could though. Too out of place and unmatched for the intended task to have been on purpose, and Cat too unresponsive to its appearance to have noticed. A soft pink flower in clusters of three or four dotted the expanse of what had once been their target. Five petals and a delicate touch of muted yellow at their center. Oleander, the distant voice of an old Academy teacher supplied from Hound’s memory. 

It was some time before Cat opened his eyes again, satisfied that he’d find the work done as expected. On the whole, he was. The corpse had long since been obscured from view, but the mass that lay beneath a carpet of moss and hearty mushrooms couldn’t be more than the bones and metal trappings their target had worn. He frowned, he didn’t recall weaving in the flowers. Oleander belonged in a garden, not among a feast of flesh and worn bone. You let it slip from your control again , Danzo’s voice chided in Cat’s head. His gaze snapped to the other Anbu. What Cat wouldn’t have given, both in the moment and in long years after, to have been able to see Hound’s face just then. He couldn’t guess as to what response lay underneath. Disappointment, confusion, interest, fascination, there could’ve been anything in the slate grey eye hidden from view. Cat forced himself to speak, lest the silence confirm his lack of intent. “There’s nothing I can do about the bones, but they can be buried easy enough.” He offered. Hound nodded and swiftly made a few hand signs. The earth crumbled and opened, creating a pocket of darkness that what remained of the corpse instantly fell into. Then, as if nothing had ever happened, it reformed into solid rock completely unbroken. 

“Let’s go. We can make it across the border before evening patrol gets near.” 

----

They made it into Fire Country with time to spare, but not so early they could’ve returned to Konoha before the darkest hours of night. There didn’t appear to be any threat following them or suspicion from the patrols they’d avoided crossing, they had no need to push themselves, Hound reasoned. He preferred not to work his colleagues to death, if possible. “Let’s stop for a while.” He could almost sense Cat’s mild frown when the other shinobi turned to him. 

“We could reach the village before daybreak.” 

“And signal our return by a trip to the medic. We’re both low on chakra and it takes extra to keep pace at night. Nothing will change by resting.” Shinobi without otherwise enhanced night vision had to expend chakra on heightening their senses to near what they would be in daylight. Cat didn’t show any outward signs of chakra exhaustion, but he didn’t need to in order for Hound to see his stamina waning. The Sharingan couldn’t be tricked. After a few moments Cat nodded, he saw the reason in Hound’s decision.

The forest grew silent as darkness fell, blanketing its great expanse in pitch black. Hound kept a small fire lit that both shinobi sat beside, downwind of its occasional embers. Hound focused on the smells around them. Mice and voles darted through the underbrush in search of food. Some distance away a tanuki wandered among the maze of unearthed tree roots. It’d been three days since it lasted rained but the scent of loamy soil managed to linger ever so subtly down at the forest floor. After several years of peace it still caught Hound off guard at times how calm the outer forests of Konoha were. Where there’d once been the threat of an attack always looming overhead, no matter how unlikely, there was now only the murmurs of night and the gleaming eyes of its creatures. Under normal circumstances he would’ve been content to allow Cat his silent reflection, but it would be more difficult to coax the other shinobi into conversation while they were on the move, and given Root’s normal mode of operation he may never knowingly cross Cat’s path again once they returned. He couldn’t let the revelation of Cat’s talents go entirely unacknowledged, and he was admittedly curious.

“You can create things out of the wood, can’t you? Not just spikes or,” he gestured vaguely, unsure how to best name the small hardwood blocks Cat had demonstrated initially. 

Cat turned to him, a slight tilt of his head the only indication Hound’s sudden choice in conversation wasn’t poorly received. “Yes.”

The older shinobi hummed in thought for a moment. “What about shelter? Just four walls and a top.” 

“Yes. That would be kind of noticeable though, wouldn’t it,” Cat pointed out. The mokuton wasn’t meant to be an open secret outside of Root. If a pursuer stumbled on something made of wooden planks that blended so poorly in with the environment there would’ve been little other explanation for it once a shinobi was discovered inside. 

Hound waved it off, as if it were a trivial detail. “Maa, nobody’s around this part of the forest.” He could sense Cat’s urge to offer a counterargument. It’d undoubtedly be reasonable, but what Hound was suggesting wasn’t wildly unreasonable itself. “Not much point in a kekkei genkai like that if you don’t use it when it’d be helpful. Even if someone found us, would you kick in a shelter like that set up in the middle of a small nowhere clearing or wait until you knew for sure what was inside?” 

