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Chapter Text

It was supposed to be the backup to the backup plan. 

In the privacy of his own head, Shikamaru had actually ranked a dozen plans between backup and this, several of which included his own death. 

Not that it matters now, with the puppets of their friends closing in on them and no escape route in sight. Even with their backs pinned against the wall, he still wants to protest. Unfortunately, Shikamaru had been a pragmatist even before war had stripped him of any vestige of idealism. He leaves the hopes and dreams to Naruto these days. Which is why if anyone is going back to fix things, it should be the man who befriended almost every enemy he had ever made. It should be anybody but the less friendly two thirds of a broken trio. 

And yet here they are anyway, the last leaders of the Allied Shinobi Forces, crouched in a tiny cave on the edge of what was once the Land of Fire, while the handful of ninja still standing try to buy enough time for a last ditch attempt to save the world back before everything went wrong.

 There is Naruto, laying down the last touches of a seal array that required enough chakra to power that it will likely kill even the jinchuriki to do it. 

“Any time, now!” Kakashi calls from the mouth of the cave.

“Going as fast as I can, sensei!” Naruto calls back, an intense look of concentration on his face that pre-genin Shikamaru wouldn’t have believed existed outside of Ichiraku. 

Shikamaru glances at Ino, her dread mirroring his own. If this doesn’t work, it will kill them both – and probably still Naruto – but at least he shouldn’t have to worry about living past her death. He worries anyway, of course. If it does work, all they have to do is save the world and live with themselves. What a drag.

“Naruto!”

“Almost done,” Naruto calls back, not glancing up. Nice of him to try so hard to keep the two of them from ending up in the void. 

“Gotta be now!” Kakashi’s voice is closer now, accompanied by the sound of footsteps echoing through the cave. Naruto sets down his brush, gesturing to the still drying circle of ink. 

Ino grabs his hand as they stepped into the centre. Shikamaru grimaces at his feet, trying to see if he’d smudged any of the wet lines. 

“Take care of each other?” Naruto says, soft and serious in a way that had never suited him.

“Always,” Ino agrees. Shikamaru nods as well, mouth pressed into a thin line. 

The array begins to glow and he meets Kakashi’s eyes. The man jerks his head towards his last student, one more order from their Hokage, look out for him. Like it was ever in question that they would never leave a young Naruto lonely again. Shikamaru nods anyway.

Then there’s only a blinding light, the feeling of Ino’s hand clutched in his, and the sound of Naruto screaming following them into the void. 

•••

There's a moment that stretches into what felt like eternity, floating in empty white nothing. 

He keeps a tight hold of his dearer-than-sister, trying to count the seconds and losing them quickly. 

When the counting fails for the second time – or was it the third? – he switches to plans. This may have been the backup-backup, but it has still been meticulously thought out. Information and cover stories were memorised until they could recite them in their sleep, contingency after contingency was prepared. What if they landed in the wrong time? In the wrong place? What if they were separated? What if only one of them made it? He tries not to dwell too much on that last question now, or at least tries to ignore the part of him that hopes if only one of them made it, it was Ino. It’s a guilty thought, only slightly softened by the knowledge that Ino hopes the same of him. 

He squeezes her hand tighter. No need to focus on that, it won’t be allowed to happen. He refuses. 

“Are we dead?” Ino askes, voice echoing into the vast nothing. 

“If this is what the Pure Lands are like, I want a refund.”

“Could be worse.”

“I had some people I was kind of hoping to see. Figured there’d be clouds to watch at least.” Ino’s laugh is a shade hysterical, but he’ll take what he can get. 

“At least we’re not alone,” she says, tugging him closer until their arms are pressed against each other.

“At least we’re not alone.” They fall into tense silence again, following deep-rooted instincts to stay on guard in uncertain situations. There’s nothing to see, of course, even Ino is more an impression out of the corner of his eye than a solid form. The only thing that feels entirely real is the pressure of her arm against his. 

He shuts his eyes against the nothingness, forcing himself to focus on his other senses and finding them no more help. The moment stretches impossibly, just enough that he’s starting to believe they must really be dead. 

Then just as quickly as the void had consumed them, it recedes.

•••

The pair land in a pile of limbs, not willing to release each other even to roll with the fall. Not until they're sure they’ve made it. The moment things feel solid again, they leap into action. 

Shikamaru scrambles to his feet first, taking in the tiny cave they had just left. Gone are the enemies wearing friends’ faces, gone are the friends as well. Gone is any trace of the seal array that had taken up the majority of the rocky floor. He turns slowly, taking everything in. 

Ino makes her way toward the exit as he scans the inside once more, cataloguing what is really just a nondescript divet in the hillside. A sharp inhale has him at her side immediately, echoing the sound. 

There, stretching out as far as they could see, are trees . Not so dense as they would have been closer to the village, given how far south they are, but still a forest. In the war at the end of the world, the Land of Fire’s legendary forests had been all but extinct. The constant devastation of war was everywhere, and there was never enough time for anything to regrow from the ashes. Kaguya seemed determined to take out the shinobi’s every advantage, and Madara before her had been vindictive in his destruction of anything he considered to be part of the Senju legacy. To see the forest stretched out in front of them, budding and green and lush with the new growth of spring, is almost to much to comprehend. 

“Okay,” Shikamaru says absently, leaning his back against the outer wall of their cave. “ Now we’re dead.” he stares at a sky full of wispy clouds, unclogged by ash, too transfixed to dodge Ino’s light swat.

“We’re not dead, idiot,” she murmurs, looking just as awed as he feels despite the protest. “It worked.” 

“It worked,” he repeats, hoping that would make it seem more real. It doesn't.

“It actually worked. Holy shit, Shikamaru, it worked!” the words circle through his head and absently he pulls out one of two precious cigarettes he keeps in the pocket of his vest. There hasn’t been a lot of time to smoke in the end of the world, so he at least has one left to celebrate with. 

He slides down the wall of the cave to sit on the soft green grass, dragging Ino down with him. She pulls his lighter from her own vest – confiscated by a pink-haired mednin not long before she died – and lights it for him. 

“Sakura would wring your neck if she knew you were enabling me,” he whispers, staring at the sky and pulsing his chakra once just to be certain. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Ino quips back with a sad smile.

“Do you know the odds of this working?”

“I assume they’re not good.”

“A thousand to one, at least.”

“A thousand to one,” Ino muses. “Same odds the Yondaime faced, right? In the battle that made his name.”

“All this time focusing on the Uzumaki blood and we forgot he’s half Namikaze too.” Ino snorts in response, but lets him finish his smoke in silence. “It worked.”

“It did.”

“Thanks, Naruto,” he says into the clean, spring air. He sends up a quick prayer that whatever corner of the Pure Lands the number one unpredictable knucklehead ninja ended up in looked something like this, then pushes to his feet.

“Let’s go home” Ino says, and they go.

They allow themselves the luxury of a walk, at least for now. Once they reach more travelled routes they’ll be launching from tree to tree, but for now they can afford grass and fallen leaves under their sandals. “Do you think we’re in the right time.”

“We left Naruto in charge of the math.” Shikamaru answers dryly.

Chapter Text

They are not in the right time. They are, admittedly, close enough. The first town they pass through is still close enough to Wave for word of Gato's schemes to cross the border. On the same token, there's been no word of the project that became the Great Naruto Bridge. That puts them somewhere in the year before their academy graduation.

The original aim had been the third war, sometime before Kannabi Bridge. Early enough to prevent Obito’s abduction entirely. That time had been discarded when Naruto had determined how much chakra that would require. Maybe if Killer B were still alive, but it was out of reach by then. At most, Naruto said he could give them fifteen years. They had aimed to land between academy graduation and the chunin exams. Enough time to stop the first major domino from falling with Orochimaru’s attack, not enough to lose the edge of their knowledge as things started changing in response to them. 

As far as Ino’s concerned, it's better too early than too late. Shikamaru is getting visibly bored and clearly craving nicotine, but it’s still the best either of them has looked in years. 

The Nara perks up when they catch their first glimpse of the Konoha’s gates. He starts to prepare for their cover story, pulling out a perfectly forged third war era document courtesy of a life-long prankster. Ino is absently checking her gear, but mostly she’s taking the moment to bask. Those gates had meant safety her entire life, they still feel like safety now. Like nothing bad can happen inside them, even knowing as she does now that it can. So she lets Shikamaru fuss with the scrolls and try to keep the patented Nara cool, and lets herself drift for a second on the feeling of thousands of chakra signatures at rest. 

Even from outside the gates she can identify Naruto and Kurama twined together at the academy. The pre-storm ozone of Kakashi is pretending to sleep in a tree across the street, she knows from years of the man’s quirks that he can probably see Naruto through the academy window. Asuma-sensei’s summer-morning-breeze is on top of the wall on the far side of the village, patrolling with Raidou and Genma. She doesn’t recognize the signatures of the gate guard, proving for once that Izumo and Kotetsu were occasionally allowed to go home. 

“Strangers,” she murmurs to Shikamaru, so he knows what to expect when they get there. Their plan of entry is more straightforward than either usually opt for, but Shikamaru is convinced it has the best chance of success. Given he’s probably forgotten more about tactics than she’ll ever know, she’s happy to go along with the plan. 

Anko-san had taught her a couple ways to sneak out of T&I over the years, if things go really sideways. 

Here's the thing. Between Orochimaru’s invasion and the akatsuki's attack on Gaara, there were almost three years of tense waiting. For all of that time, Shikamaru was a chunin (for a good portion of it, so was Ino). 

With a lot of tension came more border patrols, more courier missions, more attempts to secure the peace. But, for new chunin too young to pass for proper diplomats and too green to be trusted with solo missions, it also meant a lot of time sitting in the village gatehouse, checking IDs.

During graveyard shifts as bored teens, flipping through infraction manuals was something to do just to stay awake. It was ‘hey do ANBU have two cards? Does one just have a picture of their mask?’ And ‘did you know identification has to be stored in specific pockets? Doesn't Naruto keep his in that dumb frog wallet?’ As adults infiltrating their own home, those nights now translate into an encyclopaedic knowledge of gatehouse procedure and etiquette.

So when the gate comes into view, Ino hangs back a half step behind her partner, watching his back. Shikamaru approaches the gate, waving lazily at the guards. The guards wave back, looking the pair over with obvious concern.

They're both thin from years of not enough to go around, hard-eyed and scarred. Ino isn't worried, they've built their backstory so that their appearance is supporting evidence rather than standing out more.

“afternoon!” Calls a tall kunoichi with dark hair, leaning against the counter of the gatehouse.

“Hey,” Shikamaru says in an absent way Naras must learn from birth. He sets their forged paperwork on a pile specifically marked for long-term mission return before pulling a incredibly battered identity card from the wrong pocket of his vest. Ino sets her own slightly more presentable card beside it.

Anyone away from the village for more than 6 months, whether on mission or for civilian business, is expected to either have a writ from the Hokage testifying their purpose or to fill out a stack of forms detailing their activities. Most ninja had the express written permission attached to their original mission assignment. Most civilians spent an hour filling out a metric tonne of paperwork. 

Lucky for the two time travellers, while their Hokage's word doesn't mean much here, he did know how to forge the signature of one whose did.

The kunoichi squints at the form for a moment, then waves them through with no comment. “Welcome back.” 

Her shift partner pushes himself up from his chair, moving slowly over to look at their form while suppressing a cough. The pair collect their IDs and take about three steps, neither one acknowledging the man they now recognize as Hayate, before he calls after them. 

“Wait a minute.” He says. Ino approaches the desk again, while Shikamaru shoves his hands in his pockets and stays waiting where he is.

“Lazy ass,” Ino murmurs for the benefit of the gate guard, even though he really hasn’t been anything of the sort in years. “Something wrong?” 

Hayate opens his mouth to answer, but the unfamiliar kunoichi speaks before he can. She'd started scanning the form desperately when he stopped them, trying to see what she missed. 

“This isn't the Hokage's signature,” she declares. “That's a forgery, how dare you? Who are you really? What business do you have in –”

“Kimmi, breathe.” Hayate cuts in before she can get around to threatening loyal Konoha shinobi.

“but it's not –”

“Yes it is,” Ino growls, and it's not even a lie. It's a perfect forgery of Namikaze Minato’s signature, for one thing, and that Kimmi can't recognize the yondaime's handwriting is hardly Ino’s problem. But, it was also done by Kakashi’s hand, and she won't disrespect the man who never wanted the seat in the first place by letting some random chunin deny it’s legitimate.

“is not!” Kimmi retorts, sounding more  like a pre-genin than a full shinobi.

“it is,” says Hayate mildly, putting one hand to his chest to ward off another coughing fit. He gives her a smile that’s all understanding and makes her heart ache. He was one of the first people we lost when it all started, Ino thinks. Hopefully he's one of the first they can save, this time. “not the sandaime's, but still a Hokage's.”

“What?”

“You've been gone a long time,” Hayate says, ignoring the teenage chunin with the practice of someone who's spent years intermittently stuck in the village with greenhorns.

“twelve years,” Ino says, and it doesn't feel like a lie. Twelve years since this moment in time, eleven or so since peace like this. She glances over her shoulder at Shikamaru, who is staring at the village with a reverence he can't quite cover up as boredom. 

Hayate follows her gaze, eyes twinkling as he sees through the ruse. “Welcome home,” he says far more sincerely than Kimmi had. “Hokage-sama will want you to report there immediately. Show this to whoever is manning the missions desk. Tell them Hayate sent you if they ask.” He offers her the writ and she tucks it into her vest. 

Ino's smile is a lot more misty as she turns back towards the village, but the tokubetsu doesn't call her on it, just starts softly schooling Kimmi on how to handle their sort of situation.

“ Another stop?” Shikamaru grumbles like being sent directly to Hokage tower wasn't ‘plan A’. 

She knocks his shoulder as they head out, not quite able to conjure enough ire to scold him now. Not with their home stretching ahead of them, safe and whole. “did she really think the writ was a forgery?” Her partner asks, like a cocky idiot. 

“It's good to be wary.”

“It's good to cut off your superior? Or is it good to antagonise a potential enemy without calling for backup?”

“Would you be happier if she'd called ANBU down on our heads?” He scowls at that.

“If she thought we were a genuine threat, yeah.” Shikamaru grumbles, eyes scanning the crowds as they enter the city centre. 

“Didn't know you were such a stickler for rules.” 

“Excuse me if I prefer the people guarding my home to know how to do their jobs,” he snaps back. It's not really about the chunin at the gate, and they both know it. Rather than push the issue, Ino puts a comforting hand on his arm.

“She's young, Shika, and it's peacetime. It was a mistake, and it was caught. Everything is fine.” 

“Whatever,” he says, but some of the tension bleeds out of his frame and the glimpse of a wartime commander is once again hidden by a slouching chunin.

Ino had felt Naruto's overwhelming chakra drifting out of school as they talked to Hayate, floating around the schoolyard a while before heading towards that terrible apartment, and so she knows logically that school must be out for the day. None of that prepares her for the sight of Iruka-sensei behind the missions desk when they enter hokage tower. Shikamaru twitches beside her, but manages to avoid fully flinching.

Most of the rookie nine had still been around when Kiba found their beloved teacher's body in a ditch. Back when there had still been time to mourn, as much as there ever is in war. No one was more affected than Naruto, of course, who lost a brother. Still, every one of them had known Iruka most of their lives, had learned much of what they knew of being a ninja from him. None of them were ever quite the same after his loss.

Iruka-sensei looks right at Ino, brow furrowing in confusion but no recognition, and she very valiantly does not burst into tears. Instead she squares her shoulders and marches up to him, the writ Hayate had given back in hand. 

“hello,” Ino says, offering him the paper. “Yamanaka Inoka and Nara Shikami returning from extended duty.” it's a risk, keeping the Ino and the Shika. As much as the names are associated with the main family lines, they do get used by branch family members sometimes. Still, both names cropping up together in this way is rare enough to garner attention they really don't need. 

They keep them anyway. Their world is gone, their friends are gone, who could blame them for holding on to a little familiarity. Besides, they're two thirds of Ino-Shika-Cho, they would never have been able to give that up. 

If Iruka is surprised by their names it doesn't show, but his eyes do widen when he gets to the signature. Ino doubts he ever met the yondaime, but Iruka-sensei never did do anything in halves. No doubt he knows the rulebook as well as either of them. “how was mist?” He asks, handing their paper to a runner. 

“Wet,” Shikamaru replies at the same time Ino says: 

“Violent.” They glance at each other. “Unpleasant,” Ino adds, in case the picture wasn't clear enough. Iruka chuckles softly.

“There go my vacation plans.”

“I hear Wind is lovely this time of year,” Ino suggests, ignoring Shikamaru's unimpressed eyes. 

“If you like scorching hot deserts,” he drawls, shaking his head at the teacher. 

“Always the incurable optimist, Shika.” Ino rolls her eyes. “I didn't catch your name,” she says to the man who taught her to hold a kunai.

“Umino Iruka,” he says, returning her polite smile. The runner reappears, beckoning the two to follow. “Nice meeting you,” Iruka says, turning to help the spectacularly muddy genin team that has just entered.

“You too!” Ino calls back, heading after the runner with Shika on her heels. On to the most delicate step. 

Directly across the hall from the Hokage's office is the jonin commander's, and while the Hokage's is frequently closed, Ino can count on one hand the times she's seen Shikaku's any less than ajar. Given that the Hokage's current appointment involves a Nara he knows for a fact doesn't exist, the door is wide open when they get there. 

The good news is, they expected Shikaku to see them first – had banked on it, really. Shikamaru had assured them multiple times when they were planning this contingency that it would be fine, he could handle seeing his dead father without giving up the lie. He had reassured Ino half a dozen times in the days of travel since they landed in the past. 

Because Ino knows her friend better than she knows herself at this point, all of this careful planning and grim certainty means that she isn't the slightest bit surprised when Shikamaru freezes the moment his eyes meet his father's. She elbows him in the ribs, hard, and flashes a hand sign at the jonin commander that it would go against sixteen generations of inter-clan cooperation to ignore. 

By Ino, Shikamaru, and Choji's iteration of Ino-Shika-Cho, the Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi clans had long started prioritising cooperation over maintaining individuality from each other. The clan heads are loyal to the village first, undoubtedly, but to each other a close second. They honour their past together and trust their futures to each other. 

That means that when Ino makes the signs for ‘play along’ and ‘area compromised’ in a heavily modified dialect of Konoha shinobi sign that only heads or heirs of the three allied clans should know, Shikaku respects their history enough to not immediately denounce the pair as frauds. 

They only need that second of pause, given how clever they know Shikaku to be. He narrows his eyes at Ino, looking her up and down before returning his gaze to his son. Shikamaru, rather than the cursory glance Ino had apparently warranted, he studies inch by inch.

After what felt like a decade, there is a tiny nod. Shikaku signs ‘request for further information’ and slouches back in his seat. 

“You'll have to fill me in on your trip when the sandaime is done with you.” Read: you will tell me what the fuck is happening. Ino shrugs. 

Shikamaru still isn't moving, so she elbows him again. It works this time, at least enough for him to shoot her a nasty look and say:

“Of course, I'm sure we have a lot of catching up to do.” Read: we'll tell you what the fuck is happening, but, later.  Which appears to be enough to satisfy the jonin commander. 

“I'll contact Inoichi, he'll want to know you're back.” Ino nods, swallowing hard. “We thought you were dead, you know.” Before either of them can respond to build on the lie Shikaku offers, the runner clears her throat. She looks distinctly awkward to be interrupting the moment, so Ino takes pity on her.

“Sorry, sorry. We shouldn't keep the Hokage waiting.” when Shikamaru makes no move to follow she grabs him by the shoulder and yanks. 

“Kami, woman, I'm gonna be covered in bruises.” He grumbles, but he comes along regardless. Ino will take the win where she can get it.

“You'll be fine.” 

Whatever her friend might have responded is cut off as they enter the Hokage's office, Bowing respectfully. 

The door clicks shut as the runner leaves, and they're alone with the third hokage. 

•••

Sarutobi Hiruzen is a complicated subject.

For most of his childhood, Shikamaru didn't put much thought into the man. He was the hokage, he had always been the hokage, the village was mostly in one piece so he must have been doing a good job.

He knew Naruto's relationship with the man was strange, but even as an academy student it was obvious to Shikamaru that every one of Naruto's relationships was strange. 

Once team ten had been assigned to Asuma, well, they had all loved their sensei. All of them were smart enough to see the gulf between father and son, and it had left the trio jaded toward the legend of a man. 

After the disaster of their chunin exams, Shikamaru had even less faith in the man who had apparently allowed Orochimaru free rein for years out of some weird favouritism. At that point he was already dead, though, and Asuma-sensei was grieving. Shikamaru had kept his thoughts to himself.

Still, it isn't personal grudges that motivate the time travellers to lie to the hokage. No, the decision to keep him in the dark is one of the first ones they made when considering time travel. They didn't know how involved Hiruzen was in the events leading to the Uchiha massacre, nor how much he really knew about Danzo and ROOT.  

Orochimaru is proof of how much the man would turn a blind eye to for the sake of people he cared about, and for all Naruto had a soft spot for his surrogate grandfather, even he acknowledged that the man had too many secrets.

Standing in front of the man now, Shikamaru lets himself sink into his mission mindset. 

It's one thing to freeze in the face of his father – even if Ino is going to hold it over his head forever – but for all he's loyal to the leaf, he's also on a mission the sandaime could seriously hinder. Shikamaru keeps his expression bored, his posture terrible, and focuses. 

Ino's presence is somewhere on the edge of his awareness, ready to link minds if she needs to. She probably won't, though, they've prepared for this.

“Hokage-sama,” they both say, kneeling before him. He gestures for them to rise, looking more the kindly grandfather than the military dictator. It's a look Shikamaru has only ever seen before the man breaks bad news. So far so good. 

“Please, sit. You must be exhausted.” They sit, Ino perching while Shikamaru slumps back into his chair. “Twelve years in the Land of Water, hm?” 

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Ino says smoothly. There's no mission assignment for him to check, no way to know how long they were supposedly gone. Word travels fast from the gate.

“A long time away. Tell me, did your mission go smoothly?”

“Ah, as well as can be expected, sir.” 

“Given the situation in Mist at the moment, there was plenty of information to be gathered, sir.” Shikamaru tacked on.

“A successful mission, then, despite much worse circumstances than expected. I know information in and out of Water is sparse since the Bloody Mist era began. Where were you depositing your information?” 

Shikamaru wouldn't need his genius level intellect to see the leader fishing for information, even if he didn't already know Hiruzen was talking out of his ass. There's no room to question the hokage, certainly not as a chunin, so he just lets scepticism thread through his expression and stays silent.

“An inn on the southern edge of Mist, sir. The three-eyed toad. We left packages for Ami-chan.” the place is Jiraiya's favoured contact in Water, and all of the procedure is ripped from Naruto's memory of travelling with the spymaster. 

Jiraiya has enough informants throughout the elemental nations to not know every individual personally, even moreso with info for ‘Ami-chan’ being the mark of a Konoha shinobi undercover. 

The story must be plausible enough, given the hokage relaxes just a shade and nods. “I assume you have kept yourselves apprised of news coming out of Konoha, during your years away?”

In the early years of their team, when Ino and Shikamaru decidedly did not get along yet but were willing to pretend for Choji's sake, Shikamaru had perfected the art of carrying on a polite conversation while wishing he were anywhere else. He puts the skill to good use, now.

“Information is slow to Kiri, sir, but I believe we are aware of all major events.” the Nara says. Ino appears to be practising the same art, given she doesn't so much as glance at him in commiseration.

The cover story is in place, and neither remaining member of team ten particularly wants to spend any more time alone with the only hokage they've ever doubted. 

“you've heard of the Kyuubi attack, of course.” 

“yes, sir,” Ino confirms. 

“then you will have to accept my sincerest apologies. During the attack, one of the buildings destroyed housed the records to a number of long-term assignments. Your assignment appears be one of the ones we could not recover.” They sit in silence for a long moment at that. 

The files weren't lost, in the end. Or, not all of them. Danzo had some, has them even now, and used them to procure new ‘talent’ for ROOT in the aftermath of the Kyuubi attack. Who better to go missing than soldiers expected to be gone for years with no record of where. 

Yet another atrocity that came out when the ancient slimeball of a bloodline thief had finally bit it. 

Whether Hiruzen knows he's just lied to them or not remains to be seen, but the lost files story works in their favour. It had been a nice stroke of luck when planning for landing in this range of time. 

“Our…” Ino clears her throat, voice thick with emotion. It's a very good act from the terrifying woman, Shikamaru is so glad she's on his side. “Our mission assignment was…lost?”

“I'm afraid so, Inoka-kun. You would certainly have received more frequent guidance otherwise.” Shikamaru resists the urge to laugh. Chunin spies in the Bloody Mist? They would've been pulled out before Zabuza had even considered his coup. 