He didn’t know what Cat’s face looked like at all, but Hound once again got the impression he was frowning behind his mask. Cat’s training told him the correct response was to ignore the older shinobi’s suggestion or persuade Hound to reconsider. However, wasn’t outright denying one’s superior, who they’d been told to follow, against regulation? Cat’s admittedly scarce knowledge of Hound’s personality and behavior cautiously pointed to the other boy being difficult to persuade. He was supposed to leave Hound with little impression of him, to be nothing of real interest. Cat supposed he’d rather muddied that up by revealing his true skillset though. Besides, the traitorous voice within him said, didn’t he enjoy using the mokuton to be of use in a way that didn’t reap death? To see the wood bend and grow to form something whole rather than split bone and flesh. 

“Alright.” 

This in and of itself was frivolous, so the creation that arose from the once solid ground was plain as could be. Four walls and a top, like Hound had said. The only downside was a complete lack of light from outside now that their fire had been put out. Hound remedied it with a small lantern pulled from a storage scroll. The older shinobi glanced around though there wasn’t much to look at. “It’s nice,” he said. He sounded genuine. Cat wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. The praise offered so rarely by Danzo or those he trotted out Cat’s abilities for inspired a rather mixed bag of feelings. To know he’d done well brought satisfaction, but their words always held something else underneath. From Danzo there lay a pride for himself rather than Cat, as if finding the trapped boy abandoned in a lab and giving him scrolls written by someone else were an equal accomplishment. From others he couldn’t help but to hear what he saw reflected in their eyes as they peered down at him. What an interesting specimen . The casual way Hound spoke didn’t remind Cat of either. He spoke as if it were fact, not especially different than a comment on fair weather. Cat knew he could’ve made much grander things. He’d imagined it many times before, but never let himself indulge so deeply that it might come to life. This was as much as he could afford. It was small, trivial, irresponsible, but he thought Hound might be right. It was nice.

“Thanks.” 

----

They rested for no more than a handful of hours, preparing to leave just before first light. Cat placed his hands on the doorframe of their shelter and focused on pulling it down, the chakra returning to mix with the rest in its steady hum between his ribs. He felt a strange brush of chakra, unexpected proof it’d been coaxed into something other than wooden boards and planks. In between sections of wood grew a handful of flowers blooming in pink and magenta bursts. Rhododendron, he recalled, a piece of decoration along the outside wall he’d had no reason or intent to create. Cat absorbed it quickly and was grateful Hound had already turned away. His momentary weakness during the clean up of their target’s corpse was shame enough to bear another having seen. He would need to focus on his control when they returned to Konoha. Cat couldn’t yet parse why his grip on the mokuton had waned so severely. It’d not disobeyed him in years and here it had twice in as many days. It worried him, and frustrated him even more so. 

As the two shinobi parted ways in Konoha’s streets a few hours later, one to Anbu headquarters and the other to where Danzo slunk waiting below, he barely registered Hound’s gaze burning into his back. 

Chapter Text

Danzo’s brow furrowed deeper with each second as he dismissed Cat to do as the summons commanded. He never responded positively to the Sandaime requesting a member of Root come speak with him. Not when Danzo hadn’t done something he expected to prompt it. The Sandaime had never summoned Cat before. As he landed at the foot of the Hokage’s tower Cat wondered how much information the Sandaime even had on his presence within Konoha. Danzo had his own records, many pieces of which never reached the village’s archives. Those too were sparse by comparison to other members of Root. At least as far as Cat knew. He’d never been allowed to see them. 

Stepping foot into the Hokage’s office felt a touch surreal. He’d heard a great many remarks on the man’s character from Danzo and seen the village’s leader in-person before from a distance, but Cat himself had never been acknowledged directly. The Hokage spared less than a passing glance for him the few times they’d been in the same room prior. Now the Sandaime stared at him, wrinkled hands dotted with sun-spots clasped on his desk and posture straighter than men of his age typically held themselves with. His gaze was not an entirely kindly one. Nor was it so distracting or powerful as to prevent Cat from feeling another set of eyes on him. There were always Anbu with their Hokage, two outside the room and another inside. The main guard on duty was meant to be invisible, not even so much a presence as another piece of furniture. Yet he could feel Hound’s eyes watching and see the bone-white mask out of his periphery where Hound stood off to the side. From what he knew of Anbu’s rotations, Hound wasn’t a frequent main guard for the Hokage. They made far better use of him in the field. Cat supposed that answered the question as to why he was here. He lamented how greatly Danzo’s aggravation would grow when the subject of their conversation was confirmed. It’d been a foolish decision to make, revealing his skills unprompted.