Ino had better be thankful for his tact, because instead of pointing any of this out, he just murmurs: “he thought I was dead.” 

“What was that, Shikami-kun?” 

“I'm sorry, sir. Just something Shikaku-sama said as we passed his office. He told me that he'd thought us dead.” Shikamaru forgoes the delicate emotions Ino is showing. He doesn't have the acting skills she does, and it's not how he would react anyway. 

“Ah, yes. I thought that may be the case. He mentioned there was no living Nara by your name.” The wording is an incredible bit of luck, especially given Shikamaru has been assuming all of his luck for the year had gone into actually managing time travel. 

Before either of them can respond, there's a knock at the door. “Enter,” the hokage calls. A different runner opens the door, bowing low. 

“Nara Shikaku and Yamanaka Inoichi as requested, hokage-sama.” 

“Yes, thank you, Yusuke-kun.”  The clan heads sketch bows, then Inoichi has his arms around Ino. 

The Nara men are not nearly so overt in their affection, but Shikaku comes to stand behind Shikamaru's chair and the younger man feels some of the tension drain from his bones with his father at his back. 

“Apologies, hokage-sama,” Inoichi says, once he's drawn back to stand beside Ino, one hand rested on her shoulder. 

“Not at all, strong emotions are only to be expected given the circumstances.” The Hokage's eyes seem to twinkle and Shikamaru is uncomfortably certain that it's the same look he gives Naruto, before sending him back to that terrible, empty apartment. “Now then, I'm sure you're eager to spend time with your families. To be clear, Shikaku, are you revising your beliefs on the status of one Nara Shikami?” 

“The evidence is before my eyes, sir.” Says the slippery bastard. The hokage smiles, then turns to Inoichi. 

Tsunade would have pushed the issue. Shikamaru thinks, and doesn't realise how far into his head Ino is until she responds. 

Never content to let things go our way, are you? Shikamaru elects to ignore her completely. 

“And Inoichi, is the woman in front of you Yamanaka Inoka?” Inoichi nods. 

“She is, indeed, sir.” He confirms. 

At least my dad didn't lie. Shikamaru quips. 

Don't make me hit you again. With that she pulls out of his head completely. 

Chapter Text

After a brief but tedious discussion of logistics, the quartet leave the Hokage's office.

 Ino and Shika will have to return the next day for the bulk of their mission pay – the rate is a little stingy in her opinion, but a nice boon given they haven't actually been on mission – and new documentation. The pictures on the fake IDs are from their academy graduation, to stay consistent with the story of wartime chunin leaving the village at twelve, and the rest of their paperwork is believed to have disappeared during the kyuubi attack. What a shame.

In the meantime, they're free to go – at least as far as the Hokage is concerned. 

In reality, they're marched to the office attached to the poisonous plant greenhouse on the Yamanaka compound – a room so full of security and privacy seals that she can feel them pulsing in the air.

In another life this was Ino's study, once her med-nin training and time spent with Anko-san had culminated in a penchant for poisons. But the Ino of here and now is only a pre-genin, so the little cube of a room is still a spare office that can double as a panic room if needed. 

It's not an interrogation room, not quite, but its proximity to the poison plant greenhouse does give it a certain spooky factor. They sit in comfortable armchairs, Ino and Shikamaru across from their fathers, and Shikaku leans forward to study them. 

“Explain,” he growls, and for a moment she's five and has taken kitchen shears to Shikamaru's hair in revenge for refusing to play ninja with her. She doesn't say anything, just looks to her oldest friend to take the lead. 

“Time travel,” Shika says evenly. 

“How?” Shikaku answers without missing a beat.

“A seal array,” he replies. “Twelve years into the past.”

“It's impossible.”

“Not with an Uzumaki seal master on your side.”

“There are no Uzumaki seal masters left.” Shikamaru gives his father an unimpressed blink, and nothing more. “Naruto? Bullshit.” 

While the Nara spit back and forth, Ino has an entire conversation with her father in facial expressions. 

The gist of it is this: 

Ino rolls her eyes at their geniuses. Inoichi blinks long and slow, pressing a sigh through tight lips.  

Inoichi raises one eyebrow at the method of their travel, to which Ino purses her lips and raises one right back. 

Inoichi squints, studying a scar running across her cheek and the left half of her nose. Ino's eyes soften in reassurance. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, not blinking, then Inoichi nods.

“I'd like concrete proof,” her father says right over an argument about math and fuinjutsu theory that's brewing. “But I believe you.” 

“Mindwalk me,” Ino offers instantly, before Shikamaru has the chance to.

“Ino,” her friend growls. Neither of them want to relive the memories, of course, not even in a controlled setting. Of the two choices, however, Ino has at least some mindscape training from her work in T&I. Shikamaru does not. She's the better choice and they both know it.

Her father seems to understand this, because although he frowns he doesn't condescend her by asking if she's sure. There's no better way to confirm their story, and she knows her father. 

Shikaku would be able to follow his intuition, to lay out the facts and trust where they lead. A commander, a strategist has to act on incomplete information all the time.

But Yamanaka Inoichi didn't become the head of T&I by settling for most of the story. He would trust them, help however he could, and never be able to fully kill his doubt.

Ino simply will not accept that. Neither will her dad. Instead he sits fully back in the chair and meets her eyes. 

“Ready, clover?” Ino quirks a smile at the nickname and nods. Then there's the sensation of falling, and the room around her melts away. 

•••

They land soft atop a grassy hill. Above them, a big tree stretches out, shading them from the hot midday sun. It's almost Shikamaru's cloud watching hill in the Nara forest, except instead of the centre of the woods it's sitting in the place of the hokage monument.

It's a nice place, even if it used to be covered in flowers. Not perfect, but still nice. She's proud of it, and given how much time she spends poking around in other people's heads she needs her own psyche strong.

Her father glances around appreciatively. “Peaceful,” he murmurs, settling into the grass beside her. “I admit I wasn't expecting peaceful.” 

“No?” Ino has managed to will up some dandelions. She begins weaving them into a chain, just to have something to do with her hands. She'd meant to grow daisies, but her mindscape can be harsh, and the hearty yellow weeds ask for so little to thrive. The dandelions are perfectly fine. 

“I know how war sits on a person's shoulders. I see it in the two of you.” 

Ino nods, then jerks her chin towards the village stretching out below them. It's easy to see how he missed it, at first glance things seem almost normal from so high above. 

On closer examination, though, the colourful buildings and wide streets of Konoha resolve themselves into carnage. The rubble is equally colourful as the buildings it started as, though spattered with blood and ink. 

Ino doesn't think there was really so much ink when the village fell, but her subconscious feels Sai's loss as keenly as the moment he fell. 

The wide streets are empty and pocked with craters, gashes cutting through her ruined home more than pathways.

Inoichi inhales sharply at the view. He should have seen it faster, really. Maybe his brain filled in the gaps with what he expected the village to look like. Maybe Ino's need to not focus on all the loss leaves it blurry even here.

Now is hardly the time to contemplate her mental state. She focuses on the dandelions. 

Over. Under. Around.

“Ino, sweetheart, what happened ?” whispers her father. Where does she start with that? 

Over. Under. Around.

“War. Destruction. The end of the world.” Always best to rip the bandage off, right?

“The end of the world,” he says faintly. “You lost, then? This war that’s coming, we lose?” 

Over. Under. Around. The chain is getting pretty long. “Ino?” She should weave the ends in soon, maybe start a second crown. “Clover. Look at me.” 

Her hands keep moving, but she glances at her father. He looks sad, and tired. She hasn't shown him anything yet, but he's already grieving.

“Talk to me.”

“We lost, all right. We lost everything.” It's twilight now, and in the darkness other forms flicker on the hillside. Corpses, the bodies of her best friend, her teammate, her sensei, her parents, the love of her life. They're not quite solid, never real enough to touch. If the way her father stiffens is any indication, he recognizes some of them anyway. 

She sets the finished crown down in gap to her right where Sakura should be and gets to work on another one. Over. Under. Around. 

Over. Under. Around. 

Gradually, the sunshine returns.

“He's more broken than he lets on.” She says, once the world is under control again. Inoichi stays silent, she doesn't look. She doesn't want to know what she would see. “Shika has a better head for details and dates, but I won't let him relive that. So you'll have to make do with me.”

Her father says nothing for a while, long enough for Sakura's crown to meld with the grass, springing up into a ring of yellow weeds growing tall and strong. She's just reaching to deposit another crown at the edge of the shade where Choji liked to soak up the sun when he breaks the silence. 

“I won't make you relive their losses, sweetheart. I know there are happy moments that prove your story true.” happy proof. It's a novel concept, and it probably says too much about their particular brand of trauma that neither she nor Shika had considered it. 

Ino sets down the dandelions gingerly, lying back where a ring seems to have sprouted of its own accord just behind her. Sai always did love a craft project. She looks up at the canopy of branches, at the patches of blue sky beyond it, and lets herself remember happy things. 

They float through her first meeting with Sakura, through the day she got her hitai ate. They watch her manage the first shaky mind transfer, and see a very young Ino-Shika-Cho leave Asuma-sensei with the bill at the Yakiniku Q. They trail a freshly chunin Ino and Anko-san as they sneak out of T&I to get dango in the middle of a work day.

Then, because Ino is neither cowardly nor naive enough to believe it can be avoided, she shows him Kaguya. Shows him the way the shinobi alliance rose to fight her and the way it wasn't enough. 

She walks him through the akatsuki, and Danzo's ROOT – though she's grimly pleased when his curses of the council man's crimes are born of frustration rather than shock. 

She takes him to the moment a mad cap plan to go back in time is formed, and mostly doesn't flinch at the bodies of her friends laid out in the background.

Finally Ino shows her father the end, huddled in a cave with the remnants of team seven. Lets him hear Naruto's ‘take care of each other’ and see Kakashi’s last request. 

When it's all over they land back on the hill. The fireflies are out, and the twilight is welcoming rather than ominous. 

“Is it enough?” She asks. 

“It's plenty. Plenty, Ino. Thank you for showing me.”

“It wasn't so bad,” she murmurs “not much time to dwell on the good lately.”

“I'm proud of you.”

“It wasn't enough.”

Inoichi pushed his lips into a flat line. “Maybe not. But you keep getting back up. So I'm proud.” And really, what is Ino supposed to do with that? Burst into tears?

“Thanks,” is what she settles for. That doesn't feel like enough either. She's not certain anything would. A single daisy blooms among the dandelions, so she must be doing something right.

•••

The Yamanaka are absent a long while. Objectively, Shikamaru knows it's a good thing, it means Ino is handling the trip well enough. He's not in the business of underestimating his friend – if Ino decides they're done there's nothing Inoichi could do to stop her – and he trusts his uncle. 

Shikamaru isn't panicky, or really even nervous. He's just a little twitchy.

“That bad?” Shikaku asks, evidently sick of the silent fidgeting. 

“Hm?”

“You didn't want her to go under. You were gearing up to argue with a Yamanaka over a mindwalk. ” Right. That. So far today they're at Ino 2 - Shikamaru 0. “Whatever happened. Whatever you came back to fix, it was that bad?”

“Worse, probably, than whatever you're picturing.”

“Worse than war on a scale where the only way to win is to stop it before it starts?” Shikamaru hums, looking his father in the eye. 

“You lived through the second war, you fought in the third.”

“I did.” 

“Two wars in your lifetime alone, with grudges that still hold strong to this day.” Shikaku nods along. “The fourth shinobi war is a bit of a misnomer. 

“Oh?” 

“the first three wars were between the villages. The fourth war was the villages against a deity.”

“A God.”

“A goddess, technically. Kaguya, the mother of chakra.” 

“You fought a goddess. ”

“We lost to a goddess, it wasn't much of a fight.” the younger Nara would very much like to get off of this topic. Now. 

“You made it through.”

“I got lucky.”

“you survived.”

“At what cost?” Shikamaru snaps, shooting to his feet. “Who's an acceptable loss, oh jonin commander?”

“Shikamaru–”

“How many strangers was it worth for my life? Which friends?” His hands are shaking, his blood is boiling, and Ino's not conscious enough to ground him before he says something he doesn't mean. It's not a mistake he's interested in making twice. 

Shikamaru turns on his heel, heading for the door. 

“Son, come back.”

“I…” he shakes his head, swallowing hard. He rubs a hand over his eyes and sees a flash of pink hair. “No, no. I'm being irrational. I need some air. I need– I can't, okay?”

“Shikamaru–”

“I'll come by the compound. I just… I need a smoke or…something. I'll be around.” He's out the door before his father can get anything else out, shunshining out of the Yamanaka compound before he can be followed.

•••

He ends up at Ichiraku, of all places. The little ramen stand isn't personally sentimental, per se, but it is an unmistakable landmark of the leaf village. With the memories of destruction floating in the corners of his eyes, he needs the grounding influence.

And maybe some part is sentiment, drifting up to the counter to sit on a stool at one end. If it is, though, it's a fondness born from Naruto's stories. 

This is the only place Naruto never had a bad word to say about. Even in the quiet nights where the grief weighed on every one of them, Ichiraku Ramen featured in Naruto's stories as a place of light. 

Somewhere along the way it had begun to feel like a beacon of the best times, something to cling to when it was hard to remember what peace felt like. 

Shikamaru orders a bowl of shoyu ramen with the week's advance the mission office had doled out while they calculated their full pay, and basks in the warmth of the night until his hands stop shaking. 

Teuchi has the bearing of a bartender, far too sharp with a knowing glint in his eyes when he approaches Shikamaru as he eats. “Hard mission?” He doesn't sound surprised. 

The Nara shrugs, staring into the mostly empty bowl. Teuchi sets a second bowl in front of him. “On the house.”

“That's not necessary.” It comes out ruder than he means it. The old man doesn't so much as twitch.

“Necessary? No, but I'm doing it anyway.”

“Thank you,” Shikamaru says, and means for the slack as much as the food. He pauses, then adds: “It was.” It immediately feels like saying too much.

“Hm?”

“The mission,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “It was hard.” Teuchi nods, takes his now empty bowl, and lets companionable quiet settle around them.

It's far from silent, with the buzz of a village in motion around him, but it's better that way. Shikamaru craved silence all his life, peace and quiet to think and sleep. Then he heard true, lifeless silence. He's been trying to avoid it ever since.

Shikamaru is deep in his own head, reminiscing in an attempt to quell the waking nightmares in his periphery. He blames this fact for failing to notice the scrawny ball of sunshine that is child Naruto until he's sitting down two stools away. He's absent Iruka tonight, the chunin is probably still on duty at the missions office. 

Seeing Naruto drives all the air from Shikamaru's lungs, but he forces himself not to show it. Any reaction of recognition or shock will likely be interpreted as hostility.

“Hey, old man! Gimme three bowls of miso ramen!” Teuchi laughs, eyes flickering to Shikamaru. He raises his eyebrows at the look, like he can't imagine what the shop owner would be worried about.

Apparently satisfied he won't cause trouble, Teuchi focuses on making Naruto's dinner.

The time traveller eats quietly while Naruto chatters on about his day, and school, and– 

“Hey, Mister, you look like Shikamaru.” He briefly weighs the benefits of sinking directly into the ground with an earth jutsu and sighs, glancing up from his food.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, do you know him?” Naruto asks around a mouthful of noodles.

“Shikamaru, huh? He a Nara?”

“Um, yeah.” Naruto seems to catch up to the fact that he's talking to a complete stranger, fidgeting a little in his seat.

“Guess he must be my cousin or something.  Can't say we've met, though. Friend of yours?”

“He's in my class.”

“How old are you?”

Naruto narrows his eyes “why?” 

“Just curious, kid. I just got off a long mission. Doubt you were even born when I left.”

“I'm eleven.”

“Eleven, that's a good age. Graduating soon?” Naruto finally pauses his eating, most of the way through his second bowl.

“Yeah, soon. I didn't get it this time but I'll get it next year for sure and be so strong they'll have to make me hokage! Believe it!”

The declaration is loud, and ridiculous, and so incredibly Naruto it startles a laugh out of him. 

“I believe it, kid.”

“yeah?” the brightly coloured child seems thrown by his faith, but recovers quickly enough. “Yeah! Of course you do! You're super smart for sure, Nara-san.” Teuchi, who has routinely heard Naruto call ‘old man’ over the years, mouths ‘Nara-san’ like he can't quite wrap his head around it. 

Shikamaru ruffles Naruto's hair and politely ignores the way the kid flinched just before he made contact. 

“Shikami's fine.”

“Sure, Shikami-san.” 

Shikamaru comes to the horrible conclusion that all Naruto actually needs from adults by this age is a scrap of basic human decency. A little bit of respect and the kid is looking at him with stars in his eyes. “Do I get to know the future Hokage's name?”

“Uzumaki Naruto, don’t forget it!” He stacks up the third empty bowl.

“Uzumaki, huh? Nice to meet you.” Shikamaru pushes to his feet, setting a couple of bills down on the counter. “Get him another bowl, please. On me.” Naruto starts to splutter, but Teuchi cuts him off.

“Coming right up.” 

“That's really cool of you, Shikami-san! Thanks!”

“Sure thing, Naruto-kun.” He waves, ambling out the door. “See you around, I'm sure.” He makes it out the door and a couple steps down the street before a goggled head pokes out into the street to yell after him.

“See you later!” Multiple people – civilian and shinobi both – flinch at just the sight of the pre-genin. Shikamaru just raises a hand in acknowledgement and shoots a smile over his shoulder. 

He doesn't think Naruto is testing him, exactly, but he's happy to provide reassurance. He's really not planning on ignoring the kid. He's got a promise to keep.

Chapter Text

Ino knows before she's fully conscious that Shikamaru is gone. It's not unexpected, but the way Shikaku's chakra keeps spiking anxiously is giving her a headache.

“He can take care of himself,” she murmurs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Please calm down before you give me a migraine.” Shikaku startles violently. Ino probably should have opened her eyes first, or at least given any notice that she was awake. Oh well.

“Sorry,” Shikaku says. The spikes don't get less severe, but at least he tamps down on the amount of chakra.

“What happened to Shikamaru?” Asks her dad softly. Shikaku shakes his head.

“He's never had a temper.” It's not really a response, not any attempt at an explanation. Ino understands perfectly. “Even as a baby he was so calm. You remember, Ino?” He's addressing her father, he's staring at her.

“Least fussy baby I ever met.” Inoichi answers carefully.

“He's not mad,” Ino says with a tired sigh. She ignores the disbelief from her uncle, forging on. “Frustrated, probably, but not angry. He wouldn't have left, if Shika was angry you'd still be losing an argument.”

That manages to shake a laugh from the Nara. “We were talking about the war.” 

“It's a touchy subject.” Not enough on its own to send her friend running, though.

“I said I was glad he survived.” That would do it. Ino winces.

“An even touchier subject. I don't know how familiar you are with survivor's guilt, Shikaku-ji, but we lost a lot. There were better choices to send back, but we were all that was left.”

“Ah.”

“Better choices?” Asks her father, unable to squash the interrogator inside. Shikaku raises a wry eyebrow but doesn’t call him on it.

“Naruto, for one.”

“Naruto?” Shikaku's voice is dry as a Suna desert. Inoichi, who has seen a bit of the future for himself, makes no comment.

“That a problem?” She can't imagine it would be, but it wouldn't be the first time someone's disappointed her on the subject.

“Problem?” Shikaku hums thoughtfully. “No, no problem with Naruto. Just a surprise. Kid must have some major growth coming.”

“Amazing what happens when you give a neglected child a bit of help.” Neither of them meet her eyes, which isn't how she meant it at all. “Not that it's on you personally. Anything you could do would constitute treason.”

“Treason, huh?”

“Sure, given nobody who knew his parents is allowed to make contact. It's common knowledge how close you two worked with the yondaime.” Inoichi's eyebrows stretch for his hairline. “Very few secrets survive the end of the world, tou-san.”

“So, why not Naruto?” Asks her father.

“Somebody had to activate the array,” she replies, studying a particularly large knot in the floor. “Nobody else had the sealing knowledge to make it, nobody else had enough chakra to activate it. Odds are that getting us back this far killed him.”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” says Shikaku, and Ino smiles her thanks. The conversation trails off, each of them with plenty to occupy their thoughts.

“Shika doesn't yell if he can avoid it.” Ino eventually says, breaking the silence. “That's why he left. Too aware that every conversation could be the last one, I think.” Too traumatised by one such ending, more like. Not that that's anyone's business.

“He did say he was being irrational, I suppose. Something about needing a smoke?” Shikaku has mostly calmed down, sad and tired the same way her father had been on the hill. Ino hates to put that look on the faces of people she loves. She reaches into the pocket of her vest in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

“Not likely, I've still got his lighter.” She gets a pair of weak chuckles, which is all she really expected.

“What do you want us to tell Choza?” Asks her father. Ino's stomach sinks. They'd known that question was coming, but still she'd been dreading it.

“What…” she takes a deep, steadying breath. “What would you do if I said ‘nothing’?” the pair exchange a heavy glance.

“Try,” Inoichi says softly. “We'd try.” Ino shakes her head before they can think on it too much. It was a stupid question, selfish to even contemplate. She owes Choji more than that.

“Choji would…” Choji would understand, is what he would do. Damn him.

She shakes her head once, hard enough to stop that line of thought. “Tell him. Tell him everything. Tell him we're sorry, and I'd give my life to bring Choji back. Tell him if he wants the whole story to ask me, and I'll answer whatever questions he has. Tell him Cho was the kindest man I ever knew. Tell him we're sorry. I'm so sorry.” She scrubs away the tears before they can fall, flinching a little at hand that lands on her shoulder.

“Okay, Ino.” Her father murmurs, squeezing her shoulder once before letting go. 

“We'll fill him in, kid.” Says Shikaku almost as softly. “I should go, let you get settled in…let Yoshino know to expect her time travelling son as a house guest. Kami knows she'd see through any lie we came up with.”

“She is the brains of the household,” Ino teases with a wet laugh.

•••

Shikamaru does go back to the compound after his run in with Naruto, as he had told his father he would. He just takes the long way around. Ino might have the relative luxury of being a sensor type, but he has to go about convincing himself the village is safe the old-fashioned way. 

He can't seek anyone specific out to check on them, not with ANBU on his tail – it's gratifying to know that whatever Shikamaru might feel about him, the Hokage does have brains enough to not let undocumented strangers roam free – but places are safe enough. 

He stands in front of the academy for a while, staring at a swing Naruto had once admitted to sitting on alone for hours during their childhood. He wants to have done more for the kid tonight, even as the rational part of his brain says taking too much interest in the village jinchuriki after supposedly being gone for years won't help anyone.

Next is the memorial stone. He pays his respects to Naruto's parents for bringing one of the few genuinely good people he's met into the world. He thanks Obito for the sacrifice he's already made at this point, and for another down the road. Shikamaru trusts Obito about as far as he can throw him, but he was an ally in the end. He thanks Hatake Sakumo for his nindo, and for his son. 

Shika and Ino didn't really know Hatake Kakashi before the war. He was team seven’s jonin sensei and not much else. But in years of war he was a calm presence in the midst of chaos, a steadfast protector and an understanding ear. 

In the end, when a fraction of the Konoha twelve were left – when Choji was a gaping wound in team ten that had yet to scab, and team seven had gone from six members to two – Kakashi was a friend, a comrade. Nobody knew grief like the man who had lost everyone he loved before he hit fifteen, but Naruto, Ino, and Shikamaru were making quick studies.

The village has yet to see Sakumo as a martyr the way they will once Danzo's crimes come out, but every person who has ever chosen their comrades over the mission is in good company. Shikamaru would choose Ino over the mission even now, even with the fate of the world as her counter weight. 

‘Take care of each other’ , Naruto had said, not ‘good luck’.

With his respects paid and his nerves as calm as they'll get, Shikamaru heads home.

•••

He ducks in the back way.

The Nara clan wards fizz a little in his ears, recognizing him enough to identify the clan heir, but sophisticated enough to know something's not quite right.

Luckily, they decide he's not a threat, so he doesn't end up any worse for wear. This deep in protected lands – and blatantly ignoring multiple established entryways – the wards are probably lethal when they have cause to be. 

What a way to go, survive an apocalypse just to be suffocated in his own clan's shadows. He'd be laughed out of the afterlife. 

As he walks, Shikamaru contemplates how disrespectful he's willing to be, measures it up against how badly he needs a smoke. 

He thought he'd mostly kicked the nicotine habit, but now that things aren't in a constant state of fight or flight he's running out of things to blame the restlessness on. Not like he was ever planning to quit in the first place.

Still, he was the leader of this clan once. He was steward of the charred remains of this forest. He won't light a fire here for no reason. Not even a small one. It can wait.

There are others in the trees, fetching runaway deer, and training, and avoiding training. Shikamaru has a lifetime of experience hiding from his responsibilities out here and avoids them all with ease. It's nothing personal, exactly, except that it's nice to be alone without worrying nobody will ever find his bones. 

He steps out of the trees into the clearing behind the main house, lighting the first in a fresh pack of smokes with a fire jutsu just barely strong enough to produce actual flame the moment he clears the tree line. If Ino would give back his lighter, it wouldn't be necessary, but needs must.

He sits down on the low porch and inhales deeply. 

The cigarette is mostly gone by the time he hears the door slide open behind him. His mother pads over to him, her hand coming to rest on his head.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“I don't like the smoking,” she nags in a way he knows by now to mean ‘I'm glad you're safe.’

“I know.” It's a deviation from their script, he's supposed to tell her to get off his case. Yoshino doesn't comment on the change, just smooths his hair. 

“Come inside and chop the vegetables for dinner. We're having soba.” He doesn't tell her he just ate, just nods, puts out the butt, and follows his mother inside to help with dinner.

“Shikaku-san back yet?” Shikamaru asks, toeing off his sandals.

“Not yet, just the two of us for the moment.”

“No Shikamaru?” She raises a fond eyebrow, setting him to slicing mushrooms. 

“that boy never appears until he's sure there's nothing I might ask him to help with.” Shika snorts, dutifully chopping. 

“ungrateful if you ask me.”

“He's a little boy, taking things for granted is his job. He'll be a soldier soon enough.” The soldier hums, but lets it drop. “Slice those thinner.” 

“Yes, ma'am.” a chanced look at his mother reveals the same tight low ponytail and severe expression he's always known. It also means he sees the way her eyes keep darting to his face as they work, concern behind the harsh facade as she tracks scars, and dark circles, and gaunt cheeks. He didn't miss his mother once before she died, but he's missed her every day since. “You don't seem surprised to see me.” 

“Surprised nobody warned me to expect an extra mouth at dinner, certainly.” She glances, notices him watching. She must see something in his face he doesn’t mean to show, smiling in response. “Of course I'm surprised to see you, last time I saw you you were just a kid. But you're here, you're in one piece. What were you expecting? Hysterics?” The woman has ice in her veins. He's never been able to pull anything over on her, but he'd still expected some level of surprise. He chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Never mind, just wondered if you were going to bring it up.”

“I'm assuming Shikaku has more information.”

“He's got the whole story.”

“Then I'll get it eventually. No need for you to go repeating yourself forever. What a waste of time.”

“I suppose I should tell Inoka she's expected for dinner soon?”

“Of course,” the only indication that she hears who he isn't mentioning is a little furrow of her brow. She nudges his shoulder as she passes with a pot of water, then takes his mushrooms and replaces them with carrots. 

He obligingly starts on the orange vegetable, adjusting when she complains about the unevenness.

“who're you?” Asks a young voice, interrupting the single-minded focus he's been paying to the carrots since he heard the child approaching.

“Shikamaru! Where are your manners?” His mother scolds.

“Welcome to our home, who are you?” The voice says, tone exactly as rude as the first time. The chunin turns mechanically to look at his younger self and finds – 

He's short, still scrawny rather than lean. The kid is slouching and clever and trying to look cynical in a way that only highlights his innocence. He's just so young . 

There's really not much of him in this kid, yet. Sure he's sharp, hard to phase, but most of what shaped the man hasn't even occurred to the boy. If they do their job right, it never will. 

“You must be Shikamaru.”

“She just said that,” says Shikamaru, uninterested in his older self's inner turmoil.

He is Shikamaru, is the thing. He sees the differences sharply, but before the nightmares he's endured, he was this kid. They're here to make things better, for everyone. So, while the rude little shit is going to have to grow up somehow – and trauma is too much a part of shinobi life to spare him completely – he's going to keep him from the worst of it. 

He doesn't particularly like himself, but he can admit to a soft spot for the kid who never could make sense of people the way he could everything else. 

Fine, if the kid's Shikamaru he'll have to be Shikami after all. Because the brat’s certainly not going to end up like him. 

“Nara Shikami, at your service.” 

“Shikami-kun just got back from a long mission.” Says his father from the door, an apology he doesn't owe in his eyes. “I offered to let him stay with us.”

“A rare good idea from you,” teases Yoshino. 

“Whatever,” says Shikamaru. “You play shogi?” 

“sure do.” 

“you any good?”

“better than your dad.” at this point in his life, Shikami’s father was the golden standard of shogi player. Predictably, the pre-genin perks up.

“go change and wash up for dinner, Shikamaru.” He slumps again, but obediently heads off down the hall.

“save it, it wasn't your fault,” Shikami says before his father can start. “I didn’t mean to freak you out, I'm sorry.” the older man nods slowly.

“didn't mean to poke a wound.”

“I know.” They set the table, his mother demanding perfection. Just as Shikamaru reappears, Shikaku asks:

“You really think you're better?” 

“I know I'm better.”

“We'll see.” Shikami's not worried. Foreknowledge does have its benefits.

•••

After walking Shikaku to the edge of the compound, they take the long way back to the main house. The long way winds through a couple of greenhouses and past another close enough to see through the glass.

The compound is buzzing with life. Gardeners are tending to their gardens, florists harvesting the best flowers as they fulfil orders. Off-duty shinobi help here and there or simply wander, reminding themselves what they fight to protect. 

People wave their hellos, a handful introducing themselves to Ino. She doesn't have to say much, content to let the clan head introduce her as cousin Inoka, home from a long mission. Nobody questions it, there are enough Yamanaka branches living on these ancestral grounds that nobody can know everyone.

Ino has been taking this route home on every bad day for her entire life. It's peaceful, but full of life. A reminder of everything she loves, all grouped together. Ino doesn't cry easily, not anymore, but she cried bitter tears when she first saw the Yamanaka compound in ruins. 

Being home, finally home, feels like being able to breathe deeply after years of slowly suffocating.

Her father leaves her in the front sitting room with a nice cup of green tea, and goes off to find her mother. She sits and soaks up the peace for five minutes. 

On the sixth minute a preteen Ino comes barreling through the door after her shift at the florist, crowing about Sasuke winning a spar. If Ino achieves one thing in this trip besides saving the world, it will be killing the Sasuke war between her younger self and Sakura. 

In the meantime, little Ino has skidded to a stop, blushing. “S-sorry shinobi-san. I didn't know we had company.”

The elder smiles, fighting down a laugh. “That's all right. You must be Ino.” She nods. “That's going to be an adjustment.”

“What's going to be an adjustment, shinobi-san?” The girl sits carefully across from her and, in the Yamanaka way, starts fishing for information. 

“I'm Ino too. Inoka, technically. It's nice to meet you.” 

“You're Ino too?” She asks “I thought it was just me and my dad right now.”

Ino…and that's getting awfully confusing even in her own head. She's not going to not be Ino. But this girl is only Ino, and she's not. She's also Inoka, she picked it herself. Inoka rubs the back of her head bashfully.

“There was a bit of a mix up. I've been on a long mission. Longer than you've been alive.”

“that wouldn't make you not an Ino though. Unless…oh wow were you under like super deep cover?” Inoka weighs the pros and cons of correcting Ino and decides against it. she'll find out just how imperfect the village is soon enough. 

“Something like that,” is what she settles for. Ino is bouncing a little, looking desperately like she would like to know the details. “Can't tell you much, sorry kiddo.”

“Confidentiality is very important,” Ino agrees seriously. She's fidgeting with her hair, up in a slightly lopsided ponytail, and Inoka remembers this day in perfect detail now. “Want some help with that?” Ino's hair is finally long enough to go comfortably into a high ponytail. She was so proud at the time, insisting this was how she would get one up on Sakura. The pre-genin blushes scarlet. 

“Oh, um, it's okay Inoka-san. You just got off your secret mission, you must be tired.” Inoka considers how rarely they had guests in the main house growing up. Her father didn't keep much of his work here, but there was a private study off her parent's bedroom. All of the guarded clan secrets were kept there. 

With so much of the compound populated by florist shops and therapists offices, their main house is a fortress of wards to compensate for lower security on the grounds at large.

No wonder Ino is trusting her so easily, anyone who might mean her harm would never have gotten inside – let alone be left with tea.

“You sure? I'm pretty good with braids.” Ino's eyes light up, shooting to the twin braids trailing down her back. 

“If you really don't mind…” she scoots a little closer even as she speaks, Inoka muffles a laugh.

“Not at all.” She kneels behind the little girl, tugging the tie from her hair and running her fingers through the strands to separate it. “You have really nice hair, Ino-chan.” She does, it's soft and silky. Inoka's is brittle and dull these days from years of malnutrition.

“Thanks! Kaa-san said if I wanted to grow it long I had to take really good care of it. But I woulda anyway, Naruto came to school with this big mat in his hair once, and Iruka-sensei had to cut it out. I was so embarrassed for him.” Inoka hums as she's reminded exactly how thoughtless pre-teen girls can be.

“That was very nice of your sensei to help him,” she says, separating the hair into two sections and setting to work braiding the first. “I imagine that boy doesn't have anyone to teach him how to take care of his hair.” This seems to stop Ino up short. 

“Oh…I, um, didn't think of that.”

“You're lucky your mum cares enough to make sure your hair is healthy. Still, I'm glad it sounds like you know the risks if you slack.” Ino’s never slacked a day in her life, the problem has always lain more in getting her to calm down a bit.

“You're really wise, Inoka-san.” Says Ino. “Hey, do you know how to get a boy to like me?” A sigh will not be well received, she knows that. Still, the urge is hard to fight.

“At your age? Honestly, I can't think of a single boy that was worth my time at your age.” 

“But say there was a boy, and he was worth your time?” Sakura might have been onto something with Ino-pig. Ino-pigheaded, anyway. 

“Listen, you're very cute, and I'm guessing you're very smart, and you're certainly committed. If this kid isn't in love with you already, you must be enjoying the chase. Yeah?”

“I mean, I guess. If he wants smart he's gonna go for billboard brow. But I won't allow that, cause he's really, really cool, Inoka-san. He's so mysterious, and quiet, and smart, and strong!” 

“An Aburame? Honey, just ask him about pollinator insects and you're golden.” Ino is facing away and staying very still, but Inoka can hear the scowl on her face. The idea of the fangirl war being over Shino is worth it. She can almost picture his horror. A girl's got to have her fun somehow.

“He's not an Aburame, he's an Uchiha.”

“An Uchiha? What colour hair tie do you want, Ino-chan?” There's a quiet argument happening in the hallway. If she had to guess, it's probably over the issue of leaving a shinobi emerging from deep cover alone with a mostly defenceless child.

“Oh, purple, please.” Shocking. Absolutely groundbreaking from her. “ The Uchiha, I guess. It's just him in that big old compound, but when we get married I'll keep him company.” Inoka ties the first braid, running a hand over her face in second hand embarrassment.

Then, because even at this age Ino has spent plenty of time around shrinks, Inoka goes for the kill. “Ino-chan, he's not mysterious, he's traumatised. Kid lost his whole clan overnight. If you like him for all his strange little trauma responses, just wait a few years. You can have your pick of the bunch. By the time they hit chunin every boy you know will be broken in strange and interesting ways.” Ino whips around to stare at her, ruining the half finished braid.

Kami, she hates that this is working. With her terrible taste in men it's a miracle she ended up with someone as good as Sai.

Ino's eyes are wide as saucers, recontextualising every interaction she's ever had with the Uchiha boy in real time. 

“He's traumatised,” she says flatly. “They're all going to be quiet, and brooding, and mysterious?” Inoka tamps down to urge to say Shikamaru turned out to be the broodingest of them all. It wouldn't be well received. 

“Probably not all of them,” she allows. “But he'll be far from unique. And as cool as you are, you'll have lots of options if you bide your time. But, if you commit too hard to this one now, they'll all be too intimidated to tell you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ino turns back around, Inoka restarts the braid. Her mother is watching her through a crack in the door to the hallway, looking like she's seen a ghost. 

Inoka pokes at her mind and is granted easy access.

Hi, Kaa-san. Her mother smiles, eyes a little watery.

Welcome home, clover. Inoka retreats from her head as she slides the door shut, and though both Inos know she's still there listening, they don't comment.

“Now who, exactly, is billboard brow? You're going to be a shinobi soon and you're stooping to calling names?”

“She started it,” Ino grumbles, crossing her arms.

“Maybe she did, but why?”

“She's supposed to be my rival in love or whatever, but now you're telling me that Sasuke-kun isn't even anything special or anything.” She rubs a hand over her eyes. “That's super embarrassing, Inoka-san, what a waste of time.” Little girls are fickle, fickle creatures, for how quickly Ino is dismissing Sasuke almost entirely.

“Stay still, or we'll be at this all day.” She sits up straight again, holding as still as possible. “Now I refuse to call a little girl ‘billboard brow’, so let's have a name.”

“Haruno Sakura,” she mumbles. “We're, or we were best friends. But then she knew I liked Sasuke-kun and she still started liking him too. And that seemed like a real betrayal at the time but now you tell me he's really just some guy .” The drama of it all, where did they find the energy for it?

“Would you rather I hadn't told you?”

“Wish you told me two years ago,” Ino huffs.

“So what're you going to do about Sakura-chan?” 

“I don't know, there's nothing to be rivals about now. I guess we'll go back to being friends.”

“Just like that?” Inoka ties off the second braid. It's a tiny bit crooked, but nobody will ever notice besides her. Given how squirmy her subject is, it's good enough. “All done, Ino-chan.” The girl takes off for a mirror at a sprint, nearly bowling over Inoichi in the process. Inoka follows at a more reasonable pace.

“You're a miracle worker,” Inoichi hisses as she trails his daughter. 

“I just know what to say.” She counters. 

“Oh, wow! They're perfect, Inoka-san!” Ino comes running back out. “Will you teach me how to do that?”

“Sure I will.” She steers the conversation back on track, the whole group converging on the kitchen for supper. “Don't you think you might owe Sakura-chan an apology?” 

Ino shrugs “she did start it.” She didn't, Inoka was there, but Ino seems to really believe it so she lets it slide. 

“I'm sure she did, but maybe you both deserve apologies, then.” Ino chews on her lip as she sets the table. 

“Fine, I'll apologise, and then she'll apologise for sure because Sakura-chan is so nice like that. And if she still wants Sasuke-kun I guess she can have him. Cause I'm gonna have boys falling all over me soon anyway!” The last declaration comes at a near yell, but her parents let it slide this once. 

Inoka offers out a fist and Ino bumps it. “Sounds like a plan.” 

As they sit down for dinner, Inoka feels tension drain that she hadn't even noticed was there. She's changed something, nothing big in the scheme of the world, but something has been changed for the better. 

It's a start.

Chapter Text

Shikami sleeps in.

More accurately he doesn't sleep at all until the sun is starting to rise, then the recent days of walking through the night compound with sleeping in a real bed for the first time in years. The result is that he gets a reasonable eight hours of sleep, but doesn't even roll out of bed until noon. 

He must have looked even worse than he thought, because Yoshino doesn't even call him lazy, just raises one eyebrow at him from where she's mixing medicines in one corner of the kitchen.

“Morning,” he mumbles with a wave. 

“Good morning, Shikami-kun,” she says, looking back to her work. “Sleep well?” He yawns, nodding. “Nice to see some things don't change.” 

“Wha time's it?”

“Just after noon. Aren't you supposed to go pick up your new papers?” 

“I am, but Inoka and I never set a meeting time yesterday.”

“Because you ran off without warning?”

“Because I ran off without warning,” he agrees. Nice to know she's all caught up.

“Well, no use sitting around. Come separate this into tea bags while you wait. Hana-san's knee has been giving her trouble again.”

“Sure,” he says, and settles down to help. 

The wards must have sorted out what to do with him while he slept, because he feels Inoka ping them as she crosses the threshold – not hostile but annoucing a guest.

Interesting, given that alert should go to the highest ranking clan member on the compound. If the wards are recognising him as the heir, it should have alerted his mother. Some deep and arcane bit of fuinjutsu has recognised him as the clan leader. Technically, it's the right call. Still, he'll have to let Shikaku know, make sure he's still getting the intruder alerts properly. 

For the moment he simply stands, wishes Yoshino a good day, and pulls on his flak jacket and sandals as he leaves. 

Ino and Choji were keyed into the Nara wards as guests around the time the trio started at the academy. It was as much about practicality as it was about the tradition of reinforcing the family bonds – two kids constantly trying to cross hostile wards would eventually spell disaster.

Knowing this, and knowing Ino, Shikami kind of forgets that the rest of the family doesn't see a familiar member of a generations long trio crossing the boundary.

He's reminded quickly, however, when he approaches the front gate to find Inoka standing with a very suspicious Ensui.

She waves the moment she sees him, grinning.

“Morning!” She calls when he obstinately refuses to speed up. “Or afternoon now, I guess.” The silence stretches as he takes his sweet time, given he's been up for less than an hour and she's causing chaos for the sake of it. 

“Hello, Ensui-san. I'm sorry about her.” He turns to Inoka. “You couldn't have waited outside?”

“I wanted to see the deer.” 

“I could have brought you to see the deer.”

“you know this woman?” Ensui manages to cut in before the bickering can really take off. He's looking at Shikami like he can't quite place him. Shikami nods. “Can you explain to me why she seems to be keyed into the compound wards?”

“she's been in the wards since we were…I don't know three or four?”

“And yet I’ve never seen her before?” 

“We've been on mission, long term. Just got back yesterday.” Ensui nods slowly, no longer squinting at Shikami like he might be an intruder. He looks to Inoka instead.

“Do you know who keyed you in?”

“Um…probably Shikaku-san. I think he was clan head by then.” Ensui looks satisfied enough with the answer. Shikami is absolutely certain he'll be checking with Shikaku. At least somebody in this village takes security seriously.

“Sorry, Ensui-san.  I didn't mean to cause confusion.”

“Only sew chaos.” Shikami adds dryly.

“What should I have done? I crossed the wards, he asked me a question, I realised why it would seem suspicious. You think it would have been better to look like I was running away by leaving the wards again?” She has a point, loath as he is to admit it. 

“Whatever, are we going or not?” 

“What about the deer?” Inoka is pouting. Actually pouting. He knew exposure to Ino could make anyone more dramatic, but he hadn't realised it extended to another version of herself. 

“Errands first.” 

“You never let me have any fun.” 

“Yeah, I'm a famous hardass.” She scowls, poking him. “Come on, let's go.” 

“And you'll buy me dango as an apology?”

“For what?”

“For making me wait around all day for you to wake up.”

He sighs, “Fine, sorry for making you relax for a whole morning .” He waves at Ensui, who has drifted from suspicious firmly into amused. “Nice to see you, Ensui-san.”

“You too,” he says, heading off in the direction of the main house. Going right to Yoshino, then. Not even waiting until he sees Shikaku next. Shikami approves. 

•••

They exit the hokage tower into blinding afternoon sun, two sets of identification and a decade's back wages heavier. Shikami would feel worse if it was a couple years later, when the village was trying to rebuild from the invasion, but at the moment two chunin's decade of B-rank pay isn't exactly bleeding the village dry and it would be far too suspicious not to take the money.

Besides, they need to support Ino's dango habit somehow. He'll never understand what Inoichi was thinking when he introduced her to Anko.

They're on their way back from the promised dango stop, headed for the market to replenish some supplies, when a young voice yells out through the academy fence. 

“Hey! Shikami-san, hey!” They both spin to find Naruto in his usual bright orange and waving with both hands.

“It's been less than twenty-four hours, when did you even have time to meet strange neon children?” Inoka asks, popping another dumpling in her mouth.

“Hey, Naruto-kun,” Shikami waves lazily, approaching the fence. To Inoka he says: “I stopped for ramen after I left yours.”

“Of course you did,” she murmurs. “Hey kid, who're you?”

“Uzumaki Naruto!” Across the schoolyard, Ino looks up from where she's bent close with Sakura. The blonde's hair is in two tight braids he's come to associate with the adult version. Seeing Inoka, the Yamanaka runs over. Sakura trails nervously, like she might not be welcome.

Looks like Inoka's made a start on them at least. He may not have paid much attention to girls at this age, but the feud had made something of an impression. 

“Nice to meet you, Naruto-kun,” Inoka says with a gentle smile. Ino, where she's approaching, scowls at Naruto, opening her mouth to say something that's probably rude, knowing this Ino as he does. Then the strangest thing happens: Ino glances at Inoka, the scowl morphs into a frown, and she shuts her mouth. 

Inoka is a kunoichi capable of great subterfuge, with a poker face good enough to fool the hokage. Because of these skills, only Shikami sees the way she startles. On anyone else they would be gaping like a fish. 

Yeah, she's definitely made an impression on the young Yamanaka clan heir.

“You must be Ino,” Shikami says, addressing the younger Yamanaka. “Ino…I guess that nickname is confusing these days. My Ino tells me you've been filling her in on all the gossip we missed.” Ino begins to give him the highlights and he keeps focused on her, allowing himself only a half glance at Sakura at a time. 

The pink-haired girl is timid and shy in a way he'd forgotten she ever was. Still, she already has the same intense curiosity in her eyes, and he can see the ghost of who she can become. It hurts like a battering ram to the chest, but he's fought through worse. She's here, breathing and alive, which does temper the pain a little.

“Shikami-san, Iruka-sensei says you were on a super long mission. Was it dangerous? Was it super-secret spy stuff?” Naruto is surprisingly close to the truth, or at least to their story. Shikami doesn't let on to that, though, raising an eyebrow.

“Gossiping about me, Naruto-kun?” 

The boy flushes and starts to stammer indignantly, but before he can form a coherent sentence, Mizuki comes over to see what the fuss is about. He already looks annoyed, which is fine because what Shikami feels is closer to white-hot rage. 

The Nara double checks he has his chakra on lock, nobody needs to feel how much he'd like to kill this school teacher. 

“Naruto!” He barks, “stop bothering people on the street!” He glances at the two girls, just as much of a supposed disturbance as Naruto. The teacher frowns at Sakura in reproach, and doesn't even do that much to her clan heir friend. Bigoted ass.

Shikami rubs the back of his neck and grins at the man. The expression is a nice compromise. He can't rip Mizuki's throat out, but at least he gets to bare his teeth. “Maa, it's no bother, sensei. We just got back to the village and Naruto-kun has been very welcoming.” He chances a glance at the kids and can't quite mask the way he stiffens in surprise. 

Naruto is deflating at the reprimand, not bothering to argue the way he might with Iruka, though he perks up a little with Shikami's reassurance. None of that is surprising. Many people have a blindspot where the boy they call demon's emotions are concerned, but even pre-genin Shikamaru has noticed Naruto isn't as unfazeable as he acts. 

What is incredibly surprising, however, is the behaviour of the girls. Both have shuffled over to the orange-clad boy. Ino places herself between Naruto and Mizuki, while Sakura plants her feet firmly beside him – even as she keeps glancing at Ino for reassurance. Ino nods once, resolute in her decision. 

Shikami, who was pretty sure Ino thought Naruto was ‘weird and loud and gross’ at this age, nudges his partner's chakra with his own until she connects their minds. 

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing, I don't know.”

“Nothing?” Shikami projects his incredulity while listening with one ear as the traitor simper about them surely having more important things to do than entertain one kid. 

They were actually entertaining three kids, and with the crowd gathering around the commotion Mizuki is single-handedly making, they're now entertaining most of the class.

Shikami is rapidly reaching his threshold for tiny versions of his dead friends. At least Shikamaru has, so far, either not been bothered to investigate the noise, or has deemed them less interesting than cloud watching. Either way, for the moment they're spared whatever seeing Choji will do to the pair.

“I told her not to judge Naruto for having a mat in his hair? That can't be enough.” 

Yamanaka are bloodhounds for trauma, if Inoka drew her attention to one aspect of Naruto's circumstances, it would have been more than enough for her to notice the rest. Somebody's connecting some unpleasant dots. He thinks to himself, shutting his mind off again. 

“Really, it’s no trouble,” Inoka assures Mizuki. The man scowls and it's a good act, if Shikami didn't know better he would think the school teacher was suspicious of the strangers taking an interest in his students. More likely he was expecting commiseration over Naruto. “We should get going, though. I have some things I want to pick up.”

“Taking breaks is important sometimes, you know.”

“I didn't know you were a mednin.” 

“I didn't know mednin training discouraged rest.”

“No, just complacency.”

“You were put on this planet to kill me, woman.” Not that he’s all that good at rest these days, himself.

“Yeah, yeah. March, Nara.”

“Inoka-san!” Ino calls after them. “Will you be done in time to help me with throwing practice after school?” She hesitates just enough over the word throwing for Shikami to know she doesn't mean kunai.

“I promised I would, didn't I?” Whatever, he trusts Inoka. If she thinks teaching a preteen to throw senbon is a good idea she's probably right. 