“Remove your mask, Cat, this is not in regards to a mission.” Cat frowned while his expression was still hidden. One of many distinctions between Root and Anbu he’d not yet had to put up with. Root only removed their masks when necessary, only Danzo and perhaps a medic or two could claim to have seen every active member unmasked. Cat’s face was smoothed out into careful neutrality when the porcelain barrier came down. He couldn’t guess as to what the Hokage saw there, but it appeared to displease him. The old man’s brow furrowed. “Your records are concerningly sparse, not even so much as a name. Would you happen to know why this is?” 

An attempt at a trick, he thought, the Sandaime wanted him to either reveal Danzo’s intentions--not that Cat himself was truly aware of them beyond the vague protection of Konoha--or be caught in some kind of lie. The Hokage knew so little that he didn’t even realize how foolish a game it was in Cat’s case. “I don’t have one,” he answered honestly. 

The frown on his face deepened slightly. “All citizens of Fire Country are required to have a name included on their birth certificate, and there are no records for a “Cat” on any date near where your own date of birth might be. A piece of information which is also absent.” 

“If there is a certificate, I don’t know its whereabouts, or the date of it.” 

The Hokage raised an eyebrow in question, though his expression only took on a sense of frustration rather than earnest confusion. “I understand Danzo’s so-called motto for those under his command, but there are proper avenues for records to be made and I can hardly imagine the Senju-”

An old pang stabbed at his nerves, dully bounced off his heart. It’d been quite some time since the last case of mistaken identity. Despite how sensible Cat strove to be in all aspects of his life, there were certain pains he’d never quite mastered ignoring. “If anything more is known than my general age or my role, I’m unaware of it. I’ve been told Orochimaru kept little record of what came before his experiments.” He could hear the bitterness creep into his voice on the tail end. The agitated voice in his head he knew should keep quiet refused to truly desist, too on-edge to be so easily tucked away. Orochimaru was the Sandaime’s pupil, it recalled. Outside of his head, however, the room fell deathly silent. A mess of emotion flickered across the Sandaime’s face before disappearing back behind the stoic facade that’d greeted Cat when he first entered. The intensity of Hound’s gaze never waned, but at least Cat couldn’t feel it heavy with judgment. At least it was familiar in a strange way, despite how little time he’d spent with it focused on him prior. 

“I see.” the Sandaime responded eventually, “that is how you possess the mokuton then.” Cat nodded. “I assume you’re also unaware of how he managed to bestow it onto you?” 

He made it sound like such a gift. Cat had been told it was. At times he believed it. Others it felt almost like a joke. It’d not been nearly so pleasant or harmless a process as the Sandaime suggested either. “No, I am only aware of what I experienced, and that the other 59 subjects died.” Few quickly, most horribly, painfully. 

The child is younger than him, but the researchers murmur that they are sturdier than him. He is one of the smaller subjects. They do not have much faith in him. He isn’t sure if he does either. Least of all when the child begins screaming. He’d heard screams before. Many, many screams. Some of average terror or pain, others like animals being torn apart and devoured by wild boars. A concept he will not know to be an apt comparison until much later when he finally learns of animals outside the dingy tiled walls hidden down below Konoha’s roots. For now there is nothing like the child’s wretched wailing as something breaks through their skin. Flesh rendered by wood, splintered and somehow rotten even as it grows. He watches as it rips them apart. His face twisted in horror, Orochimaru’s in terrifying fascination. He will die, this he believes whole-heartedly. He was so much less notable than the rest. He was nothing special.  

“I see,” the Sandaime responded. He doesn’t , the bitterness whispered. “That is all, Cat. You may return to your duties.” 

Cat nodded, grateful to raise the mask back up to cover his face. He felt too bare, too visible, with it down in front of the Sandaime. Once again he left with no more than a distant acknowledgement of Hound’s eyes on him. 

Hound waited a few moments, but no orders came. If anything, the Hokage seemed like he might have intended to go back to his paperwork. Pack Cat’s file up and let it be forgotten in the drawers until whoever the next unlucky candidate would be for Hokage found them. “He’s wasted in Danzo’s employ,” Hound said after some time. To speak unprompted, and in a manner that an elder could construe as argumentative, wasn’t becoming of an Anbu operative. Hound seldom cared much for needless social construct. Particularly not when it might get in the way of something important. 