She glances pointedly from Ino to Sakura, still standing firm at Naruto's side as Mizuki turns his ire back to them. Shikami has half a second to consider sticking around to keep an eye on them before he catches sight of a familiar spikey ponytail and relaxes again. The children scatter as Iruka appears, leaving the original three. Iruka will handle this right,  even if he has a bit of a blindspot where Mizuki is concerned. 

They'll need to work on that, when Shikami gets a minute.

The list of things they need to fix is never ending, but they're going to fix them all, anyway.

And they say the Nara are lazy .

In the meantime, judging by the look both Yamanaka are now giving her, it seems Sakura will be learning to throw senbon tonight as well. Terrifying. 

He raises a hand to greet Iruka as he makes his way across the school yard. Iruka's shoulders relax when he recognizes the shinobi at the fence, waving back. It's incredibly encouraging to have their former sensei starting to trust them so quickly, and comforting that he stays on guard just in case. He'd rather have Naruto protected than have Iruka as an ally, but he'll take both. 

“Give any more thought to the vacation plans?” He calls. Iruka barks a laugh, coming to stand behind Naruto. 

“as appealing as you made Water and Wind sound, I think it'll be a hundred years before I get time to leave the village, let alone the land of Fire.” 

“Ah, well, it's the best one anyways.” Inoka assures.

“Nowhere quite like Konoha,” Shikami agrees. “Nice seeing you again, Iruka-sensei, but we should probably get going. Inoka's got a social calender packed with preteens. Keeps us pretty busy.”

“Hey! Just because you're not bonding with your cousin.”

“We played shogi. Besides, Shikamaru would rather pull out his own teeth than add more work to his day.” 

“This conversation isn't over,” Inoka huffs, then turns to their little audience. “I'll pick you up from school,” she promises the girls. “Nice meeting you Naruto-kun, sensei.”

“Please, call me Mizuki.”

“Mizuki-sensei, then,” Inoka agrees, emphasising the honorific just enough to chafe at a man who believes teaching is beneath him.

•••

They try to take their time shopping, to mixed success. On one hand, they're spoiled for choice after half a decade spent scavenging. On the other, they know exactly what they like for weapons and gear, and they're still trying to relearn the luxury of time.

The result is an efficient twenty minute gathering of resources, then an hour spent poking around grocers and clothing stores to convince themselves they're not still in panic mode. 

Given the staggering level of self-delusion they're showing, Inoka is glad they're going back to the Nara compound rather than the Yamanaka. The resulting psych eval would be a disaster.

After a brief visit with the deer as promised (Shikami must be in a good mood, because he keeps the comments about wasting time to a minimum) they settle down in the room Shikami has been given in the main house to plan.

Much as they might joke about Naruto's math, they had known coming into this that there was no way to know when they would end up with any degree of accuracy. Fuinjutsu is a precise craft, and Naruto was the best in the world once Jiraya died. Impossible fuinjutsu, however, carries rather more uncertainty. The main focus had gone to getting them back in time alive, with no guarantee of when. 

This made planning complicated. Kakashi and Shikami had run through as many weaknesses and contingencies as they could think of for major enemies, while Ino worked  with Naruto and Kurama to cram as detailed of a timeline as possible into her head. Then they'd memorised each other's work in case they ended up alone. 

Still, it amounted to mostly background work, and only the sketches of a plan, so that it would still be useful if they landed off course. 

Now that they're here and established, the real work can begin.

They sketch out the basics and Inoka resists the urge to bang her head against the wall at their limitations. They're easily jonin level, conservatively in the top 5% of shinobi in the village, and they outsmarted Hidan once. It's nothing to sneeze at. At the end of the day, though, they're no team seven.

“Sakura would have known what to say to Lady Tsunade,” Ino laments.

“Naruto would already have Obito and Nagato reformed,” Shika adds, flopping back on the tatami. 

“Sai or Tenzo could have slipped into ROOT and taken care of Danzo without anyone the wiser.”

“Sasuke…maybe best Sasuke isn't the one here, actually.” Inoka snorts.

“He certainly would have been effective,” she lays back beside her friend “subtle as a meteor strike.”

“flexible as dry grass” There's a lull in the conversation as Inoka holds their little list out above her. It's simple, logical, just a list of names in order of importance.

1.  Zetsu
2. Madara
3. Danzo
4. Orochimaru
5. Nagato
6. Tsunade
7. Akatsuki
8. Itachi

If all goes according to plan they can skip several of the items. 

If Nagato sees reason the Akatsuki as a whole should disband, and although they refuse to leave Hidan alone on principle, their threat as a whole moves down the list without organization. 

Similarly, they're much less dangerous if they take out Zetsu and Madara, since their goals skew less apocalyptic without that manipulation.

If Danzo dies or loses power, it's less of a rush to get Tsunade here to keep him in check. Itachi’s orders will come to light as well.

Inoka's uncomfortable with the amount of variables, and she knows Shika must be even worse, but it's a start. 

Realistically, at the moment all they can focus on is Tsunade and Danzo. Nobody knows exactly where Sound is, though they must be building power by now.

Ino-Shika-Cho formations are designed for capture, sure, but without Choji their capture methods are decidedly short term. They're not weak, but they're not equipped to take on the Akatsuki or Zetsu single-handedly, not like team seven were. 

They'll need support to prevent their future from coming to pass, and for that they need a hokage they can trust with the truth.

Shikami lets out a long-suffering sigh, putting his hands behind his head. “should've been Kakashi,” he mutters. It would have been Kakashi, except that none of them could find a plausible way to explain a long-lost Hatake who knew everything about the village and happened to also have a sharingan. 

“we'll have to do,” Inoka responds. Shikami grunts, staring at the ceiling. 

“We'll do it, though.” Her brother vows to the ceiling. 

“Obviously.”

“What a pain.” Inoka nods sitting up and committing the list to memory one more time before pulling out Shikami's lighter and setting it alight. She makes sure it catches before dropping the paper in the trash can.

“can you imagine if it'd been Sasuke, though?” She nudges him with her foot and tosses the smoker his lighter. Sakura would have had her head, but Ino knows a losing battle when she sees one. She's seen enough. 

Shikami lets out one last heartfelt sigh at the prospect of all the work ahead of them. At this point she's sure he wouldn't know what to do with downtime if he had it, but the complaints are a comfortable habit.

“The village wouldn't have known what hit it.”

Chapter Text

Shikami wonders if they're building the wrong sort of reputation, loitering around the Academy twice in one day. 

Inoka is one thing, since she's here to pick up a family member, but he knows damn well Shikamaru won't be interested in any offer of training during prime cloudwatching hours. Which means he's just an adult hanging out in front of a school. Great.

He could be doing something more productive, he should be, but every time he gets too far from Inoka it gets hard to breathe. He's fought through worse, he'll get over it. Just, tomorrow, when they've been home for at least a day.

For now, he gives into twelve years of battle-honed instinct and stays as close to his sister as possible.

“Would it be wrong for me to smoke?” He wonders aloud. They've positioned themselves under a wide-limbed tree a little ways away from the Academy gates, specifically to fuck with the jonin ‘sleeping’ in it.

Between talking to the memorial stone and looking in on Naruto, Shikami's not sure when Kakashi actually goes on missions. Retiring him from ANBU was a good idea, but it seems to have left him with a lot of free time. 

“right outside the Academy? So kids can breathe it in?”

“Never stopped sensei.” He points out just to see the vein in her forehead bulge. Simple pleasures. 

“Well it should have,” she growls as kids start streaming from the building. Ino is one of the first ones out, half-dragging Sakura behind her. They rush over to Haruno Mebuki, who Shikami vaguely recalls continuing to pick up her daughter long after the shinobi parents started letting their kids walk alone. 

Inoka knocks his shoulder as she heads over to the trio, waving politely to Mebuki as she goes. “Training at seven tomorrow?” She confirms. 

“eight?”

“Seven.” He shrugs, nodding his defeat. Inoka goes to charm Sakura's mother into letting her teach her eleven-year-old how to kill a man with a needle. Shikami leans against a tree, and watches her back as she goes, and doesn't smoke. 

“Is she your girlfriend or something?” Asks Shikamaru dryly as he ambles out the gates, accompanied by the sound of a crinkling chip bag opening. Shikami snorts and doesn't look at Choji.

“Ew, no. She's basically my sister,” his eyes trail Inoka as she heads towards a training ground with two girls in tow. She's laughing as she glances over her shoulder to wave at Shikami, and almost doesn't flinch when she sees who he's with. Shikami doesn't follow her gaze, even when the Akimichi asks: 

“Why're you just standing around staring at her, then?”

“habit, I guess,” he murmurs. “I don't think I know how to not watch her back, anymore.”

Inoka disappears into the trees with the girls and he takes a long, steadying breath before forcibly turning his head to look at the boys. No time like the present, and hopefully whatever cracks are in his mask can be attributed to worry for Ino.

Choji is peering into the fresh bag of chips, looking vaguely curious about the stranger who’s actually managed to grab Shikamaru’s attention. He's innocent and self-conscious, the boundaries of his kindness never meaningfully tested. He has no idea how important he is – what losing him would do to his best friend. Shikami will die to keep either of them from finding out.

Shikamaru is squinting at his ‘cousin’ like he's a particularly troublesome puzzle, which Shikami knows from being on the other side to be dangerous for any secrets he might want to keep. He can probably outsmart a pre-genin, should be fine.

“don't imagine you're looking for extra training?” He raises an eyebrow at Shikamaru. 

“Yeah, right,” the boy scoffs

“What can I do for you, then?”

“I want a rematch.”

“You mean you want me to kick your ass again.” overhead, an elite jonin laughs softly enough that it could almost pass for rustling leaves.

Shikamaru scowls “I'll beat you eventually.”

“Eventually, sure.” Maybe. “You want your rematch now?”

“After dinner.”

“So you can avoid the house long enough to not help your mum?”

“I'm busy before dinner.”

“Right, with all that homework.”

“It's family tradition not to do homework.”

“When your teammate is injured and you've never practiced tying a tourniquet, you let me know how that ‘tradition’ works out for you.”It’s a stupid thing to say. Yoshino’s right, they’ll learn the hard truths soon enough, and even if he wants Shikamaru to take things seriously faster than he did, this isn’t the way to convince him.

“If I wanted someone on my case about homework I’d talk to my mum.” The elder Nara lets it drop,  rolling his eyes and slouching against the tree.

“Whatever, kid. Go stare directly into the sun, instead. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Whatever, weirdo. Come on, Choji.” Choji waves good-naturedly.

“Nice meeting you, Nara-san.”

“You too, Choji-kun. Enjoy your snack.” the Akimichi blushes, offering the chip bag. “I’d never get between an Akimichi and his food.” Shikami says automatically, falling back on two decades of clan heir training while he focuses on keeping his breathing steady.

Choji smiles a little at the respectful response, “I don’t mind.” Shikami takes a single chip, popping it into his mouth.

“Thanks, kid.” Choji nods, but his shoulders are slowly lowering from their place beside his ears as Shikami doesn’t comment on his eating habits or disparage his clan. The bar is on the floor with some of these kids, and an awful lot of people in this village still can’t seem to get over it. Shikamaru half smiles before the boredom settles back in place.

“Don’t forget about my rematch.” Not giving him time to answer, the boys are off in the opposite direction from the girls, bound for a grassy hill in the Nara woods.

“Brat.” a muffled snort from Kakashi, who isn’t even trying to pretend he’s asleep anymore. Shikami holds his hand out far enough in front of him that even from the sharp overhead angle, Kakashi can’t miss that he’s flipping him off. 

Now knowing without a doubt that he’s been made, the jonin swings out of the tree and lands softly beside him.

“You’re a strange Nara.” Kakashi says by way of greeting, never one for tact. 

Shikami thinks: trauma will warp you like that and then, you're one to talk about ‘strange’. The first is far too revealing, while the second just feels petty. He settles for: “In some ways.”

“Never met a restless Nara before.”

“Am I restless, then?” 

“In twenty-four hours you've been to every village landmark, hokage tower twice, and you came here for the end of the school day just to walk your Yamanaka friend as far as possible.” There's a deliberate avoidance of his repeated interaction with Naruto, which Shikami doesn't bother to call out.

“Is the famous copy-nin stalking me?”

“Word travels fast among shinobi.” True, if irrelevant to this situation. Kakashi had followed him on every stop from memorial stone to compound last night. Probably just because he didn't recognise him. 

“Fast enough to know I've been on mission for half my life?” Kakashi quirks his head to one side. 

“Not that fast.” He admits, squinting at the Nara. “Can't quite shake the mission mindset?” It's always unexpected how good the Hatake's emotional intelligence is, given his own mass of trauma responses. 

Shikami hums, listening to the growing chaos coming from the school. 

“Should I be worried about that?”

“Probably just Naruto wreaking havoc.” the copy-nin says, carefully neutral. The Nara laughs.

“Can't say I'm surprised he's a prankster.”

“You've met, have you?”

“Listen, I don't know what your personal threshold for bullshit is, but mine doesn't extend to pretending an elite shinobi was not following me around when he was.” Kakashi rubs the back of his head, eyes smiling.

“I suppose that's fair, Nara-kun.”

“Shikami's fine.” They take a step back in tandem as a streak of cackling orange goes by, turning to watch as Naruto scrambles up a fire escape and disappears into the civilian district. “He seems like a good kid.” 

Kakashi doesn't have a lot of tells, but the time traveller is familiar with the ones he does have. Familiar enough to see the minute softening his visible eye and the shifting of his hands from deliberately relaxed to naturally so, and to read the incredible relief they portray. Before the jonin can respond, however, a spectacularly purple-haired Mizuki runs up. 

“Have you…” he heaves a breath. Really, an active shinobi should be in better shape. Iruka follows at a much more sedate pace, and seems to be trying very hard not to smile. “Did you see which way the brat went?”

Shikami and Kakashi glance at each other, then both point out across the schoolyard, towards genin corps housing and the Inuzuka compound beyond. If they're lucky maybe the dogs will eat him. The teacher doesn't notice their deception.

Mizuki waves his thanks and, apparently having hit a second wind, takes off across the field. Iruka reaches them then, standing in silence with the pair for a stretching moment as Mizuki crosses the schoolyard and heads into the streets beyond.  Then, all three are laughing to the point of wheezing, bent over themselves on the sidewalk in front of the school.

“How long do you figure he planned that?” Shikami asks, once they’ve got themselves back under control. 

“Weeks,” Kakashi says at the same time as Iruka answers:

“Ten, fifteen minutes.” and that sets them off again. 

“He is, you know,” Kakashi says, when they’re done wheezing and Iruka is wiping his eyes.

“Hm?” Shikami asks, leaning back against the tree.

“Naruto, he’s a good kid.”

“He is,” Iruka echoes. “He said you bought him ramen.” Shikami nods, considering his moment, then heaves a sigh. It was nice to laugh.

“What is it about him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do people treat Uzumaki Naruto like he’s a monster? He’s the son of heroes.” both men go perfectly still.

“What makes you say that?” Kakashi asks carefully. Shikami raises his eyebrows.

“Is it not common knowledge?”

“No,” says Iruka tightly, “It’s a top secret.” Shikami does his very best impression of surprise – it’s not bad if he does say so himself. 

“I have working eyes and the ability to count backwards from eleven.” he says, jerking his chin at the Hokage monument in the distance. “Not that S-class secrets are any of my business.”

“Now the smugness, that’s much more Nara,” says Kakashi, who seems to accept the answer as reasonable and expected. “You know why they treat him like that, don't you?”

Shikami shrugs, “I have an idea, but … no matter why, he’s a good kid. I don’t like it.”

“We can agree on that,” Iruka says, calming down as the conversation steers away from guarded village secrets. “He’s fond of you already, you know, thinks you’re very cool.”

“Unfortunately, I’m really not.”

“Surviving twelve years in Mist is no small feat.” Kakashi’s eye widens a little, looking Shikami over with renewed interest. Great, he'll be a dog with a bone until he finds out Shika's skill level.

“Not an experience I’m keen to tell a child about, but sure. I’ll do my best to live up to it, I’m sure Inoka will too. Kid deserves more people in his corner.”

“Thank you,” Iruka says softly, then a grin splits his features again. “And if you’d let Yamanaka Inoka know she’s my personal hero next time you see her, I’d appreciate it. Sakura and Ino have been fighting for years .”

“I’ll let her know. But I should warn you, I think she’s teaching them to shoot senbon at the moment.”

“I’ll take that trade.” Iruka stretches, cracking his back, and shoots them one more smile. “Anyways, I have grading to get to. Thanks for worrying about Naruto, both of you.” Shikami nods, while Kakashi just eye-smiles at him.

As Iruka leaves, the copy-nin's gaze turns assessing and predatory. “Half your life on mission is one thing. Twelve years in the Bloody Mist is a feat .” of course it is, it was the only place they could think of dangerous enough to explain instincts forged in the end of the world. Shikami just shrugs.

“It's nothing as impressive as it sounds.” the copy-nin has begun to walk, and the chunin follows, willingly being corralled into what he guesses will be a spar. Kakashi’s never liked unknown variables. They're alike that way.

“Don't be humble, being as young as you were, once war tensions had settled I'm surprised they didn't pull you out…” he frowns, sliver of visible brow furrowing. “They lost your file?”

“I'm not sure that's your business.” 

“I…no. You're right, it's not my business. Sorry.” Shikami sighs, heading into the forest towards training ground three.

“It's fine, Kakashi-san. You're not wrong.”

“That's a rough lot.”

“Yeah, well, Inoka and I made it back. Now are you going to keep leading me into the woods ominously, or did you want to ask for a spar.” 

“Fine, spar?” 

“Sure.” This should be interesting. Kakashi’s right though, he could do to burn off some energy. 

•••

Ino's new cousin is probably the coolest person Sakura has ever met. 

Ino called off their feud today (weird), and invited her to train (weirder), and even apologised for making fun of her forehead (unprecedented). Today has been great, and Ino's been talking about her cousin all day. Sakura is a very good paper ninja, and top of her class. She knows how to connect evidence. Yamanaka Inoka showed up, and got Sakura her best friend back, and now she’s going to teach them to throw senbon. 

Training ground eighteen is one of the smallest, just a clearing sandwiched between the village walls and the forest within, with targets painted on each of the trees at different heights and angles. A row of straw training dummies stands against the wall, targets on their torsos and head. The three of them sit in a ring in the centre, finishing the snacks Inoka had shoved into their hands while they walked. Sakura had tried to say she wasn’t hungry, which had only earned her a deeply unimpressed look from the kunoichi. She’ll have to make up the calories somewhere else later. Maybe she can skip dinner?

Inoka is watching Ino, squinting a little as the younger Yamanaka carefully folds the wrapper from her sandwich. “You didn’t eat breakfast,” she murmurs. Ino stiffens a little, but keeps folding the wrapper.

“I was running late.”

“Okay, then you must be hungry. Finish your sandwich.” Sakura, now that she's looking for it, sees the way the wrapper bulges around the chunk of food she’s trying to hide. “I know that you like turkey, I checked with your mother. Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” Inoka scoffs. 

“How about you, Sakura-chan? Did you eat breakfast?” Sakura nods. “And you finished your sandwich?” another nod, and she presents the wrapper as evidence. “Good. And you’re planning to skip dinner to make up for it, are you?” Is this some sort of Yamanaka mind-reading technique? Sakura locks eyes with Ino. She seems just as surprised, so probably not.

“No, ma’am.” Sakura lies. Inoka raises one eyebrow, running a hand over her braids.

“Don’t bother to lie to someone you’re not sure you can convince. And never lie to an ally if you can help it.” 

“Yes, Inoka-san.” she whispers. 

“Good. Now, I’m not going to patronize the two of you by asking whether you really want to be shinobi. You’re smart, and motivated, and less than a year from when the village deems you old enough to die. What I will ask you, and I want you to be perfectly honest with me, is this: if you die out there in the field, do you think anyone will feel better because you look skinny in the coffin?” What? Before Sakura can fully process the question, Inoka barrels on. “Did you know starvation is one of the top ten shinobi causes of death? If you get stranded somewhere, or if you’re too injured to travel, most ninja can find shelter enough to avoid exposure, but provisions only stretch so far. More than fatality statistics, hunger is distracting, it slows you down. If you can’t protect your teammate’s back, if they die because you get there too slow, will you sleep better at night knowing you’re slim ?” Sakura shakes her head, feeling the blood drain from her face. Ino grabs for her hand, just as pale, and Sakura feels very, very small all of a sudden, and not in the way she thought she wanted.

Inoka breathes through her gritted teeth, but when she speaks again her tone is soft and kind. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry that nobody’s warned you properly of the risks of dieting, I’m sorry that we put peoples’ lives on your shoulders before you’re even teenagers. I’m sorry shinobi society lets its kunoichi try to bear civilian beauty standards. But you’re going to have to choose between starving yourselves and being strong enough to guard each others’ backs eventually, and I would rather scare you now than have one of you make that choice over the other’s grave.” 

Ino’s nails are leaving grooves in her hand, and Sakura grips back just as hard. Her best friend is staring right through her cousin, processing. Then, very slowly, Ino unwraps the half-eaten sandwich and takes a bite. Inoka's relieved sigh sounds more like someone has punched her. She ghosts a hand over Ino's head, heaving shaky breaths.

“thank you, clover.” Ino nods, takes another bite. 

Sakura feels a little like she might cry. She knows the casualty statistics, memorised them down to twenty a year ago for a survival skills test, but they've just been numbers in her head, not something that could happen to her. She remembers something Ino said at lunch, that Inoka-san is a mednin, that she fought in the war. 

From the emotion in her voice, Sakura knows starvation isn't just an abstract idea to Inoka. But when she thinks about it now, she thinks it's probably something she can picture easily, maybe on someone she knew well.

Ino finishes her sandwich, waving the wrapper at her cousin. Inoka laughs a shaky laugh, snatching the wax paper from the air. 

“Enough doom and gloom. Everyone's got fuel for exercise now, and believe I promised some training.” Sakura forces the heavy thoughts to the back of her mind, excited at the prospect of learning.

•••

Inoka had half forgotten about the dieting. It had gone by the wayside by the time they were chunin. It probably would have again, regardless of interfering time travellers, but given how much Inoka is banking on changing before the two girls make chunin, she’s not willing to chance it. 

And, okay, maybe she’s a little haunted by the sunken eyes and jutting ribs they’d all borne during the war. Maybe she can still see the signs of malnutrition in Shikami, and in the mirror. Maybe the idea of wasting a single scrap of food panics here a little.

Still, they needed to know better, and Kami knows proper nutrition isn’t in the Academy curriculum. She could have done without the reminder today, though.

“All right, let’s start with what we already know. Okay?” the pair nods. Inoka pulls out a senbon from the new pack Shikami had bullied her into buying. (“are you really willing to risk giving them your old ones to practice with? Knowing what kind of poisons they’ve had on them”) and holds it out in the palm of her hand. “Sakura-chan, what’s a senbon?”

“A senbon is a double-tipped needle used both in medical contexts and as a projectile weapon for shinobi. Senbon are often paired with other techniques or poison to increase effectiveness.” 

“Very good,” Inoka says, and thinks nerd fondly. “And, Ino-chan, how would I go about throwing a senbon?” 

“Um… a single senbon can be gripped between the tips of your fingers, or launched from a wrist launcher. Several can be thrown at once when held between multiple fingers.”

“And?” Inoka presses. Ino furrows her brow, but shakes her head after a moment. Sakura fares no better when Inoka looks to her. “And,” she says, clenching the needle between her teeth and speaking around it. “In a pinch, you can do this.” she nods towards the closest tree to draw their attention, then spits the senbon at the bullseye. It lodges there, right in the centre. She’s not good enough to deflect a shuriken with it, but everyone who worked in T&I taught her something, and Genma is no exception. 

“Wow!” Says Sakura.

“Cool!” Exclaims Ino. 

“No trying that,” Inoka says before they can go getting ideas. “Not until you can hit your targets a hundred out of a hundred times all the other ways.”

“But–”

“No buts, Ino-chan. If one of you inhales a needle we'll never have a training session again and your mothers will hang me by my thumbs off the hokage monument.”

Ino pokes at the dirt with her foot, pouting. “Fine.”

“Aw, cheer up. Once you get to ten in a row, we’ll lure Shikami out here with us and you can use him for target practice.” that cheers them up pretty quickly. 

Inoka has them each hold the senbon, first just one, then building up the three. She corrects each of their forms carefully, not letting them practice until she’s satisfied. 

The girls are determined and patient, taking each tiny tweak to their form seriously and rarely needing to be corrected twice. Sakura, in particular, is like a flower turning to the sun with every bit of attention she’s shown, since she’s used to falling by the wayside as a civilian-born girl who’s smart enough not to need remedial help. Inoka is willing to cut Iruka some slack – their class is a handful like the Academy has never seen and he does his best to give everyone at least some time – but it kills her to see the way Sakura is being put close to last. 