The Hokage’s frown now directed at Hound showed his clear displeasure, but Hiruzen responded all the same. “He would be sent on much the same missions as an Anbu as he does now within Root.” 

“Only on the surface.” Hound had mulled over his choices during the conversation between Cat and Hiruzen. He could keep the card up his sleeve for another day, but something bothered him deeply about leaving Cat’s fate up to whatever Danzo might have planned. He couldn’t get the image of oleander petals surrounded by mushroom caps and moss--rotting flesh underneath--out of his head. He found he couldn’t even bring himself to claim it was just the Sharingan causing his memory to replay so clearly. There would be other cards he might play, Hound assured himself. With his past and the victims left in its wake, he knew there would always be more instances where the Council tipped their hand too much. “I’ve been on solo assassinations against targets who were spies, both working for and against us. Danzo never protested except for Gensai when he insisted on sending Cat. Whatever purpose he had for that could’ve been served by any member of Anbu.” 

Hiruzen eyed him as if Hound were the one with ulterior motives. A few years earlier he might’ve taken offense. He’d seen enough now to know it was how Hiruzen always reacted to accusation against Danzo or any other shinobi he’d once been in a team with. Nevermind that Danzo’s whole organization was a cluster of red flags frantically waving. “You believe Danzo to have what reason for doing so, if not one of normal precaution?” 

“I can’t be sure. I fail to see why this particular mission necessitated a second member, and why one from Root rather than a member of my own team, when no other similar missions have. That’s all, Lord Hokage.” Hiruzen’s expression remained unchanged, but Hound knew he had an effect. The unspoken exchange needed no allusions, just as Cat’s appearance on his mission hadn’t either. Why didn’t you ask Danzo what the difference between this mission and the others was when he suggested to send Cat? How willing are you to distrust me that he could play you so easily? When Hiruzen dismissed him a short while later, it was with an order in-hand for Danzo. 

----

The first thing Danzo commanded once Cat returned was to see the mark burned into his tongue. Seals were never a specialty of his, but even Cat knew Danzo would’ve been aware had he tried to go against its purpose. Root’s leader was terribly fond of reminders. I control you. You do not exist save for what motions I tell you to make . After his conversation with the Hokage, it only served to annoy him. Not that he could ever afford to give Danzo reason to believe so. Even the mokuton was expendable when weighed against the absolute loyalty of Root to their leader. Cat couldn’t let 59 lives be wasted on such a foolish whim. 

“Repeat to me your conversation.” 

So Cat did. He remembered every word down to the letter as he’d expected he would need to. Though he left out the emotion his tone had betrayed when speaking of Orochimaru. Danzo’s upset was palpable enough without that particular detail. “You mentioned his role unbidden?” 

It was hardly a question. Danzo wanted a confession, as he always did when an operative displeased him. Cat knew every step to the dance within Root’s inner workings by pure muscle memory. He could predict it in his sleep. “Yes. I believed it best to provide the information that would end his questioning.” 

“I did not ask for your excuses, Cat.” 

Cat bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement of the supposed blunder. Despite his leader’s scowl, Danzo considered the reasoning. Hypocrite . The bitter voice emboldened by his conversation with the Sandaime apparently wasn’t content to leave it at that and return to where it’d been locked up tightly along with the rest of his emotions. Cat muzzled it firmly. 

Danzo appeared to come to a decision. He slowly began to walk around Cat, as if inspecting him. The clack of his cane against stone punctuated each step. “We still have not spoken of your mission with Hound in great detail.” They had. Cat stifled the urge to flinch. Danzo’s choice spelled out nothing pleasant for him. Root’s leader had a temper, a cold bloody thing. Aggravated, disappointed, out-done, with only one person he could pin the blame for it on without consequence. Cat supposed he was to blame. He’d been surprised each time he thought of it to find he didn’t regret it. The loss of control--those damnable pale pink flowers--yes, but not the actions themselves. “From what I understand, you disclosed your ability without due necessity. I gave you no explicit instruction to reveal the mokuton to Hound. You see now the result of your carelessness. Hiruzen will be tempted to react.” Cat sensed Raccoon before the blow landed. A signal undoubtedly given to the Root operative while Danzo had prowled out of Cat’s view. Danzo never did the dirty work himself, not even in this. The blade ran across his back, a clean line between his shoulderblades. He thought of Falcon, head cleaved from their shoulders. There are much worse fates than this. 