Inoka will just have to compensate. 

When their static form is flawless and she’s run them through the motion with no needles a dozen times, she finally sets the girls up in front of two straw dummies on the opposite ends of the line against the wall. Crossing her fingers that a five dummy buffer should keep any stray senbon from hitting each other or the girls if they spin out of control, Inoka gives them twenty-five needles each and sets them to practicing. 

“Don’t worry about the actual targets, for now. Today we’re just trying to hit the dummies.” with that she heads over to retrieve the one embedded in the tree, only to find it’s already gone.

Speak of the devil. 

“Not bad technique, a little off-centre.” Genma says by way of greeting. Inoka snorts, holding out a hand for her senbon. He drops it into her hand.

“Thanks, Tips. Wanna tell me why you’re spying on pre-genin.”

“Oh, I’m not, I’m spying on you.”

“Comforting, and you are?”

“Shiranui Genma, and what can I say? You’re the hot gossip.”

“Am I, then? Nice to meet you, Genma-san.”

“First name basis? How forward.”

“Only the best for my stalker,” louder, she says, “plant your feet, Ino!” the girls are nowhere close to the targets, but she’ll be happy if they hit the dummies even once today, so it’s to be expected. “Yamanaka Inoka, by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure, Inoka-kun. Aren’t they a little young to be starting on senbon?”

“All knowledge is good knowledge.”

“Spoken like a true Yamanaka. And yeah, two clan shinobi turning up after years, you’re all anyone is talking about.”

“Shikami will be thrilled,” she deadpans.

“Anyway, I wasn’t really stalking you, just came by for some target practice. I’ll head out.”

“You’re welcome to stay, there’s plenty of targets,” she gestures to the trees behind them, then nods towards the girls. “And I wouldn’t turn down an expert’s help.”

“Who says I’m an expert?”

“I’m an expert, so you’d better be, if you’re critiquing my form.” she casts a significant glance to the senbon that hasn’t left his mouth throughout the conversation. Genma laughs, plucking one of the senbon that come flying vaguely their direction as the girls notice their intruder out of the air a foot to his left. Inoka would scold their lack of awareness, but they’re children within the safety of the walls, and she knows they trust her to be on guard for that sort of danger.  “Good distance on those, girls, but try not to impale any tokubetsu, please.” Genma just laughs harder. Ino squeaks, both girls blushing scarlet to the tips of their ears. “No harm done, keep practicing.”

“Oh, wow, sharp-tongued and cool-headed. I think I’m in love.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Inoka has long since learned how to suppress that full-face blush her younger self is wearing, but the tips of her ears go a little hot.

“Seriously, though, I’m surprised Inoichi hasn’t bullied you into T&I yet.”

“I’m on leave,” it’s true, pending a full psych screening conducted by Inoichi and medical field clearance. They won’t be allowed on mission for at least a week, and Inoka’s banking on Inoichi refusing to clear them for out-of-village work for at least a month, given what he knows of their mental states. It’s sort of baffling to have the luxury of proper medical procedure, but she’s not complaining. 

“And?”

“And he’s already dropping hints.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Sakura’s senbon grazes the top of the target, bouncing off the wall behind. “Hey, uh, pinkie, your wrist is too stiff.” Sakura looks to Inoka for confirmation.

“Keep your arm bent but relaxed when you release, Sakura-chan,” she confirms. She makes the adjustment, and the next try she manages to get the needle caught in the hay. “Just like that, perfect. Now see if you can do it again.” just then, Ino’s senbon gets embedded in the wood at the base of the dummy. 

“Keep your elbow bent,” Genma calls to her. The little Yamanaka nods resolutely, sticking the tip of her tongue out in concentration. It takes her five more tries, during which Sakura doesn’t so much as graze the dummy, but she hits it. 

“Good job, Ino-chan.”

“Now see if you can do it again,” Genma tacks on. He’s hiding how impressed he is from the pre-genin, but they both know the girls are getting it incredibly quick. Inoka, of course, knew they’d do well from experience, but Genma’s discovering natural talent in real time. “This really their first time?” Inoka nods. 

“Pretty good, eh?’

“Better than pretty good. Keep them practicing a few years and they’ll be bloody terrors.”

“I’m counting on it.” the tokubetsu grins at her response, showing all of his teeth.

“And vicious on top of it all. Oh yes, you and I are going to get along just fine.”

Chapter Text

They've gathered an audience. Iruka would have been one thing, since he was just with them. But he must really have marking to do, since there's no sign of him.

Gai would have been another, but Shikami finds out he's out on team three's first ever C rank. This has the effect of not only reminding Shika of how fucked his sense of time is, but also telling him he's not just sparring against Kakashi – a questionable decision in the first place – but against a bored Kakashi at that. Too late to back out now. 

It's neither of those somewhat understandable options who find them at training ground three while they're stretching, though. 

No, it's Mitarashi fucking Anko. 

With Anko's specific brand of chaos comes Ibiki (Shikami doesn't even want to know what they're doing out here together, but he's sure it's gruesome) and in due time, Kurenai. And, because he's already faced the rest of his ghosts today, where Kurenai goes, Asuma follows. 

Seeing him doesn't hurt as much as Shikami thought it would. It hurts, certainly, but as brutal as it was, Asuma-sensei’s death is one of the few he actually had time to process. Him being here, smoking and laughing with his open-secret of a partner, fixes something Shikami didn't know could still be fixed. Of course he's here, and whole. That's the way he remembers Asuma. It's the way he should be. It's all he wanted for a long time.

“Stage fright?” Asks the silver-haired jonin. Right, bored Kakashi. It was nice to see everyone before he dies. 

“Didn't peg you for a trash-talker.” Shikami quips back, returning to his stretching. 

“Didn't peg you for a shrinking violet.” On the far side of the clearing, Anko ‘ooo's.

“Who are you people?” Shikami calls, stretching until the knee that hasn't worked quite right since he was seventeen pops.

“Your worst nightmare!” Calls Anko. Shikami glances at Kakashi for context, but only gets a nod.

“Bored jonin,” Asuma clarifies.

“That is my worst nightmare,” Shikami mutters. Then calls back: “you know I'm just a normal chunin, right? This is harassment!”

“Quit stalling.” 

“Calm down, I'm trying not to have a career ending injury.” despite his grumbling, Shikami stands and sticks his hands in his pockets – the unofficial Nara ready position. He finds a couple kunai in one pocket, and a smoke grenade in the other. “Let's get this over with, then.”

“Try not to sound too excited.”

“About whatever weird recon you're all doing? While I'm on leave?” Kakashi stands across from him, relaxed and ready.

“Normal chunin don't survive over a decade in the Bloody Mist, Shikami-kun. Not with nobody knowing they're there. You expect us not to be curious?” he hadn't, really, but there's always hope.

“Fine, fine. I could use the exercise.” He's only protesting out of habit, really. They stand there for a moment, sizing each other up, waiting. On the far side of the clearing, the group goes silent in anticipation.

The instant Kakashi moves, Shikami is gone, swapping with a branch bobbing in the pond, then a leaf at the edge of the tree line in quick succession. The jonin is already giving chase, and Shikami waits for him to be just within range before deploying the smoke grenade, which starts billowing dark smoke immediately. Shikami flickers out of the smoke into a tree, snaking a shadow out of the cloud of smoke. Kakashi is a half-step ahead, but he still catches his foot with the shadow, throwing the copy-nin a little off balance.

Shikami's strategy is focused around distance, since he knows his limits enough to see just how badly a taijutsu or kenjutsu based battle will go for him. Given that, he takes the moment Kakashi spends steadying to put further distance between then, retreating into the shadows of the forest.

When the jonin follows, Shikami grips his first kunai, throwing it directly in his line of sight as the flash bomb goes off. While Kakashi has his eyes closed against the flash, the Nara whips the second kunai at him. Kakashi dodges in time to avoid serious injury, but the blade grazes his cheek and draws first blood.

The time traveller stays on the defensive, but he knew going into this that would be the case. He lodges a shuriken in the tree, jumps to another, and repeats the process with a variety of weapons. 

Kakashi is coming at him from three sides now, shadow clones entering the fray as the other man gets a feeling for how Shikami fights and gets into it. Out comes the tanto, and it's all Shikami can do to stay within the trees, dropping kunai and shuriken as he ducks and dodges. One of the clones lands a punch on his bad knee and it buckles, forcing the Nara to roll with impact. 

“What did I just say about career-ending injuries?” He hisses, jumping out of the way of a wave of water bullets. His own fault, calling attention to the weakness like that, but worth the trade off of properly stretching it. It's important to remember it's a spar. No enemy ever wore Kakashi’s face, so he can mostly convince himself it's fine. 

Shikami drops another smoke grenade, climbing the closest tree high enough that he's swaying in the wind. Kakashi has no trouble following, but he was banking on that. 

From his place high in the tree, with the afternoon sun high overhead, the Nara's shadow stretches down the trunk of the tree. The moment Kakashi makes contact with it, Shikami binds him at the wrist and the ankle. Other tendrils of his shadow snake out to scoop up the weapons he's dropped in a rough circle, surrounding the copy-nin. 

He lets a couple fly, popping the clones, then leaps away on instinct when he tastes ozone, seconds before a bolt of purple lightning strikes his position. 

Kakashi has managed to free his wrist enough to properly dodge the onslaught of small weaponry.  While his leg is still engulfed up to the shin, that won't last long either. 

The jonin wrenches his ankle free and lunges with his tanto just as Shikami pulls out his chakra blade – not Asuma's, which is tucked safely under a floorboard at the Nara main house, but a decent replacement – wreathing it in shadows. Kakashi narrows his visible eye, and Shikami barely gets his blade up in time to block the tanto. 

The forest morphs into a charred battlefield, Kakashi to a puppet of Ino. Shikami pulses his chakra reflexively, staggering a step and earning a slice to his left arm for his effort. The vision fades.

Fine, asshole. Enough messing around, then.

Shika lashes out with his chakra blade, the shadows boiling around him as Kakashi pushes him back towards the open clearing.

The shadows don't fade when they leave the shade of the trees, and the next time Kakashi strikes he grips the tanto with shadow and rips it away. Just a spar he reminds himself forcefully, because the moment of surprise when the shadow moves with precision the enemy didn't know was possible is when he usually cuts their throat.

Shikami is very good with his clan gifts, better than any before him. He's certainly had motivation to be.

He lashes out with a hell-viewing technique of his own, just out of spite, and catches Kakashi enough to make the man flinch. 

“Point taken.”

“Good,” the Nara growls back, putting some distance between them before Kakashi can take his arm off with a chidori. Seems they're both having a bit of trouble remembering where the line is. 

There's a flurry of blows, chakra blade spinning off in the opposite direction from the tanto. When the dust settles the former assassin holds his lightning to Shika's throat, only to find shadows closing around his own. 

“All right, enough!” Calls a voice he hadn't expected. Shikami would turn his head to greet Inoichi, but he's not keen to move with one of the deadliest assassination jutsu ever created at his throat. “I'd say that's a fair draw.” The two combatants stare each other down for another few seconds, then Shikami breaks into a grin. The chidori fizzles to nothing, the shadows retreat. 

“Now that was fun .” The time traveller says. It's nice to have the energy to waste on a spar, nicer to have a sparring partner he trusts to match his intensity. 

“Just a chunin my ass.” Kakashi says, but he sounds just as pleased. 

“I am a chunin, Kakashi-san.”

“A wartime chunin who hasn't been tested for promotion in at least a dozen years.”

“Nonetheless, a chunin.” He waves lazily at the unimpressed head of T&I as they head over to the little group of spectators, both catching their breath.

“And a chunin returning from a long mission, at that. One on leave pending his medical checks.” The gawkers shuffle away from Inoichi, with Anko and Ibiki looking especially wary. Kakashi glances at Shikami skeptically. 

“Seems to be in fighting form.”

Inoichi stares the silver-haired man down, shifting the look to Shikami when the glare proves futile. Shikami, who was desensitized to that glare before he entered the academy, stares directly back and very deliberately lights a cigarette. 

“I was under the impression that regular exercise is healthy.”

“Regular exercise, yes. Sparring with deadly force, no.”

“If it was deadly force he would've been dead.” Shikami says in time with Kakashi, and doesn't realise who he stole the saying from until he's doing so. The copy-nin doesn't seem to find it strange, just snorts, jabbing a thumb at him.

“Exactly.”

Inoichi, always wise enough to recognize a losing battle, sighs and drops the matter. He turns his ire towards the two wayward T&I employees who are wandering around the training grounds in the middle of the work day.

“Well,” says Shikami, not interested in sticking around for the scolding, “I have an appointment to beat a child at shogi. Nice meeting you all.” He waves, turning towards the village.

“Hey, Mister ‘normal chunin’, meet us at the Bingo Book later,” says Asuma as he's walking away.

The Bingo Book is a shinobi bar Shika associates mostly with the place all of their sensei would go to hide after shoving the rookie nine together to ‘bond’ for the day. Joke was on them, it took a war to make that group get along. Genin entry isn't forbidden so much as it's heavily restricted, and it was crushed in Orochimaru’s invasion. It was just reopening when Pain invaded, and then the war ended the world so there wasn't much time to drink. Shikami has never set foot inside.

Drinks sound okay, he certainly needs this lot to like him – for the good of their mission, of course.

And if it has the added benefit of letting Shikami form new bonds, to put down roots after leaving everyone but Ino behind, it's just a happy coincidence. He's always been efficient. 

“Yeah, all right.” 

•••

Having found a new skill to master, the girls don't want to stop practicing, even when it starts to get dark. 

Inoka and Genma had started and finished their own competition in the time – sitting with their backs against one edge of the clearing while spitting senbon at a target on the far edge – with Genma soundly destroying the time traveller. 

Now they're just sitting, Genma filling her in on all the shinobi news Ino's too young to know or to think is important. Asuma and Kurenai still think they're sneaky; not surprising that everyone already knows. Tensions are high between the Inuzuka and the Hyuga over which recon unit should be on a high profile mission; they'll be over it by the end of the month. Tsunade's been spotted in the Land of Tea at the same time as Jiraya; nice to know roughly where two of the three sanin are.

Once the sun is at the tree line and it's dark enough that more practice will be dangerous, she has the girls gather as many senbon as they can find and tuck them into their packs, then the four of them walk back to the village proper. 

They drop Sakura off at home with a quiet reminder to eat her dinner, and a promise from Ino to walk with her to school the next morning. It has the double effect of making sure the girls reinforce their still-healing bond, and Mebuki letting Sakura get to and from school without direct parent supervision. One less thing for bullies to latch onto, but still safer.

Inoka half expected Genma to peel off once they got back to the city center, but he stays with them through the civilian district – expressing how incredibly impressed he is with Sakura's progress until her face marches her dress – and all the way to the edge of the Yamanaka compound.

Ino starts badgering the nearest gardener for poison recommendations. The tokujo twitches when he sees the excitement in said gardener's eyes, and Inoka can't really blame him. All Yamanaka have the capacity to be deeply unsettling, behind their amiable facades. It's practically a birthright. Two discussing poisons is a fair reason for concern.

Inoka leans against the wall of the compound, raising one eyebrow. “You gonna follow us all the way up to the main house, stalker?”

Genma snorts at the nickname. “nah, just wanted to see if you wanted to grab a drink with a couple of us at the Bingo Book.”

“Trying to corner me for an interrogation, Genma-san?”

“Course not.”

“Liar.”

“Mostly not that,” he corrects quickly, grinning bashfully at the speed of her call out, “figured between how long you've been out of town and the post-war chaos that was still going on when you left, you might not have a huge social group.”

That's…actually incredibly kind of him, even if it is partially information gathering. She glances at Ino, who she wants to make sure eats. The boycrazy little brat is looking right back, giving two big thumbs up and nodding. Inoka tilts her head a little, ignoring Genma’s muffled laugh, and maintains eye contact. 

Ino's pale eyes go a shade more serious. “I'll clean my plate,”

“promise?”

“promise, Inoka-nee.” Inoka swallows hard around the honorific. It had slipped out once when Ino managed to graze the actual target of the straw dummy, and when Inoka didn't immediately shoot it down her little self had latched on immediately. 

“all right, I trust you.” Ino beams, rushing towards the main house to tell her mother all about her senbon practice. Inoka looks to Genma, then down at her grass-stained work pants. “Am I going to be underdressed?”

“You look radiant.”

“You're incorrigible.”

“Is it working?”

“Do I need to change, yes or no?” Genma shakes his head, gestures to his own field attire. 

“If you are, so am I. It's a shinobi bar, Inoka-kun. If you're not covered head to toe in mud or actively bleeding out you meet the dress code.”

“All right, all right, let's go.” Despite the reassurance, Inoka nervously fusses with her hair, unbraiding it to put it up in the high ponytail that had once been her signature, then changing her mind and taking it down to hang long down her back, then changing it again and rebraiding it. 

Genma may be an incurable flirt, but he must also be a Saint, because he makes no comment beyond telling her it looks very nice at the end of each switch. 

By the time they approach the Bingo Book it's fully dark out, clouds hanging low like it might rain, and the sign's red glow is softened at the edges by mist.

Inside is nice, a cozy taproom of knife-marked wood, pictures pinned to the walls of generations of regulars dating back to not long after the founding of the village. A Konoha institution. 

Inoka has been here a couple of times with Anko-san in the future that isn't, helping with the rebuilding efforts after Orochimaru’s invasion. Anko, on friendly terms with the owner, had always been willing to help when she could find time. 

The Bingo Book staffed exclusively ex-ninja, Shinobi retired due to circumstance or injury, so every shinobi of her sensei's generation and older knew somebody who had worked here at one point. It meant a staff who could put up with their customers’ quirks – and who knew how to keep a secret if they overheard one.

In a place of honour above the bar is a shot of Gai, his arm out as if around someone's shoulders, and a blurry blob of green-navy-silver that is almost certainly Kakashi. The plaque has ‘photo proof of Hatake Kakashi socializing’ engraved in gold.

Judging by the shit-eating grin on Genma’s face, and the way he keeps glancing between the photo and real-life Kakashi, Inoka knows who Gai conspired with to get said proof. Genin teammates for life, right?

They grab drinks, placing orders for greasy dinner at the counter, then make their way over to Kakashi, who sits in a booth with his back to a corner and his eyes on the exits. He's bracketed by Ibiki to one side and Tenzo to the other. Also in the big corner booth are Asuma, Kurenai, Raidou, Anko, and a haggard looking Iruka. 

Inoka slides into the space beside Iruka, the only face she's allowed to find familiar, and breathes a little easier knowing she was in nearly as good a paranoia position as Kakashi. Genma sits opposite her, beside his most common mission partner in Raidou.

“Nosy people, the mysterious Yamanaka Inoka.” She smiles

“Nice to meet you all, Genma cornered me in the woods and followed me around until I agreed to come.” Genma gasps theatrically, hand to his chest.

“That is a deeply uncharitable way of putting what happened.” Inoka just gives him an innocent smile. “Fine, I'm not introducing you to anyone.”

“Genma-san, that's no way to treat a lady.”  She reprimands playfully, and he laughs but nods, pointing each person out.

“Fine, fine. Iruka, I'm assuming you've already met?”

“a couple of times.” She agrees.

“Right, well beside him we have the T&I terror twins, Anko and Ibiki, you'll see a lot of them if Inoichi manages to wear you down.” 

“Fresh meat?” Asks Anko, at the same time Ibiki says:

“I look forward to working with you,” Ibiki might be infinitely more polite, but they both have the same sharpness to their eyes, like bloodhounds catching a scent. T&I is chronically understaffed.

“Beside the deranged duo is Kakashi, the only person I know both lazier and busier than Nara Shikaku.” Inoka snorts at that. 

“The guy who's been following Shika around, right?” Kakashi, who had been looking at her in as polite a gesture as he ever makes, buries his nose in his Icha Icha and refuses to answer.

Tenzo, seeing this won't go anywhere, nods. “The very same. I'm Tenzo, by the way. Pleasure to meet you, Inoka-san. Welcome back to the village.” Tenzo has a near perfect poker face, but the time-traveller doesn't need to see it to know that he’s analyzing her, trying to determine if she's another ROOT defectee.

“Can you blame a man for being curious about the sudden appearance of two chunin?” Mutters Kakashi, which earns him a sharp jab to the ribs from Kurenai.

“Not at all,” Inoka assures. “I'd probably do the same.” Kakashi nods, glaring pointedly at Kurenai and looking mollified by Inoka's easy agreement. 

“Beside Tenzo,” Genma continues, “is genjutsu-master extraordinaire, Kurenai.” Kurenai waves, still keeping one disapproving eye on Kakashi.

“always nice to add another kunoichi to the group, it can be a bit of a boy's club.” 

“we'll take over eventually,” Inoka promises, earning a high five from Anko. 

“none of you know yet how terrifying that alliance is, but we should all be very afraid,” assures Genma. “next to Kurenai is Asuma…”

Inoka tunes out the description of Asuma, focusing on keeping her breathing steady and her expression casual, cataloguing the rise and fall of his chest and sparkle of his eyes. Finding all the ways to distinguish this man from his porcelain-masked puppet while exchanging pleasantries on auto pilot. She must do a passable job, because nobody seems to notice.

“And finally Raidou, my fellow tokujo, a kenjutsu specialist and all around badass.” 

“Genma’s all right himself,” Raidou admits, then looks to Inoka “although he talks too much on mission. Heard you were in Mist, nice job getting back in one piece.” Genma takes spluttering exception to the comment about talking to much, neatly taking the focus of the conversation off of her before she can get overwhelmed.

“Rough day, sensei?” Inoka askes Iruka as the group splinters back into several conversations.

“Aha, after you left with Ino and Sakura there was an…incident involving Naruto and Mizuki.”

Inoka's chakra spikes just for a moment, worried and protective, and she knows anger flashes across her face. “What did he do?” 

If Naruto was hurt she would know, Shikami would have told her or she would feel it in his chakra. She searches for it anyway, just to reassure herself, and when she tunes back in two seconds later the mood of the table has shifted. 

Eyes are trained on her, or pretending not to be, expressions ranging from suspicion to outright disapproval. She hadn't thought any of these people were particularly close with Mizuki, except Iruka. The teacher chuckles tightly, rubbing the back of his neck, “nothing to be concerned about, Inoka-san, just a bit of a prank.”

“What?”

“He loves a good prank,” Genma puts in, no trace of a smile on his face for the first time since they re-met. “But he's a good kid.” Kid? Mizuki isn't that much younger than – oh.

“Naruto?” She asks, baffled. She thought she'd been friendly enough with the boy for them to know she would never think so poorly of him, but clearly she needs to be crystal clear on this point. It's nice, in a way, that no matter how little they were allowed to help, Naruto always had more people in his corner than he knew. 

“...yes,” Genma agrees.

“Naruto pulled a prank on Mizuki. That's the ‘incident’?” There are a round of nods, more confused than hostile now. “Oh, good for him. What did he do?” The confusion holds for a second, then Kakashi of all people laughs and turns back to his food. Taking his cue, Genma, Raidou, and Tenzo relax as well. Genma goes so far as to flash her a slightly perplexed smile. 

“He, uh, might have dyed his hair purple.” Inoka laughs, thanking the waitress as her order comes around. 

“Oh, bet he hated that.”

“He wasn't thrilled,” Iruka hedges, slowly untensing. 

“He chased him across half the city, actually,” Kakashi clarifies. 

“Seems like an overreaction.” She purses her lips.

“Doesn't it?” The copy-nin agrees. He's more at ease with her than he was even when she first arrived, even while the rest of the table is a little tense.

Anko, powder keg that she is, refuses to let it lie. “All right, hang on, what just happened here? Huh?” Ibiki nods once in support. They went so early in the war, she recalls with grief that's as fond as it is heavy. Iruka, Anko, Ibiki. Her whole side of the table died protecting the children.

“It's my mistake, Anko-san,” she assures. “Mizuki was being… unfair to Naruto earlier today. I was worried he'd upset him more.” This seems to calm the rest of the table, except Iruka who only looks more distressed. 

“See!” Yells Anko, pointing at Inoka triumphantly. “I told you, Iruka! Something's not right about him! Back me up, Inoka-chan.” Well, she certainly got over her distrust quickly. 

“Oh, well I did only meet him the once, so I don't know how qualified I am to comment.” Anko pouts. “But, I will say he made a spectacularly bad first impression, basically told us Naruto was a waste of our time, tore into him for talking to us, but didn't so much as comment on the other kids doing the same.”

“Plus,” adds Kakashi, “The look on his face when he chased Naruto was straight rage. That's not an emotion you want to see on a teacher towards a student.” Iruka hums, nodding his agreement at the jonin and looking into his cup.

“He's always been a little intense,” the teacher says, not sounding like he fully believes it. Anko opens her mouth to double down, but shuts it again with a glance from Ibiki. 

“So,” says Raidou, fishing around for something to change the topic to, leaving Iruka to process. “How purple are we talking?” He looks to Kakashi, but the answer comes from a new voice, its owner dragging a chair up to the end of the table beside Inoka. 

“ Violently purple,” Shikami says, “I mean bright, bright fuchsia.” He slumps into the chair, setting a drink on the table as he greets the table. “Hello bored jonin, Iruka-sensei, total strangers.” Each group greets him in turn, Iruka only waving distractedly. She feels sort of bad for bringing up her concerns, but he needs to find out somehow. She doesn't want him literally stabbed in the back again.

“Why are you limping?” She asks, turning her attention to her partner.

“What?” Asks Shikami, looking hunted. “Oh, uh, no big deal, Ino. Just took a hit to a weak point.”

“Took a hit?” He nods too casually. She scans the table, notices a bandage on Kakashi’s cheek that wasn't there when he was up the tree. “Sparring, Shika? When you're supposed to be on medical leave?” He just shrugs, grinning unrepentantly now that he's been caught. “I'm telling Inoichi on you.” Genma and Raidou, who have been watching the scolding with unrestrained glee, finally burst out laughing.

“He already knows,” Ibiki says, as the laughter spreads to Tenzo, then Asuma, Iruka, and then the rest. 

It's not that funny, but two people made it home from an impossible mission, and Naruto got a small revenge, and the worst injury between them is a jarred knee, and the village might be rotten at its core, but everyone at this table wants it to be better. Everyone here at this moment believes it can be better.

Inoka laughs, and sees Shikami laugh, and looks into the faces of long-dead allies who are alive enough to help stop the apocalypse, and thinks: they're alive, we're not alone . They’re here and they're alive. Remembers what home feels like, and thinks she feels it now for the first time in years.

Chapter Text

The end of the week flows into the beginning of the next quietly – or at least as quietly as any week passes when one is as busy as Iruka. This is good because he has time to think, and bad for the same reason.

Mizuki's always been intense, like he said at the bar, but he's Iruka's oldest friend. He's known him even longer than he has Anko, and Mizuki has never been anything but kind.

Besides, they work at the same school, they work with the same kids. How would he not know if the kind of prejudice Inoka and Kakashi described – and the kinds they had only carefully implied – was happening under his nose.

He trusts the group of friends Anko has dragged him forcibly into, but there's no denying they're…hypervigilant at times. As happy as he is that there are so many strong shinobi on the little jinchuriki's side, crazy is a prerequisite of making any rank above chunin.

Inoka and Shikami may technically be chunin, but given one is being headhunted by most of T&I, and the other apparently went toe to toe with Kakashi in a spar, he feels safe including them in the assessment.

Ultimately, he's a shinobi to his bones and a teacher at least as deep. Even if his friends can be a little overprotective, a group of adults is telling him a fellow teacher is discriminating against his student, he's always going to investigate. 

He doesn't have to look very far, to his enduring shame, once he knows what to look for it's everywhere. Not to Naruto, not immediately, and never when he knows Iruka is watching, but the behaviour pattern that had led Inoka to assume Mizuki was the source of the incident last week is clear. 

He ignores the civilian-born kids when they need help as much as he can get away with, but is quick to scold them for the smallest misbehaviour. The opposite is true of the clan heirs, and especially Sasuke. No matter how rude the Uchiha is to an instructor, or how his derision verges on cruelty to fellow students, Mizuki has nothing but fawning praise for him.

Iruka cuts Sasuke just as much slack as he does Naruto, but no student is above reproach like that. It's deeply concerning behaviour. How long has Iruka missed it, just by trusting Mizuki to be good?

And, on a more practical level, how is he supposed to prove it now that he does know? Mizuki is careful, never going beyond what could be considered normal for a frustrated adult surrounded by children. There's a small but dedicated group of jonin he knows have his back, but if anyone in that group could do anything, they already would have.

The only one Iruka can see the man willing to pull something bad enough against to not have the complaint immediately dismissed is Naruto. 

There are several problems with that solution. For one thing, neither the headmaster nor the Hokage's small council could give a fuck if Naruto is being bullied. He knows, he's tried. 

For another, infinitely stranger thing, any torment Mizuki might want to inflict on the Uzumaki after the purple hair prank is being blocked. After years of mostly ignoring him, complaining about him, or snickering at his pranks, the clan kids (and Sakura, of course, now that she's glued at the hip to Ino again) have closed rank around Naruto.

It started on the day Shikami and Inoka stopped by the academy at lunch. 

Ino had been giving Naruto strange looks all morning, but things didn't really change until after the pair at the fence had gone. Ino and Sakura had stuck to Naruto through recess, the three taking turns on the swing. Naruto had looked a little terrified by the positive attention, and more so when the girls insisted he sit with them when the break was over. Strange, but given Ino's new hero-worship of Inoka, not that surprising. 

Except it doesn't stop there. The next day, Shikamaru is paying attention. Iruka scolds him constantly for zoning out, but the truth is he knows the Nara heir could have graduated years ago if early graduation were still allowed. It's not a wonder why he's always bored. 

Paying attention for a whole morning is unprecedented. And yet he does, just not to the lesson. Shikamaru spends the whole morning watching Naruto and the girls once again sitting with him, then recess alternating between squinting at Mizuki and the trio. At the end of the lunch break he mutters something to Choji. The Akimichi’s eyes widen, and he stares at Naruto for a long moment, then heads over to the swingset, offering Sakura and Naruto some of his snacks. Shikamaru follows, whispering what seems to be a question in Ino's ear. Ino, serious in a way she rarely shows, nods sharply. After the break, Ino and Sakura sit on one side of Naruto, Shikamaru and Choji on the other.

Naruto spends the entire weekend bouncing between cautious optimism and outright panic, and by Monday Iruka is far behind on his marking but the kid is mostly convinced the others aren't tricking him. 

Monday morning, Naruto shows up on time, relaxing a little at the sight of a waving Sakura and a smiling Ino, and sits with them. Before Shikamaru and Choji can wander in, though, Kiba slides into the open seat beside Naruto. Ino looks distinctly unimpressed by the addition to their group, but lets it slide when Kiba argues Naruto was ‘his prank buddy first’. Iruka can count on one hand the number of pranks those two have pulled together since they started at the academy, but Naruto doesn't point it out so neither does he. The remaining two thirds of Ino-Shika-Cho enter, see one of their seats taken, and settle into the seats just behind, watching the group's backs. 

Shino, who has been sitting in the same spot every day for years, nods to the two boys now sharing his row, and sits. He and Choji have a quiet conversation, then Shino looks over the collar of his jacket at Naruto for most of the morning. Iruka doesn't bother to call him out for being so obviously distracted, whatever is going on with these kids is far beyond his control by now. At lunch Shino comes to a decision, which Iruka sees only as a few words exchanged with Choji, and an offer to help Naruto with history when they're regaining their seats.

It takes Hinata a couple of days to work up the courage to enter the little knot of clan kids, stammering her way through asking to sit beside Kiba and Akamaru one day. She blushes scarlet when she greets Naruto, but fits right in with the group that's decided to form around the outcast. Ino leans around the blonde boy to talk to Hinata, going out of her way to compliment her hair. So far, Iruka sees only positives coming out of this little alliance. 

By the end of the week, the only clan kid not involved in the great Naruto shift – as Iruka has taken to calling it in his head – is Sasuke.  

He sits in the front, like he always does, and inadvertently completes the bubble surrounding Naruto. He has laid off on the insults towards the blonde, though, now that Naruto has enough attention to not constantly be pushing his jealous rivalry. He even helps the other boy up after a spar, once. It's a baby step, but a step at all from Sasuke is surprising.

Many of the civilian student still avoid him like the plague. Years of their parents’ outright hatred is deeply ingrained right now. Others just can't be bothered with any of it, focusing on learning what they need to graduate, or on their own personal dramas.

The strange new friend group does not stay confined to academy hours. On Thursday, Naruto went running off on his own after the prank that led to Iruka questioning everything, since Sakura and Ino had gone off into the woods with Inoka. But by the next day, a loose rotation starts to form. 

One day, Naruto heads off with Ino and Sakura to the Yamanaka compound. Another he's invited to watch the clouds with Shikamaru and Choji. Twice, Shino drags Kiba and Naruto along to the library, and Naruto puts up a token protest but is almost giddy to be invited to study together. On the following Thursday he, Kiba, and Akamaru stay on academy grounds, running around and laughing until they tire themselves out the way only two hyperactive kids and a dog can manage. Iruka takes Naruto home after that, giving the gleefully sleepy pre-genin a piggy back. Hinata can't participate, expected home as promptly as she is, and Sasuke isn't even close to that invested, but the result is remarkable. 

Naruto, who has been spending recess and after school time alone his whole life, is now constantly welcome somewhere.

Surrounded and protected as he is, anytime Mizuki so much as thinks about being unfair to Naruto now, he ends up with half a dozen clan heirs in his way. When he's unfair to the civilian kids, he's met with narrowed eyes from Shikamaru and Ino, pointed note taking from Shino and Sakura. 

It's going to be a problem, long term, that half the class has decided one of their sensei is the enemy, but in the immediate it gives Iruka enough room to breathe. And to plan his next steps.

He pointedly doesn't think about how he figured out the problem at the same speed as a gaggle of pre-genin.

Iruka thinks on it for a while, comes up against roadblock after roadblock, and eventually decides he needs a better strategist's opinion. He invites Shikami, Inoka, and Kakashi out for ramen. As the three that first brought the issue to his attention, they seem like his best bet for help.

Inoka politely declines – Ino and Sakura have managed to get permission to spend the evening with Hinata so long as it's strictly spent training, and she's promised to try and teach them tree walking. The idea of senbon-wielding little girls standing on the ceiling will haunt his nightmares, but it's good Hinata is socialising.

Kakashi agrees, but is sent out of the village on a mission before they get the chance to go. He passes Iruka on his way out of the Hokage's office, pausing to say he'll help any way he can when he gets back. There's a hard look in his eyes that leaves Iruka hoping he comes back at all. They don't know each other well, both too busy to go out with friends often, but he's a good guy. A workaholic, certainly, but who's Iruka to judge?

In the end, he and Shikami make it to the front of Ichiraku on Friday before they're interrupted. There's the barking of a dog, and the buzzing of insects, and then Naruto collides with him with about the force of a meteor strike.

“Iruka-sensei, hey Iruka-sensei are you getting ramen without me ?” Naruto asks, and Iruka's heart sinks to his shoes thinking Naruto feels left out. Then Kiba laughs, and he looks at Naruto to see he's grinning as well. 

“No fair, sensei, you're going out to eat while we have to study ?” The Inuzuka adds in, steering Shino with both hands towards the ramen stand. “You should treat us, since we've been working so hard all week.” Shino doesn't resist, just meets Iruka's eyes with a long-suffering look so potent he can read it through the dark glasses. 

“Yeah, yeah what Kiba said!” Naruto agrees, bouncing up and down in place. “C'mon, sensei, if I study any more my brain's gonna explode.”

“That seems unlikely,” says Shino. “Why? Because we haven't even gotten to the library yet.” Iruka exchanges a glance with Shikami, finds nothing but fond amusement there, and sighs dramatically.

“I suppose one night off can't hurt, can it?” He nods towards Ichiraku. Kiba and Naruto rush in, while Shino pauses to bow to the two men. The smiling corners of his mouth are visible past his high collar.

“Thank you, Iruka-sensei, Nara-san.” then he follows the others into the stall.

“Polite kid,” Shikami comments, signing talk later at his side. Iruka doesn't want to know what would make Shikami nervous enough to glance around for eavesdroppers and draw as little attention as possible to his signs within the safety of the village. Hopefully it's just habit, paranoia after years in enemy territory. Iruka doesn't really buy that, but he'll contemplate it later. 

“Good student, too.” They follow the boys into Ichiraku.

•••

Teuchi, as owner of a restaurant especially popular with shinobi, does not startle easily. This makes it extra odd when Shikami enters the shop to see the chef gaping like a fish. He eyes dart to the two chunin as they sit, wrenching them away from the trio of boys at his counter.

Shikami just smiles as reassuringly as he can, “evening Teuchi-san, I'll have the special.” 

“Same for me, please,” says Iruka.

“Coming right up,” his hands move on autopilot, still watching them. Kiba is complaining about the girls getting to do special practice. 

“Weren't you just saying you were sick of studying?” Shikami asks.

“Well…yeah. But that's boring geography and stuff. Not like super cool ninja skills.”

“‘geography and stuff’ is it? Geography is pretty important, you know, Kiba-kun.” Iruka nods his agreement. “knowing where you are, what terrain might be nearby, which direction a river flows, any of that can be life or death.” Kiba frowns, nodding slowly.

“Fine, but what about history, then? When're we gonna use that, Shikami-san?” Shikami can't exactly tell them that bogeymen from history will bring about the end of the world, but there are plenty of less dire examples. First though, he doesn't want to step on any toes. 

“Why don't you ask your sensei? Surely he knows better than I do?”

“Dodging the question!” Kiba exclaims, Akamaru barking his agreement. Iruka laughs, batting a hand. 

“No, no. I've explained it to them plenty. Besides, I'm off the clock. They're all yours.” He leans back to watch.

“History, all right,” Shikami agrees. “History is probably the most important theoretical skill you learn in the academy.”

“Theoretical?” Asks Naruto. The question is timid by Naruto standards, but nobody laughs at him for not knowing. This, more than anything, finally seems to convince Teuchi everything is okay. Shikami doesn’t blame him for the warriness, he doubts Naruto has ever been here with anyone but Iruka. Five bowls of ramen are set on the counter, and a bone for Akamaru. 

“Book learning. You know, paper ninja stuff.” Naruto nods his understanding. “Anyway, history's important for lots of shinobi life. Tells you what's influencing the political landscape for diplomatic missions, tells you what areas you should try to avoid.”

“Like the Bloody Mist,” Iruka puts in.

“Exactly like the Bloody Mist. Plus, knowing your history lets you avoid making the same mistake twice.” 

“Mistake? Like a bad strategy? And what's the Bloody Mist?” Ask Kiba.

“The Bloody Mist is a name for the shinobi village in the Land of Water. It's incredibly unsafe at the moment.” Iruka glances at Shikami, and he nods. The general details of their fake mission haven't been marked classified, only the specifics. “Shikami-san was stationed there until recently.” All three boys’ interest is piqued, pausing their eating to stare at him. 

Shika doesn't particularly want to be grilled for the gorey history of Kiri right now, and picks up where Iruka left off before they can start. If they look up the Bloody Mist after this, at least he's got them interested in history.

“As for the mistake part. Yes, Kiba-kun, sometimes that means a bad strategy. Sometimes it means knowing exactly how a jutsu can go wrong. Sometimes it means honouring the fallen you never got to meet.” Iruka raises one eyebrow as Shikami steps as close as he dares to the topic of Naruto's father, but keeps his mouth shut. “Sometimes it's about learning a lesson the village promised not to forget.”

“I don't know what that refers to,” Shino admits. “Why? Because we haven't been taught any such lessons.” Shikami knows this, but in retrospect it's still so unbelievably wrong that it's not hard to fake his disbelief. 

“They haven't gotten to Uzushio yet?” He asks Iruka. Iruka stares into his ramen bowl and shakes his head. When he speaks, he sounds equal parts frustrated and ashamed.

“It's not in the curriculum anymore. Council took it out before I started teaching.”

“ What?” He snarls, a little of the veteran commander creeping into his voice before he can stop it. The boys jump, as does Teuchi, but Iruka just nods. “Why not just desecrate her grave at this point?” He mutters softly enough that only Iruka can hear, forcing the anger down. Ostracise Kushina's child, hide her history, what a way to honour their dead.

No need to scare the kids, though, no matter how potent his rage at the council is. “Sorry, just. Kami, that's unbelievable.” He smiles at the pre-genin, and gets slightly shaky smiles back. “Sorry, boys,” he repeats, “lost my temper for a second. You should probably look at the library, I don't think I'm the best man to tell you that story.” for one thing, he was never fully taught it either, though he knows the story well enough by now.

“Kakashi, maybe. If you don't want to read it.” Iruka offers. “I imagine either Tsume-sama or Shibi-sama could tell you as well.”

“I'll ask Kakashi when he gets back,” Shikami says, keeping his voice quiet and calm until everyone has untensed. “might do him good to pass the knowledge on.” 

“Hatake Kakashi?” Asks Kiba, perking back up a little. “He's got one of the biggest ninken packs in the village.”

“He does,” Shika agrees, ignoring the shaking of his hands. They eat quietly for a moment, then Naruto finishes his third bowl and sits up straight. 

“Fine, geography and history are important or whatever. But how come the girls get to learn to tree walk?” It's always a little magical to watch Naruto change the mood of a room. Kiba and Akamaru join the complaints immediately, Shino cracking a smile and nodding along. Iruka takes the question while Shikami eats slowly and tries not to hate himself for scaring innocent kids.

“None of you have the chakra control to tree walk yet.” They could probably still brute force it, but Iruka's right that it makes it harder.

“But the girls–”

“Sakura has nearly perfect control naturally, Ino has been meditating to improve hers for years to keep up with Sakura, and the Hyuga start practising chakra control the moment they gain the ability to manipulate it.”

“Still,” whines Kiba, at which point Shikami chimes in.

“I'll teach you to tree walk.”

“What?”

“Really?”

Shino, not so easily tricked, just tilts his head, kikaichu buzzing curiously.

“Sure, can you all do the academy three?” He's sure Shino can, but both Kiba and Naruto blush and look away. “You need at least that level of chakra control to tree walk. Start meditating for half an hour before school, get to know your chakra and find its limits. We'll focus on the academy three and then we can move on to tree walking.”

“That doesn't sound very fun,” Kiba grumbles.

“Probably isn't,” Shikami agrees, “meditating is hard at your age, and harder when you have so much energy. But if you want to tree walk, that's the path. If you just want a flashy technique, I'm not going to help you.” The boys lean close together and the Nara takes a moment to relish how right it looks for little Naruto to have friends. After a moment's deliberation they reach their decision. 

“We would be grateful for your help, Shikami-san,” Shino announces. “Why? Because we don't want to fall behind the girls.” They're such smart, motivated kids. He knew they were, but the reminder is always appreciated.

“All right, then. Focus on the meditating and we'll meet up to practise the academy three next Friday.” 

Not like he has anything else to do, Inoichi's tethered them to the city for a month , and the mednin who did their physicals had given roughly the same timeline. It's standard peacetime procedure for shinobi returning from years long missions from the psych side, and the medic wants enough time for them to recover from ‘the acute effects of starvation’. It's all terribly logical, but that doesn't mean Shikami has to like it.

The boys head out the door, thanking Teuchi for the food, intent on stopping by the library on the way home. They're certainly looking for information on either the Bloody Mist or Uzushio, maybe both, or Kiba and Naruto would have argued. He's guessing the Mist though, gets the impression they're interested in Kakashi’s telling of the latter's history.

Iruka orders another bowl for each of them and two beer, doesn't try to catch Shikami's eyes when he says: 

“He razed a training ground, you know, when he heard they weren't going to teach it anymore.” 

“Kakashi?” Iruka nods, taking a swig of his beer. He's giving Shikami space to steer the conversation, even though they're supposed to be solving Iruka's crisis. “Did he really?”

“Oh yeah, training ground twenty-five. Still looks like the centre of a localised hurricane, lighting strikes and all. Gets used for terrain drills.”

“It's wrong. Taking it out.”

“I know, I agree. But there's not much I can do about it.” He hadn't been trying to blame Iruka.

“Course not, I didn't mean to snap.”

“Can't say I blame you, it's all right.”

“I scared the kids.”

“Startled them, more like. Come on, Shikami-san, nobody's perfect.”

“Guess not,” he murmurs. Still, he needs to be better than that. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Mizuki.” Ah, of course. Nobody can ever deny Umino Iruka has conviction. Now that it's been pointed out, he won't ignore the problem, even if it is personally painful.

“What about him?”

“He's not fit to work with those kids, but nothing's provable. I was wondering if you had any ideas.” Besides waiting almost a year for him to show his hand when he almost kills Iruka, obviously. Shikami hums, sipping his beer.

“It may work itself out, now.” Neither of them – nor their Naruto and Kakashi, really – had even considered how little a push the clan kids would need to accept Naruto. An off handed comment or two to Ino from Inoka, a well timed question about the boy to pique Shikamaru's interest, and suddenly everyone was having a revelation or a change of heart. They'd all agreed it was worth a try, but nobody had expected it to work .

“How so?”

“Well, as you've said, the guy is pretty intense. He's not going to suddenly stop acting on deep rooted prejudices because a bunch of pre-genin are paying attention now.”

“Sure, but the small council doesn't care how he treats Naruto, or really even Sakura and the other civilian-born students. Neither does the headmaster.”

“No, but if all of those clan kids go home and start telling their parents how unfair their instructor is being. Or, Kami help him, if he starts snapping at them in retaliation for standing up for Naruto. Trust me, the small council will start caring very quickly.”

“Maybe so, but I don't like just leaving it be like that.”

“Neither do I. You should still keep an eye out for anything you can bring a proper complaint about. But keep in mind those kids already have a lot of political pull. More than you or I do.”

“You're a Nara.”

“But Shikamaru's the Nara heir. Most of them are clan heirs, and even Kiba is part of a main clan line.”

“That's true,” Iruka admits. “They're the most politically powerful academy year in generations. The odds of that many clan heirs within a single calendar year –”

“Astronomical,” Shikami says, starting in on his ramen now that his hands have stilled. “And they've decided they're not leaving anyone behind. They're watching each other's backs, they're standing up for students they're not as close to and forging closer bonds within the group.”

“What if the council doesn't like that?” Iruka barely more than whispers. Teuchi doesn't pretend he's not using their conversation as free entertainment in the otherwise empty stall, but Shikami trusts him to look out for Naruto's interests. 

“If they don't like final year academy students practising collaboration in a village famous for teamwork, they'll have at least a half dozen angry clan heads on their hands.”

“even if that collaboration includes Naruto?” Shikami is quiet for a long moment, picking his words and sorting out how best to talk around the elephant in the room.

“What I've noticed, since I've been back, is that some people are…expected to not look out for Naruto. Even if they might like him fine personally.” Iruka, always sharper than people expect out of a lifetime chunin, nods slowly.

“Right, and I suppose some of the clan heads do have a lot of expectations on them.”

“Being that they're so busy, sitting on the village council and all.”

“Of course. Some of the kids in my class, their parents even work directly with the hokage. That's an honour.”

“A great honour.” Shikami agrees.

“But also a lot of responsibility, keeping the village running.”

“It might look improper, really, for them to focus too much on a random civilian child when they have the whole village to think of”

“It's understandable, especially with so many of them having their own young kids to worry about.” Iruka sips his beer, Shikami wonders how hard it would be to convince him to transfer into intelligence. Or at least take the tokujo exam.

“Completely understandable.”

“But if that mistreatment was to extend to more of the class…”

“Well at some point it becomes irresponsible not to intervene.”

“Nobody wants our future shinobi under-prepared because of a prejudiced teacher.”

“It would spell disaster in the field.” 

“It would.” Iruka agrees, stacking their empty bowls and lining up the bottles as they finish the meal. “Well, I have parent-teacher conferences in a couple weeks, I'm sure any concerns the parents have will come up, then.” Good, if Iruka trusts the parents enough to check in with them about their kids’ concerns, this will go much more smoothly. 

Now if Shikami can just figure out how to teach Naruto the basic clone justu maybe they'll get through graduation without incident.

Chapter Text

“I'm pretty sure there's a war coming,” Shikamaru tells Choji and Ino on Saturday during their weekly joint training session. 

‘Training session’ has loosely translated to ‘keep the kids from killing each other’ for two or three years now, but since he allied with Ino against Mizuki-sensei it's become prime strategizing time. Choji's thrilled with the arrangement, as he usually is when they get along, and deeply invested in stopping the injustice now that they're aware of it. Their parents are equally thrilled, if bemused, by the surge in teamwork.

“A war? When?” Asks Choji, flopped out in the sun on the best hill in the Nara woods. An unexpected advantage of working with Ino is their parents are so nervous to interrupt the peace that they're not being bullied into actual training. Shikamaru doesn't expect it to last, but it's a nice boon.

“Dunno, soonish I think.” 

“Why?” Asks Ino, looking up from her daisy chain.

“Why war?”

“Why do you think ‘soonish’?” Ino clarifies. Neither one dismisses the concern. For all they fight, the trio do trust each other.

“Hasn't been one in a while.” Shinobi villages are war machines – they need conflict to function.

“People are tense, lately,” Choji says. “Ninja especially, there's no fighting here but there might already be some somewhere.”