----

Fitting that Root would be located in what was essentially an empty sewer, Hound thought. The two operatives who decided to intercept him were fast, flickering to stand in his path with every intent to hold him back if need be. He fought the urge to sigh lest it only aggravate them. Everybody thought they were fast. Many among the upper echelon of shinobi liked to believe they were too fast for the Sharingan. Only Gai truly was, and for obvious reasons Hound knew the other boy would never in a million years be the one facing him down here. Within moments he was past the Root operatives, door slamming behind him as they gathered themselves off the floor. Practicing taijutsu with Guy had its benefits. From there, strangely enough, none of the figures he sensed occasionally nearing him approached or made to stop him. Hound wondered if they simply assumed the odds of him barging in with the intent to disrupt their operation or attack Danzo were too slim to concern themselves with. Maybe they just refused to act without explicit instruction from Danzo on such matters. He couldn’t be sure, and if he were honest he didn’t entirely care at the moment. Finding Cat was easy enough. Between the Sharingan and his sense of smell, it was hard to hide from Hound once he got it in his head to start seeking. The chakra signature he registered near Cat’s as he rounded the final corner made his steps quicken. Malicious and vengeful and the second Hound knocked on the door it flickered with caution, but only for a moment. Hound could pinpoint the exact moment Danzo realized it was him. The man’s signature dimmed to what would on the surface seem to be nothing more than a shinobi at ease, or what passed for ease among their sort. “Enter,” he tersely commanded. Hound obliged. 

Neither Cat or the other Root operative turned to acknowledge him. His gaze didn’t linger on the other boy’s form, no matter how the cuts still red and slowly bleeding demanded his attention. “A notice from the Hokage,” Hound explained with the meager scroll held out for the taking. 

Danzo’s expression didn’t change as he read. He rolled it back up. “Cat will be present at the briefing tomorrow.” 

“He’s needed at headquarters now.” It was a bold-faced lie, but Hound didn’t trust Danzo to be left as the boy’s leader for so much as a half hour longer. It’d taken less time than that from Cat’s arrival at Root’s doorstep for him to bear the burden of Danzo’s outward frustrations. 

The storm of conflict warring in the old man’s mind couldn’t be seen so much as felt. Hound stood resolute. Danzo had no choice and he knew it. There was no suitable excuse he could summon for why Cat couldn’t leave with Hound now. Root operatives had even fewer possessions than Anbu, if any, and if they supposedly had nothing to hide from the Hokage then there was no reason for Cat to be debriefed in any sort of way before leaving. The Sandaime knew Hound was there, he couldn’t simply disappear without question, and the Sharingan combined with Hound’s own skillset made genjutsu or any other such form of distraction a non-issue. “Cat,” he said at last, “you’ve been reassigned to Anbu, under Team Ro. Go.” 

Cat could’ve sworn he felt his heart stop, though he couldn’t tell why. He finally turned to look at Hound and was grateful for the mask hiding his clear confusion. In the past Danzo had entrusted Root operatives with being sent to join Anbu, an internal double-crossing of sorts. This didn’t sound like the same situation. He nodded for lack of anything better to do, and when Hound left he followed close behind.

----

It wasn’t until they were in the Anbu barracks that Cat’s tongue began to work. Hound discarded his Anbu mask and began rustling through a med kit he’d had attached to his belt. “Why did you do that?” Cat’s voice came out far quieter than he’d expected but Kakashi heard him all the same. 

The bingo book picture couldn’t do justice to how it felt having that mismatched gaze focused on him. Being seen through and through in ways even he couldn’t manage when faced with his own reflection. Kakashi answered as if it were the simplest thing, “Why not?” The thoughtful look in his eyes betrayed him, but Cat couldn’t guess as to why it was there. “Sit down,” Kakashi gestured for Cat to sit in front of him on the cot. He obeyed without thinking. The older boy wasn’t Danzo, but he was Cat’s captain now. The reality of it was just now slowly setting in. He felt the tug of a needle and thread in his skin but couldn’t find the strength to react to the pain. He needed all he had left just to stay upright, stay sane. It could’ve been a minute or an hour when Kakashi prompted him to turn around. There weren’t many cuts on his front, but those that’d been left were slightly deeper than those on his back. The sound of Kakashi tapping the cheek of Cat’s mask jarred him back to his senses. “Anbu don’t wear their masks on their own time, and I need to see your face,” the older shinobi explained. 