“wherever Inoka-nee and Shikami-san were posted saw conflict,” Ino puts in. Shikamaru nods, that squares with the tremors in Shikami's hands, and the dark look in his eyes sometimes. 

“Did it?”

“Must've,” Choji puts in, which is surprising since he's the only one who doesn't live with one of them. “Dad mentioned them, said to be kind, since they've been through so much in the last decade or so.”

“Makes sense,” Shikamaru agrees. “So there's conflict somewhere, and they've put out a new bingo book again.”

“Have they?”

“Think so, dad reads it all the way through when a new one comes out. He's done it twice already this year.”

“So we're not at war, necessarily,” Ino says slowly, hands flying through the repetitive motion like they always do when she's focusing. “But there's unrest somewhere, somewhere important enough for us to have spies.” Shikamaru nods, having reached the same conclusion. A long, mostly classified mission, with the shinobi involved both ‘presumed dead’ and no close relations to miss them, all signs point to espionage. 

Choji's eyes widen a little, but he connects the dots quickly enough for someone who's barely met the pair. “A hidden village?” He asks without missing another beat.

“Probably,” Shikamaru agrees, watching a cloud shaped vaguely like a shuriken split into three. Exploding shuriken? Interesting idea, definitely been done before.

“Sand?” Ino guesses, then immediately shakes her head. “No, never mind. They're not tan enough.”

“Doesn't matter right now, I'll ask Shikami. He likes to talk when he plays shogi, but I think he just does it to piss me off.”

“Not like he needs to throw you off your game to win.” Ino's right, unfortunately, but he sticks his tongue out on principle and kicks at her daisy chain. “Stop that, sore loser.”

“Anyway,” Choji interjects before a spat can start. “You can ask Shikami-san, see if he can tell us where they were. But we're only pre-genin right now. How does war affect us if it hits before we graduate?” 

“They'll push up the graduation test, but genin are cannon fodder.”

“Most genin are cannon fodder,” Ino clarifies. “We won't be, too politically valuable.”

“A lot of the class won't hack it as genin long enough to see combat, not in the beginning of a war when things are less desperate.” Shika says matter-of-factly.  It's a cruel fact, but a fact nonetheless. Most academy graduates don't last a week as genin. The village won't abide by unprepared soldiers, even in wartime. Incompetence kills, and not always just the perpetrator.

“And most of the ones who will are in the same situation as we are.” 

“Equal footing then, except–”

“Except for Naruto and Sakura,” Choji concludes. “That's…not great.”

“What made you think of this?” Ino asks into the unhappy silence.

“My parents, all of our parents, really. They're worried lately, pushier about training and all…hover-y.” His friends both grimace, nodding their agreement. Even now, they're watching from the bottom of the hill, talking too quietly to eavesdrop. In years past, there might have been one of them there trying to talk the trio into training, not all six.

“Mine seem a little too thrilled with Inoka-nee's extra lessons too. Like they're worried we're unprepared for something.” 

“Wish they'd just tell us what's going on,” complains Choji. “We're gonna be genin soon.” They watch the sky for a while, all three of them, deep enough in thought to still Ino's weaving and Choji's snacking.

“You two are a real pain, you know that?” Ino says eventually. There's no heat to it, so neither rise to the bait. “But we're a team, you're not allowed to die.”

“Neither are you,” Choji says. Shikamaru stays silent, puts his hands together in his thinking pose, and considers their options. There's a conversation involving too many emotions going on around him, but both participants know him well enough to leave him out of it.

After a couple minutes he comes to a deeply irritating conclusion, sitting up. “All right, fine.” He mutters, huffing. 

“What's the plan?” Ino asks, interested and attentive and not even pretending to be bossy. She's not so bad when it's just the three of them – now that she's over Sasuke, anyway.

“I hate to say it, but we'd better start training. Teamwork is vital to a three man squad and we can't help anyone if we die early.” 

“Oh good, I'm getting antsy.” Ino pops to her feet, Choji and Shikamaru joining her more slowly.

“All right,” Choji says, stretching his arms high above his head until his back cracks. “Where do we start?”

•••

It's not that Shikamaru is bad at shogi, he's really very good. It's just that Shikami knows his exact thought process and has twice as much experience. That's why he always wins, and why once Shikamaru's brain is fully developed they'll probably be deadlocked forever. 

That's also why when Shikamaru plays the worst game of his life, Shikami knows it's distraction, not disinterest. Kid's got a question, and the elder Nara is happy to wait him out. No chatter to irritate him today, just quiet and the sound of tiles on the board.

“Cloud?” Shikamaru asks as Shikami considers his next move. Best to draw this game out, they both do better when they can pretend they're not invested in a conversation.

“Mist.”

“Doing what?” He takes Shikamaru's knight. He won about six moves ago, but he's not sure if the kid has realised yet. Probably. Probably this is a farce they're both aware of.

“Don't ask stupid questions.” It's a testament to how invested Shikamaru is that he just nods and grimaces.

“How long is long term?”

“Longer than you've been alive.” They play quietly for a while, prolonging the end of the game as much as they can.

“Is it bad?”

“Hm?”

“Mist, is it bad. Right now, I mean?” Shikamaru drops a pawn. They're three steps from checkmate. Shikami manages to turn it into five.

“It is.” Then, because they'll talk circles around the point for hours otherwise, the time traveller pushes the issue. “What is this actually about?” Shikamaru is quiet so long Shikami ends the game. They sit, staring at the completed board, as Shikamaru collects his thoughts.

“Is there a war coming?” He finally asks. Shikami heaves a sigh and leans back on his hands.

“Your dad is an important strategist, why not ask him?”

“He won't answer.”

“And I will?”

“You usually do. If you won't tell me you'll at least be honest about why.”

“You think so?”

“Ino eats again, you know? All our parents tried their parent stuff to convince her not to diet, or nag her about it. Choji and I said she was being stupid and reckless, but all the backup we got was with kid gloves. Inoka-san sat her down in the middle of nowhere and told her she was going to die and take all of us with her. Now Ino mostly eats. If we're about to be in constant danger I think we have the right to know, and I think you agree. I don't know why the two of you are being so honest, but you are. You don't use the kid gloves." 

It's not an impassioned speech, delivered in dry and factual monotone, but curled fists and a slightly furrowed brow give Shikamaru away. What would he have given at that age, to be taken seriously? 

Shikami slowly packs up the shogi board, gesturing for Shikamaru to do the same. Then he stands and heads out onto the back porch, little self close behind.

Once outside, they have a new way to avoid looking at each other, staring into the dusky sky as stars start to appear.

“There's always war coming in a hidden village, unless there’s war already happening.”

“How fast is it coming right now?”

“Fast,” Shikami admits. “It's never guaranteed, but the way things are moving right now? Within a year or two.” Hopefully, of course, he and Inoka can head off Orochimaru and Sand, but there's no guarantee and he'd rather the kids be prepared. 

“I'll be a genin.”

“Or a chunin.”

“We won't all make chunin that fast.”

“I thought we were talking about you.”

“Don't be purposefully obtuse.” Shikami nods, sobering. He's so used to speaking in quips, as Kakashi always favoured and Inoka still does, or deflecting with humour like Naruto. 

“You'll be genin and chunin, if war breaks out soon.”

“Genin are cannon fodder.” an incredible reduction of military structure, tactics, and ethics, but it's not the moment to explain that. “Not all of us, but… the civilian-born kids, Naruto and Sakura will be –”

“Not if I have a damn thing to say about it, but I see your point.” Shikami takes a deep breath to centre himself.

“You fought, right? In the last war?”

“I did.”

“You would have had to be younger than I am.”

“I'm aware.”

“What would you do? If you were me, if you knew war was coming.”

“I'd try and understand the stakes, for one thing.”

“I'm trying.” Shikami glances at his younger self, sees the way he mirrors his posture, the gritting of teeth and determined eyes. He was expecting to do a lot more prodding to convince Shikamaru to take this seriously, but it's probably his own regret colouring it. 

He was never cold or uncaring, just sheltered and bored. Now he's got a friend group, and now he's realised they're going to be in danger very soon.

“You're right, you are.”

“What else? You're helping Naruto and Kiba and Shino train, right?”

“Sure am.”

“And Inoka’s helping the girls. So what would you do, how would you prepare?” Shikami is silent for a long while, watching the sky fill with stars.

“No kid gloves, right?” He murmurs.

“Right.”

“I was you, you know that? Smart, unmotivated little asshole. Typical lazy Nara.”

“Yeah, right. You go for a run before breakfast.”

“I do.”

“So what? You had a change of heart?”

“People died, Shikamaru. People died and some of them wouldn't have, if I was faster or stronger. My sensei, my best friend, dead because I was a lazy brat who didn't work when I had the chance.” He huffs a sigh. “I don't…you're not a brat. That's not what I meant. You're a good kid, and you're trying to be better. But you're not prepared for war. Smarten up, pay attention in class –”

“I already know all the lessons.”

“Pay attention in class. Pay attention to where the others are struggling, gather information against Mizuki, train your practical skills until they're such deep muscle memory you can do them in your sleep.”

“Gather information against Mizuki-sensei?” Shikamaru raises an eyebrow. “Who snitched?” Shikami chuckles.

“Not all of the adults in your life are incompetent. Iruka certainly isn't. You keep doing your thing, we'll keep doing ours, and eventually we'll be rid of the asshole.” The conversation lapses, they watch the stars.

“I don't want them to die,” Shikamaru says into the quiet night, sounding exactly his age.

Shikami turns, putting his hands on the child's shoulders and meeting his eyes. “I am going to do everything in my power to keep every one of you safe. So is Inoka. So are a lot of people you don't even know yet. But the world is dangerous, and you're not prepared for it.”

“Can I be?”

“Course you can. But, nobody is going to help you excel in that school. Iruka is stretched too thin as it is. You're a genius, but you're not a prodigy. You need to work at it and you haven't been.” Shikamaru nods, not trying to escape his hold. “I can help, if you want.” He's pitting pride and a fierce independent streak against fear, here. 

Accept my help, the offer says, and have the agency to protect those you love when the time comes.

“Inoichi-jii says you have better shadow control than my dad.”

“I do.”

“Will you teach me?”

“You know you have to work on the boring stuff, too.” Shikamaru nods. “You let me help with your katas, and target practice, and chakra manipulation, and I'll help with your shadow jutsu.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.” He lets Shikamaru go, ruffling his ponytail. “Now, what dirt have you dug up on Mizuki so far?”

•••

For all she's nagged Shika, Inoka is going stir-crazy too. 

A month's leave. A month? Over a month, if she includes the week they spent waiting to be assessed. A month off has been inconceivable for their entire career. They didn't get that long after the chunin exams, or even after Asuma-sensei died. 

At least by the end of the second week they've been cleared to work within the village, or she might really have lost her mind. Inner village work isn't exactly glamorous, but then again Inoka's not picky. She's already been given a T&I trenchcoat, and is scheduled to start officially alongside a batch of new interns on Monday. No reason to give the orientation speech twice, Inoichi had reasoned, although she thinks it's more to do with avoiding the appearance of favouritism. 

That's fine, she spends the weekend training with Shikami, brushing up on her poisons knowledge, and working a couple shifts at the gate.

On Monday she heads down to the first basement of the Intelligence building in her long grey coat, hair pulled into a tight braided ponytail, and waits in the T&I lobby with a little more than a dozen visibly nervous interns. 

T&I takes more interns than most departments, simply because they drop like flies. Some of these ones probably won't make it through the day, at least half will be gone before the end of the week, and they'll be down to a manageable two or three by month end. Intelligence just starts with a handful and keeps them, but it all balances in the end. A division centred around torture isn't for everyone.

A bored brunet man with a multitude of piercings Inoka recognizes as career chunin Hidaka Ken glances up when she approaches, already rifling through a stack of badges.

“Name?”

“Yamanaka Inoka,” she says softly, nodding subtly to a badge sitting on its own. No need to call attention to the fact that she's not an intern. Better to wait and see which ones notice on their own. There's a time-honoured tradition of messing with the T&I interns, and making them squirm a little over the stranger in their midst is tame compared to whatever Anko will throw at them.

Ken quirks a smile, handing her the badge after confirming her chakra signature. “Welcome to the team.” He matches her volume, tone still bored but eyes twinkling a little. “I'm Hidaka Ken, Inoichi-san should be here shortly.”

“Thank you.” She backs away from the desk, leaning against the wall, and mentally ranks the interns chances of sticking it out. It's callous, perhaps, but she's got to pass the time somehow. 

About half the interns are in their late teens and early twenties, one or two she places in their mid-twenties. These will be late testers out of the genin corps and those who waited a couple years after making chunin before deciding to specialise. She notices Shimon is part of this group, meaning they'll get at least one solid member out of this batch of interns.

The other half are young, some barely in their teens, fresh shinobi who rushed to make chunin as fast as possible and are taking the same gung-ho approach to specialising. That sort of initiative is probably prized in interns for logistics, mission desk, and academy teaching. They don't usually last long here, too young and idealistic to stomach the grittier parts of shinobi life just yet. Still, there are always exceptions. Inoka herself had been barely fourteen.

No matter what sort of kind, temperate face Inoichi puts on, you have to have a sadistic streak to work in T&I as long as he has. Let alone to run it. He makes them wait two and a half hours with no word before he shows up.

The interns – most of whom seem to have arrived at least twenty minutes early, judging by their conversations – are vibrating in place. One and all. Inoka is flipping through a pamphlet on pressure points. Ken's pretending to sleep, leaning back in his chair.

When the interns are on the verge of breaking, the door finally opens and the head of T&I ambles out.

“Hello, everyone,” Inoichi says brightly. Inoka waves, tucking the pamphlet into her pocket and rising slowly. The interns snap to attention. Ken's only response is an exaggerated snore. “I'm glad everyone seems to have found their way here. Welcome to T&I, we're always happy to see new faces down here.”

“Usually the new faces aren't so happy to see us, though.” Calls Mozuku from down the hall. Ken snorts, though he doesn't give up his act otherwise. A couple interns laugh nervously, the others shifting their feet a little.

“Don't mind him, we have a tour to get to!” Inoichi's relentless enthusiasm is grating in the dim, shabby, subterranean waiting room and he knows it. “Now, we are running a bit behind schedule, so we'll just do the tour and meet some of the crew before lunch. After lunch there will be skill evaluations. Any questions?” The group stays quiet. Not a great start “right, well. We'll have to work on that. You should always have questions.” still nobody asks. Inoichi will just wait them out, and Inoka, who would really rather get through the tour of a department she could navigate blindfolded and onto actual work, takes pity.

“Why're we ‘running behind schedule’, Inoichi-san?” She drawls, earning a raised eyebrow from her father. “Anything to do with you being almost three hours late?” the interns break into furious whispers like the teenagers they are. One boy catches her eye, shaking his head as he leans in to whisper.

“Why are you antagonising him? He's our boss.”

“I had questions.” the boy backs away slowly, still shaking his head.

“Snarky, but she does get the point.” Inoichi says above the murmuring, looking distinctly unimpressed that she ruined his game of Panic the Fresh Meat. “Curiosity is the life blood of interrogation. You need to know everything you can, because you never know what could be important.” He turns on his heel and heads back through the door into the maze of hallways making up the dungeons.

•••

By the end of the tour, the interns are either huddled at a couple of tables near the door to the breakroom, or heaving their guts out in the toilets down the hall. Inoka picks a table against the far wall, sits in the corner seat, and settles down for lunch.

The interns have been looking progressively more wary of her all morning, still not entirely sure why she’s so unphased by the horrors of the morning. 

Given they’ve signed up to work in a division with torture in the title, and they’ve yet to see anything worse than a bloody floor being sterilised and a room full of unused torture devices, she’s not sure what they were expecting. Then again, Inoka may have been a child of peace but nearly all of her military career has been spent in wartime. Her standards are probably different.

Regardless, the room isn’t very big, just four small square tables and a beaten up couch, with a kitchenette along one wall. This means that when the two tables of pale interns start to fill up, and a third fills with green-looking chunin who certainly won’t be eating, a couple of the bravest make their way over to perch on the couch near her and watch her eat. 

Inoka doesn’t love people watching her eat – a holdover from the years of dieting – but she mostly just ignores them. For one thing, she did spend the whole morning making herself a puzzle for them to solve. For another, if she even wants to get out of this village she can’t afford to miss a meal. Still, she’s only got so much patience, and by the time she’s half done scarfing down her meal it’s run out.

“Something you wanted?” she deadpans, looking directly at the jittery teens. Both have long hair, one a deep brown and the other dirty blonde, and she doubts either has had their chunin vests two full months yet. Probably never been out of the village without a jonin sensei at their backs. 

“Oh, um…it’s nothing really, Inoka-san.” says the blonde

“Only, how’re you keeping food down after all…that?” if they polish that double team thing a little it might make a half-decent interrogation tactic. Certainly unsettling enough, especially considering the brunette’s got bows in her hair. 

“All what?” she asks, moving on to her second sandwich. 

“All the…everything on the tour?” Inoka could drive home exactly how much of that ‘everything’ is involved in this department, but she lets it lie. It’s only the first day, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing to react badly to that much violence within village walls. Even shinobi can’t be comfortable with the sacrifices a military dictatorship requires one hundred percent of the time. Even Inoka doesn’t, for all reforming this sort of thing will have to wait until she’s stopped the apocalypse. For the moment they’ll either have to learn to live with it or pick a different niche. 

She settles for raising her eyebrows, taking another pointed bite of her sandwich, and answering their question with a question.

“You know the two tenets of a battlefield soldier?” it’s an old philosophy, resurfacing as wisdom to every new generation facing war for the first time. They shake their heads, and none of the interns pretending not to evesdrop offer an answer. That’s fine, because Genma is finished microwaving his ramen and heads over, waving an exaggerated hand.

“I know, I know. Pick me.”

“You’re such a dork,” she snorts as he plops down across from her. Touching, really, that the tokujo trusts her to watch his back as he turns it to a room of strangers. “Go on, then.”

He holds up two fingers, stirring the ramen at the same time with his other hand. “Eat everything you get, sleep anytime you can.” he slurps obnoxiously, then addresses the room at large. “Lose your appetites, interns?” he gets a couple of nods, none of the interns meeting his eyes. “Happens every year. Nobody eats after the tour. You’ll get over it if you stick around.” Inoka starts on her dessert. “Oh man, that looks good. Is that real strawberry?”

“Mhm, it’s dense as a brick, though.” 

“Bleh, why?”

“Some kind of nutrient powder, I think.”

“Mednin special?”

“You know it,” she frowns at the cake. It’s theoretically tasty, but somehow both unbelievably dry and unbelievable dense. She’s nearly certain she’s prescribed this on recovery plans, but she vows never to do it again. “You want it?”

“Not on your life, Yamanaka. I made that mistake once. I’ll pick out the strawberries and eat those, though.”

“Over my dead body.” The interns are shamelessly staring at this point, eyes darting between the two as the banter continues. She would question it, but the cake has turned to paste in her mouth. She takes another bite, fueled by the list of things she needs to get done outside the village.

“What?” Genma asks the eyes.

“I just…you just said nobody eats after the tour.”

“They don’t.”

“Inoka-san is,” the boy from earlier says from across the room, “not that it’s a problem, just…I think everyone’s a little confused.”

“At least they’re learning to ask questions,” Inoka mumbles around the cake, quietly enough for only Genma to hear. He nods.

“Right, I suppose that’s fair. I meant interns don’t eat after the –” Genma’s cut off from what surely would have been the end of her time as a fake intern by the slamming of a door in the hall, a woman’s shout, and the sound of running feet. The interns, with no context of what is acceptable chaos here, glance up but stay where they are, some turning back to the pair in the corner.

Genma and Inoka know better, know Anko’s voice, and are already halfway to the door.

Chapter Text

There’s a trail of blood in the hallway, and more leaking from the open door of the cell a couple doors down. Inoka takes the time to bodily shove Genma towards the man sprinting for freedom, then tears off in the opposite direction. Her mednin training will always supercede T&I’s, at the end of the day. An injured ally always takes priority and she trusts Genma to handle their escapee.

She reaches the door to the cell just in time for Anko to come careening out of it with a knife in her stomach.

“Prisoner escaping!” She yells at the top of her lungs. Inoka gets an armful of struggling tokubetsu before Anko can take off. “Prisoner escaping, Inoka-chan.” She's putting on a good show, but Inoka can feel how hard she's breathing.

“Genma’s on it. Sit down before you collapse.”

“He might need backup, I should–”

“You should sit down.”

“Escapee has priority–” Inoka, who trained primarily under Tsunade, has exhausted her proper bedside manor.

“Sit,” she growls, “before I make you sit.”

“Inoka-chan–”

“ Now. ” Anko sits, glaring the whole while. “Good, now hold still while I inspect this knife.” She immediately starts to shift. “Stay. Still.” Inoka starts a diagnostic jutsu.

“Didn't know you knew medical ninjutsu.” Anko’s slurring a little, blood loss hitting in proper now that the urgency of the moment is fading.

“Mednin generally do.” she murmurs.

“you're a mednin?”

“Sure am, are you experiencing any blurry vision? Sound distortion?”

“Yeah, yeah. You're blurry and quiet. Classic pain stuff. How'd a mednin end up in espionage?”

“I'm not in espionage. I'm here. The good news is I'm not detecting any poison. The bad news is this knife is serrated." The worst news is the knife managed to hit her high enough up to knick a lung. 

She doesn’t tell Anko her lung is filling with blood, or that the serration shredded part of her stomach lining, just works a little faster. 

Did this happen last time? She wonders against her better judgement. Had Genma helped her, limited in his knowledge? Had anyone helped her, if they both went after the escapee? She shoves it to the back of her mind to stew on later.

“Karma, I guess. You threaten someone with a serrated knife, you'd better be prepared to have it turned back on you.” Anko laughs a shallow laugh, barely moving her torso. “Not espionage anymore , ours now.” Inoka glares at the movement but doesn’t respond. She's busy rooting around in her vest for rubbing alcohol. “You have terrible bedside manor, you know.”

“Not exactly a sought after skill in field medics, Anko-san. Please stop talking as much as possible. I'm going to have to cut this wound bigger to avoid the serration. I need to sterilise the scalpel myself first, though. Since nobody in the room full of interns watching has a helpful bone in their bodies.” She sterilises the scalpel in the alcohol, moving quickly but carefully.

“Field medic, that I believe. Tough as nails.” Inoka offers her a tight smile.

“thanks, Anko-san. Please stop talking. Now, this is going to hurt like a bitch and I need you to hold still, but I'm assuming you don't want strangers touching you.”

“No.”

“I can help,” Ibiki rumbles from behind her. Inoka hadn't even noticed him arrive, so used to tuning out friendly chakra. She glances at Anko for permission and gets it.

“Perfect, Anko-san I'm going to lay you down. Okay?” Another nod, shallower than the last. This isn't the least sterile place where Ino's ever done surgery, but it's not good. Still, needs must.

Inoka makes the incisions, and glances at Ibiki in warning before pulling the knife out without telling Anko first. The injured woman jerks but doesn't tense her stomach, so mission accomplished there. Tossing the knife away, Inoka starts in on the healing jutsu with both hands. 

She relies on Ibiki – no longer holding Anko's shoulders but still hovering close – to alert her to any danger and loses herself in the rhythm of healing.

Inoka's not sure how long passes before she drops the jutsu, sterilising the much shallower wound left behind and wrapping it in a layer of gauze and bandages. Then she sits back in the bloody hallway to catch her breath. It's not a perfect healing – the gash is still bleeding a little, even – but the internal damage is repaired and she's not at any significant risk.

“No strenuous activity for at least two weeks. Keep the bandages fresh. You know the drill.” Anko gives her a thumbs up, sitting up enough to lean half against the wall and half against Ibiki.

“Sure, you got it. Thanks for not letting me bleed out.”

“Any time.” Ino smiles softly at her patient, then spins on the rest of the hallway. “As for the rest of you.” She hisses at the interns, getting to her feet with cold fury painting her face. “I don't know how you managed to make chunin with no idea how to act in a crisis, but it's not standing around gawking. I know a couple of you went as reinforcements, but the rest were worse than useless.” she staggers a little, a little more chakra exhausted than she'd anticipated. Genma catches her shoulder.

“Anko's fine, Inoka.”

“And if she wasn't? If we weren't in the breakroom?”

“We were.”

“And if we weren't ?”

“Then whatever happened would be on their heads.” He leans closer, murmuring softly enough that the interns have no chance of hearing “I'm not defending them, but right now I'm a little more worried about you .” 

Inoka's prepared to snap back, but forcibly bites it down. He's being genuine. And he's right. She's running on fumes and panic and the uncertainty of how this went last time. Her chest is unbearably tight with the consideration that maybe this didn't happen last time. Maybe the changes they're making are putting the people they care about in more danger. 