He could understand why Cat would be distracted, but Kakashi couldn’t forgo checking that his new teammate hadn’t been poisoned or affected in some other manner during Danzo’s punishment. The younger boy’s hand slightly flinched up to his mask in a defensive instinct. There’d been consequences in Root to leaving your face uncovered or letting your mask be removed. Distractions could be lethal. So too could the belief that they were anything more than tools. It was easier to believe when no one could see your face. Any other day Cat wouldn’t have dared hesitate, but the shock and confusion roiling in his system made his judgment hazy. Rationally he knew his captain wasn’t trying to trick him, yet the words spilled from his mouth anyways. “You do, and you saw my face earlier.” 

“That was pre-Danzo,” Kakashi said. Then, in the continuation of a pattern that would follow for the rest of his life, Cat hesitated in surprise at his captain’s next answer. Though he’d not known then exactly how shocked he should’ve been. “I’ll trade you.” 

“What?” 

“Maa, don’t call me a hypocrite then disregard the offer,” he teased. 

“I’m not- I wasn’t-” Cat stuttered for a moment then sighed, “alright.” Aside from the consequences of breaking Danzo’s rules, he’d never had a problem with his face being visible. He knew his eyes were unnerving to most, but he’d long since accepted that as his lot in life. Some people had birthmarks or features that stood out a bit more than the rest of their face. He had “enormous goddamn eyes”. Cat lifted the mask off his face and set it aside. True to his word, Kakashi pulled his down. 

The scar that bisected his left eye ran all the way down his cheek. It only drew Cat’s attention down to a mole near his chin and a set of dimples that appeared when he smiled ever so slightly. “I’m going to touch your face for a moment, don’t bite me,” Kakashi only half-joked. 

Cat couldn’t help but stare at the sharpened teeth on display when Kakashi spoke. The Inuzuka he’d seen didn’t have teeth quite that sharp or canines that large. Wolf would’ve been more accurate than Hound. Cat blamed the lingering shock to his system for his own traitorous mouth. “I think that second part is supposed to be my line.”

Kakashi huffed with amusement. The accompanying smirk only accentuated them further. “Only if you ask nicely.” 

“I’d have to ask nicely to get bitten?” His confusion made Kakashi chuckle quietly. Cat obliged as the older boy gently guided him to turn his head a bit each way. 

“Don’t think about it too hard.” Kakashi let go, yet the warmth of his palms lingered on Cat’s skin, like it’d been imprinted. A distant tingling hummed under his ribs with a similar warmth. Maybe he had been poisoned. “Alright, patched up just like new.” Kakashi smiled and Cat felt himself subtly mirror the gesture, only half out of habit. 

After a moment, however, Kakashi’s expression drifted back to something serious. “I know you don’t have an official one, but is there a name you’ve ever used except Cat?” 

He frowned. The look Kakashi gave him wasn’t disapproving like the Sandaime’s or pitying as one or two Root operatives had been before the sentiment was drilled out of them. It didn’t dig under his skin like an insatiable leech as the others had. “Three for their respective missions.” 

Kakashi hummed in thought for a moment. “Is there one you’d like to be called? Anbu isn’t the same as Root. You’ll interact with shinobi from outside of Anbu and civilians. No matter what you do there’s going to be people who want to talk to you off-duty and Anbu can’t go around saying who they are within it.” He saw the hesitation in Cat’s eyes. It was hard to miss a single thing that passed through them, especially when looking at him up close. “You don’t have to decide now, just think about it.” 

Cat watched in silence, mind churning with thoughts and arguments he knew he’d spend the whole night dwelling over, as Kakashi pulled his own mask back up over the lower half of his face. The older shinobi left his med kit beside Cat. “Keep it for now, in case anything reopens.” Then he paused, his hand on the doorknob and bone-white Hound mask in hand. He glanced back over his shoulder at Cat, the slightest glint of mischief in that one slate grey eye. “Think of it this way; either you pick one for yourself, or you choose whether it’s with or without the mask that I call you Kitten instead.” He left too quickly for Cat to do anything besides stammer at his captain’s back. 

----

It wasn’t until much later when the sun had long since gone down and he’d paced the small room he supposed was meant to be his own that Cat began to take off the rest of his gear. He stared dumbly at the ground as several white flower clusters with pink centers fell out of his arm-guard. Apricot blossom. He thought back to what’d happened that day and all he could pinpoint was when Kakashi’s hands had been on his face. He’d felt a slight tingling then, but nothing so notable that he’d registered it as using chakra. He’d never created something like that out of nowhere, without even realizing it. After a stretch of baffled silence, Cat gathered the crumpled blossoms and placed them on the one small windowsill high up on the wall. For complete lack of anything else to do, he told himself, and did his solid best to forget.