She wants to keep chewing out the interns, or to spiral completely into her doubt. Instead she leans a little into Genma's hand and nods.

“Did you catch him?”

“Yeah, Inoichi's got him.”

“Right. Good.”

“Come on, let's get some air. Find some non-mednin-approved food.” Inoka lets him bully her out of the hall long enough to grab her spare uniform and change. 

By the time she's within hearing distance of the bloody hallway again, she can hear Inoichi and Ibiki laying into the interns at full volume. The confirmation that someone is taking this seriously is enough for Inoka to let Genma steer her out of the building.

•••

“We should get Anko some dango.”

“sorry you got stabbed, we brought dessert?”

“Exactly.”

“I like it. First, real food, though.” Inoka nods absently, still visibly shaking. Genma wonders how much of it is the adrenaline crash, and how much is whatever's running through her head. “Better idea, you sit down, I get real food from one of the street vendors and bring it to you.”

“I'm fine.”

“Hey, you'd know better than I do. I'm just worried you don't know what good food is anymore with your hospital nutrition plan.”

“And you're an expert?”

“Course not, but the bar isn't high.”

“I can walk around, Genma-san.” Stubborn, doctors really do make the worst patients. To be fair, she and Shikami seem to share a brain, so she's probably not had a lot of pushback in the last decade or so. 

“Just let me get the food.” Inoka rolls her eyes but sits on a nearby bench, watching him wander the street. 

Genma takes his time without straying out of sight. It seems like she could use a moment to herself. When he returns with steamed buns and Anko's dango, Inoka's eyes have a little more light and the shaking is nearly gone. 

“Look, hearty food. No supplement powders required.”

“They said it couldn't be done.” She jokes as he settles onto the bench beside her. “Thanks.”

“Always happy to help a beautiful woman,” not his best line, but it earns a laugh so Genma takes it as a win. “You think if we just don't go back Inoichi will give us the half day off?” 

He would give it to Inoka, no question, after the morning she's had. Kami knows skills testing her is only a formality. All the same, the poisons expert isn't exactly surprised when she shakes her head.

“Better not miss the rest of my first day. Interns probably hate me enough as it is.”

“Nothing they didn't earn, for the most part. The way they froze, I don't know how many we'll have left by tomorrow.”

“A couple helped you, at least.” Inoka points out.

“Sure, the competent ones helped secure the prisoner. Far as I'm concerned that's the only ones who should make the cut. Even those ones, though, their reaction speed was slower than I'd like.”

“Something to work with them on. Gotta be up to chunin level.”

“What would you know about chunin level?”

“Which one of us is a chunin?”

“Neither one of us is a chunin in any way that matters. I've seen the Yondaime react slower than you did today – and they called him the yellow flash.” She blushes just a trace, glancing away.

“I knew you'd handle him.”

“And I knew you'd take care of Anko.” He finishes the last of his pork bun. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Guess we do.” When she smiles this time, it looks real. Genma thinks he's a little too giddy at having cheered her up, but refuses to put much thought into it.

The interns are just as pale and shaky when the pair return from their impromptu lunch rush, but now they're also dead silent.

The skills test has already started by the time they walk in, though nobody seems to mind the tardiness. Inoka heads down to join the group waiting, exchanging a couple words with Inoichi as she arrives, and Genma stays in the balcony above to watch. Generally, most of the core of T&I finds time to gawk at the interns, but today a few are notably absent.

Ken's stayed at the desk. He says it's because this batch of interns is nothing special. More likely he's jumpy about having no last line of defense after a near escape like that.

Anko's there but Ibiki is missing, and Genma wonders exactly how bad a day their escapee must be having by now.

Mozuku and a couple others are also missing, probably making up for time in the chaos.

He leans on the railing beside Anko, passing her the dango.

“For me? You're too much, Genma-san.”

“I'm just the messenger, it was Inoka's idea.” Down below, the group finishes their round. It's not the best he's ever seen from new chunin, but they've mostly hit the targets. 

They always do these tests, just to have strengths and weaknesses on file. Not every one of them is great at range, or close up, or with a dozen other skills they test, but it's good to know where they start. The thing that people tend to forget in their dislike of T&I is that they're outcasts, but they're strong enough to thrive on the fringe.

Anyone they add to the department has to meet that same standard. They have a reputation for being unsettlingly competent to uphold.

So, while it may be a formality for Inoka and the whole department knows it, for the actual interns it's important they do well here. Maybe Inoichi will cut them a little slack given the shock of the morning, but Genma rather doubts it. 

The final group steps up, Inoka among them.

“Did you know she was a mednin?” Anko asks around her dango. Someone has dragged a chair onto the walkway for her so she can rest while she watches.

“Mhm, one of the girls mentioned it. She saw battle as a field medic.”

“She ran to me.” Five consecutive kunai thunk into her target, as closely clustered around the bullseye as possible. “Like it was instinct or something.” 

Genma doesn't know a terrible lot about Anko's life, beyond the things everyone knows and the things she overshares just enough to hide behind. But he knows enough to doubt anyone has ever run to Anko first, and certainly not since she made genin. He doesn't press the moment, just nods and steals one of the sticks of dango for himself. 

Anko squawks, grabbing it back with only one stolen. Inoka's collected her kunai and laughing with Inoichi about something, gesturing with a senbon in one hand. Her colour is finally back to normal.

“You're worried about her.” Anko says, and means ‘so am I.’

“Inoka can handle herself, I'm not worried about that.” 

“Big adjustment, though. Being home after so long.” Inoichi asks if anyone is skilled with senbon, and a handful of the interns step forward. Inoka's in the first group this time, and she's nearly flawless. Genma nods to one chunin with long, dark hair shadowing his eyes.

“Him I like, handled himself well earlier. Actually helpful in a crisis.”

“Think I'll have to learn his name?”

“Maybe, no sense of humour, though.”

“We'll wear him down.” They watch the rest of the senbon section in silence, and it's not until Inoichi has gathered the group back together to give the next batch of instructions that Genma circles back.

“She reminds me of right after the war, that's all. That look people had in their eyes, coming home to a village they never thought they'd see again. So much has changed, I don't know how I'd have handled coming back after it all.”

“You care about her.” Anko's loud and brash, and it's easy to forget sometimes that she's just as perceptive as anyone else in Intelligence.

“I might.” He murmurs. The kunoichi hands him back the sweet he stole. 

“Well, I say go for it. You both deserve something good. But remember she did just get home.”

“I'm not pushing anything.”

“Don't wait too long, I'll steal her out from under your nose.”

“And break Ibiki's heart? I doubt it.”

“My point stands.”

“I'm not rushing anything when I don't even know if there's anything there to rush.”

“You're pretty dense for a smart guy, Shiranui.”

“We'll see.”

•••

Given the combined luck of surviving time travel and then not being immediately accused of being spies when they arrived, Shikami really has no room to complain about his luck lately.

He complains anyway, a string of curse words spanning every dialect in the elemental nations running through his head when he arrives at the missions desk for his shift to see Okei packing up and the kunoichi who'd accused he and Inoka of forgery settling into his place.

Shika pinches the bridge of his nose. It's not that there's anything particularly wrong with her, she's just a combination of inexperienced and careless he finds singularly irritating. And their only interaction up until now had been accusing him of treason, so this surely won't be awkward.

At the very least, Iruka has also just arrived, and smiles at them both as he sits at the far end. That's one for two he can trust to be competent.

He takes over for Hayase – already arguing with Okei as they head out the door –  in the centre seat, greets Iruka and nods politely to the kunoichi on his other side.

She's carefully not meeting his eyes, straightening her paperwork. Iruka clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Shikami. He's a time travelling military strategist, he can certainly handle a little awkward small talk.

“Kimmi, right?” She nods. Shikami shrugs, turning to take a grass-stained but otherwise properly completed c-rank report from a proud-looking jonin sensei and her genin. “Thank you for your service,” he says, stamping the report.

He's done this job plenty, albeit not as much as he's done gate duty or perimeter patrols, and Izumo and Kotetsu ran him through a quick refresher during his shift the day before.

Iruka glances over the report Shikami processed, nodding his approval. The double checking is unnecessary, but as Umino Iruka is the undisputed overlord of the missions desk Shikami just appreciates the high standards.

He thinks of the teacher's frequent tea with the hokage, and wonders whether Hiruzen knows how fast this village would fall to chaos without Iruka.

“Something wrong, Kimmi-chan?” Iruka asks during a lull, glancing over to where she's filing a D-rank. 

“Oh, um, no. No problem Iruka-san.” not sensei? Sometimes Shikami forgets that he doesn't teach every single kid to come out of the academy.

“Sure.” Iruka certainly doesn't sound sure. He looks at Shikami again, a little more pointed.

“I'm not mad, you know,” he tries. It doesn't seem to help, judging by her flinch.

“I called you a fraud.”

“You had reason to be suspicious.” She had reason to be suspicious earlier than she was, but it's been two weeks and Shikami's mostly let the slip go. She looks miserable about the whole thing, so he can afford to cut her some slack. He's missed being able to afford that.

“I'm very sorry.” 

“No harm done, Kimmi-kun.” a jonin approaches her desk and saves him from this conversation. 

The man is clean-shaven and put together, not a hair out of place. He reminds Shika of Ebisu in his demeanor, but judging by Kimmi's frown as she looks over the report, the diligence ends at appearance.

“I'm sorry, jonin-san, you'll need to redo this.” 

“Excuse me?” He sneers. Shikami goes incredibly, unnaturally still. In his periphery, Iruka sits a little straighter and deliberately stamps a genin's report.

“You'll…you'll need to redo this report, sir. Some of your sections are formatted wrong, and you didn't complete the summary.”

“I don't see why a summary is necessary.” Shikami doesn't see why that tone is necessary, but it's important that shinobi can fight their own battles. He keeps his mouth shut.

“W-well, for filing purposes, for one thing. And…and for ease of access for Intelligence personnel.” textbook answer, point Kimmi. 

“Maybe I don't want every chunin I see to know all of the details of my mission.”

Shikami decides Kimmi's fought enough of her own battle, actually, and if this guy wants to yell at a chunin it won't be the fourteen-year-old girl. 

He reaches a hand out to Kimmi and she hands him the report, staring at the floor with tears in her eyes. It's not until he's got the report in his hand he considers their relationship centers entirely on a time she messed up his report, and she probably assumes he's agreeing with the asshole. 

Iruka is impressively red by now, and there's a queue hanging back to watch this interaction, rather than brave the looks on the faces of either man behind the desk.

The jonin has his head too far up his own ass to see this, though, and smiles an unpleasant smile at Shika.

“Finally, someone with a little experience.” The Nara is one hundred percent certain Kimmi has done more than two desk shifts since making chunin, so as far as this timeline is concerned, she has more experience than he does. Whatever. “Desk standards have really slipped lately, haven't they, Nara-san? Still,” his laugh is even less pleasant than his smile, “we all have to start somewhere, don't we?”

Shikami hums, scanning the report. “Generally where we all have to start is at the top of the page, jonin-san. But you seem to have elected to start elsewhere. Are you aware that rank is meant to be the first thing on the front page?” Shikami sets the report down on his desk, tapping the empty line. “Right here, where it says ‘rank’, your rank goes there.”

“I–”

“You can read, can't you, jonin-san?” the man splutters, but Shikami doesn't give him time to answer. “I only ask because right here, see where it says registration number’? You're supposed to put your registration number there. There are a lot of jonin in this village, and just writing your name is hardly enough information.”

“My name is known .”

“by some people, I'm certain. And I'm happy for you, it's important to have a close support group as a shinobi. But it's not known by me, or my friend here, or by anyone in Intelligence, so we need the registration number to file this." The crowd is being very patient while he breaks down how to write a report, and keeping their laughter mostly hidden.

“how dare you–”

“And then, here,” he taps the empty section. “I believe Kimmi-kun mentioned that you need a summary. See where it says ‘summary’? That's where you're meant to summarize the mission. You do know how to do that, don't you, jonin-san?”

“of course I do!”

“I'm sure you do. Now, down here in the outcome section, you've written ‘objective achieved’. Well, I assume that's what it's meant to say, but you've misspelled ‘achieved’. I always remember a rhyme I was taught in the academy to keep my ‘i’s and ‘e’s straight, jonin-san. I could jot it down for you if you like?”

“I have never in my life met such an insolent chunin.”

“ah, well, it's always good to broaden your horizons.” Shikami scribbles down the rhyme on a spare piece of paper, tapping the report with his off hand. “Now, back to ‘outcome’. Two words is hardly descriptive enough, especially given there's no summary of the mission. Are you under the impression that every time someone needs to reference a mission, they read the entire detailed report? Spelling mistakes and all?”

“Every bit of my report is vital information.”

“every bit of your B-rank, non-classified merchant escort mission?” Shikami shrugs, “if you say so, jonin-san. Never been on an escort mission, myself.” lie. “or a non-classified B-rank, for that matter.” that one is true, but most missions are classified in wartime. The jonin is nearly purple, so the dismissal clearly still comes across. “Regardless, if it's so vital, then all the more reason for a proper summary, so it can be more readily referenced. Now, in paragraph three, line four of your main report, right here,” he taps the page again, the jonin flinches just a tiny bit. Good. “you've used ‘their’ when it really should be ‘there’. And down here in paragraph nine you've got an ink blot obscuring most of this word. And on page three, paragraph–” 

The man snatches the report back before Shikami can tap the offence, storming off. “Oh, you forgot your rhyme!” The door slams. “Oh, well. That's a shame. I can help who's next!”

Chapter Text

Pakkun is less than impressed to be summoned by a visibly chakra-exhausted Kakashi, but it's been the norm since the war started. 

He's halfway through the regular grumbling about unnecessary risk before he looks around long enough to notice something very strange is going on.

For one thing, they're in Kakashi’s old apartment. Not even the one destroyed with most of the rest of the village in the war, the one before that one. An apartment Pakkun distinctly remembers moving out of not long before Naruto came back from his apprenticeship.

For another, Kakashi looks young and healthy. Too young by far, too healthy after years of injuries that healed wrong and not enough to eat. He's – well, Pakkun wouldn't go so far as to say he's well rested , but Kakashi never is. He doesn't look defeated, though, the way he has in the months since they lost Sakura.

Pakkun can sort of half-convince himself that they're not in the apartment, and that maybe somehow Kakashi’s gotten enough rest and food to account for the change in appearance. Not entirely, but he can try and reconcile it.

Then he spots something he can't even try to explain away.

Emerging from Kakashi's shitty, dusty little kitchen is Gai. Gai is there, alive. He's standing , even. Pakkun manages not to whimper at the sight, but it's a near thing. Judging by the concern in Kakashi’s eye, it doesn't go unnoticed.

“All right?” The boss asks, voice soft in a way it's only ever really been when something is deeply wrong with one of the pups (both ninken and human). 

Neither one of them has counted each other as a pup in years. Kakashi looks like one now, though, can't be more than five years older than Naruto. Whatever's going on, he doubts the boss knows anything about it. He's too young now. Not just physically, it's in his eyes.

“Fine, think I'm catching a cold. Stop trying to distract me from what an idiot you're being. Summoning me this exhausted. Honestly, boss.”

“I have already tried this argument, but it proved ineffective. Kakashi is simply too cool to leave a job unfinished.” As a rule, Pakkun shouldn't find Maito Gai's goofy speech pattern so comforting.

“Unfinished, is it? What do you need done, then?” Kakashi waves a mission scroll at him. “Since when do you care if a report goes in on time? They drug you or something?”

“It's urgent.”

“How urgent? "Go bother the hokage at night’ urgent?”

“‘Needs to be in the pile when he gets in tomorrow morning’ urgent. And Gai is convinced I can't manage a walk to the missions office.”

“Gai is convinced? Or the hospital put you on bedrest and he's not letting you squirm your way out of it?” Gai's laugh booms through the apartment and Kakashi rolls his eye.

“Pakkun, your knowledge of my eternal rival is a credit to you both! The youthfulness of your bond inspires me.”

“He's extra…” Kakashi waves his hand “ Gai today because his genin survived a c-rank.”

“Good for them, give that here.” Pakkun needs the excuse to get out from under Kakashi's gaze anyway, before the genius goes and realizes time travel exists or something.

“I could summon someone else.”

“With what chakra?” The ninken scoffs. “I'm fine, calm down.”

“I'm just saying if you're sick–”

“Give it a rest, Kakashi.”

“Fine, but we're talking about this when you get back.” Stubborn ass, if word ever spreads of how much Hatake Kakashi worries about his dogs his coldhearted reputation will be ruined. Still, for the moment he attaches the report to Pakkun's back.

“Sure, and we'll discuss how a regular forces jonin ends up chakra exhausted every other month. Now, I'm leaving before the missions office closes. Stay in bed.” He waits for Kakashi’s dismissal – no more than an exasperated nod – and takes off out the window.

The village is intact, not even rebuilding the way it was after the konoha crush, and Pakkun pauses several rooftops away to take it in.

He has exactly two guesses about what could be going on. Either the stress of the war has finally gotten to his head (not helpful to consider, and there's not much he can do about it) or the pups did the impossible.

There have been whispers about impossible seals and fixing things before they start for over a year, and more so in the last hard months, but last he heard it was the backup-backup plan and probably impossible. 

Even if it was possible, Pakkun hadn't even considered he might come back with them. 

Thinking about it now, though, it makes sense. Naruto's most promising seal moved the world back in time around the pups, not the pups themselves. If this realm moved in time, there's no reason to assume it would affect the spirit realm, where time moves differently anyway.

An Inuzuka ninken, then, who stays in this world full time, would move backwards with it. But Hatake ninken are different. They're an older sort, closer to the ancestral wolf spirits for all Pakkun doesn't look it. They're mortal of a sense, needing food and shelter and the like, but they live longer even than the Inuzuka dogs, surviving long into old age alongside their contract holders and occasionally beyond.

The Hatake ninken are closer to partners than subordinates, but they are still very much summons . The pups seem to have pulled off their miracle, they've wound back their clock. But not every clock. 

The spirits will feel the shift, and those closer to divinity will hardly notice. Pakkun, however, is very hardly a spirit at all, and he knows exactly how much force that seemingly tiny ripple in time cost.

Ironic, really, that Kaguya's obsession with reaching the material plane is the only reason she doesn't know everything already.

Pakkun's not overly concerned about that. If Kaguya's mind hadn't reset with the rest, if she'd had any connection left to the spirit world by that point, they would already be at war or dead. They're neither, so for the moment everything is fine.

For the moment, priority one is delivering this report. Priority two is to make sure the pups made it back alive. He crosses the threshold of Hokage tower, heading into the missions office.

File the report, then on the way home he'll sniff around for – 

•••

“Pakkun?”

The missions desk is minutes from closing when they get their final visitor of the night. 

Iruka's in the back room doing some last minute filing, and he'd let Kimmi cut early since they hadn't seen a soul in an hour. That leaves Shika alone at the desk, which is very lucky as he has no way to explain why he knows the names of Kakashi’s ninken.

He's halfway through stammering out an excuse to the dog staring at him when Pakkun says:

“Shikamaru?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, do I look like a pre-genin to you?” Pakkun tilts his head, sniffing the time traveller, and Shikami notices a mission scroll strapped to his back. 

“Kakashi–”

“Chakra exhausted and on Gai-enforced bedrest. I'm just delivering the report.”

“Time sensitive? The Hokage's not in.”

“Too time sensitive to wait on a week of bedrest. Not too time sensitive to wait till morning.” Shikami nods.

“Rank?”

“And here I thought you knew everything.”

“Mission rank, Pakkun? My clearance only goes so high.” Pakkun squints but nods.

“Probably too high for you, then. When'd you get back?”

“Recently.” He should call Iruka, but better to get this out of the way first. Shikami knew, intellectually, that Kakashi’s ninken couldn't exactly be temporal, given Pakkun looks the same age he did a decade from now, but he didn't think it went this deep.

“How long were you gone?”

“Are you making small talk with a dog?” Asks Iruka, peering over the desk to where Shikami is squatting in front of Pakkun.

“A dog? Just a regular dog? Do I look like some sort of mangey–”

“Yes, I'm making small talk with a dog, Iruka-san.” He pulls the scroll out of its holder. “High A or S, Pakkun?”

“S.” Shikami passes the scroll to Iruka.

“Kakashi's back, and on bedrest.” He can see the moment Iruka makes the connection.

“I'll make sure this is on top of the morning pile. Thank you for your service, Pakkun-san.” Pakkun puffs up his chest a little and seems to forgive Iruka for implying he's just a dog. Shikami snorts. “We're officially closed, Shikami-san, you're free.”

“You want me to wait until you're done?”

“I think I can manage the light switch on my own.”

“If you're sure.” Iruka waves him off and Shikami grins at the ninken waiting by the door. “Come on then, Pakkun. Let's go check on poor, exhausted Kakashi.”

“You don't think you've pissed off enough jonin today?” Iruka asks wryly

“One more couldn't hurt.” This finally startles a laugh out of Iruka, always a worthwhile endeavour. “Have a good night!”

“You as well.” They exit the hokage tower in silence, heading for the nearest roof. Shikami throws up the subtlest genjutsu he knows, makes it look like they're still walking along towards Kakashi’s, and sits down. “So.”

“So.”

“You're here.”

“So are you. Is Ino?” Shikami nods and the ninken flops down in relief. “Good. I'm glad. How long?”

“Back twelve years, been here a little over three weeks.”

“No team seven yet?” 

“Not yet. What happened on the mission? He really just chakra exhausted?”

“No clue what the mission was, but he seems to be. Honestly, Shikamaru, between ANBU and team seven he was…will be, I guess…anyway there's a long string of injuries. Too long to date this one. He's not taking care of himself.”

“Great. Perfect. That's something else to worry about. And it's Shikami.”

“Right, sure thing, pup. I can handle brooding Kakashi. He made it through mostly in one piece last time.”

“Still.” Shikami levers himself up onto the ledge of the roof. “We're aiming for better than last time.”

“I'll do my best.” They're running out of time if they want to catch the walking illusions, and start to move from roof to roof towards the apartment. “I don't know how to lie to Kakashi, you know.”

“I know.”

“So…?”

“Do what you can, or tell half truths. Odds are he'll find out eventually but preferably not yet. Not before team seven’s even formed.”

“I can try.”

“That's all I'm asking.” He needs to talk to Ino about this, because as talented as Pakkun is he won't hold up against Kakashi any better than Kakashi would hold up against him. Nothing to be done about it right now, though. “You think all of the spirits remember?”

“That's my best guess, but I haven't gotten to check yet.”

“Keep me updated.”

“Sure, commander.”

“You can't just avoid my name forever.”

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em, commander.” Shikami processes the reminder for what it is this time. Old habits die hard, and Pakkun's arrival is enough of a surprise to send him straight back into his wartime default. 

He relaxes his posture one muscle group at a time and forces out a sigh, shoving hands into pockets in time to line up with the illusion of himself when he drops the genjutsu at the door to Kakashi’s building.

“All right, all right. Point taken. Window or door?”

“Better be the door, he's not expecting company.” They head up the stairs and knock. Shikami is expecting loud, green, Gai. Instead he gets a long pause and muffled cursing.

“I thought you said he had a babysitter,” Shikami hisses at the ninken. 

“He did.”

Kakashi opens the door. He looks terrible . He's leaning heavily against the doorframe, a distant look in his visible eye and one hand holding his torso.

“Just chakra exhausted my ass, Pakkun.” Shikami bites out. “Go lay down, you're clearly concussed. Isn't someone supposed to be with you? I'm surprised they let you out of the hospital.” Kakashi allows himself to be maneuvered back to his bed with minimal fuss, which is more concerning than anything else the Nara has seen.

Pakkun follows behind, ears flat and eyes trained on the floor. How did he make this mistake? Kakashi’s good at hiding injuries but he's not even trying to hide now, and he's clearly hurting.

Shikami doesn't see how Kakashi’s oldest companion missed all of this, and he can feel the frustration building. That kind of thing costs lives – Pakkun's supposed to be better than this. They all are. They have to be.

He doesn't understand it, and then all of a sudden he does. Because laying down, not putting pressure on his injury, Kakashi still looks like shit. He looks terrible. He probably hasn't slept in days and he's definitely concussed.

But he's not starved. He's not broken. He looks worse than Shikami has ever seen this Kakashi, but Pakkun hasn't seen this Kakashi in years.

What did ‘normal’ look like by the end of the world? How much damage had they learned to filter out in order to look each other in the eyes every day and not fall apart?

As bad as Kakashi looks, it's better than his best day of the apocalypse. 

Shikami reaches back absently to pat Pakkun's head. It's an understandable mistake. No harm done. He can almost convince himself it's fine, and would never blame the ninken outside of his own head.

“What are you doing here?” Kakashi mumbles when Shikami has finished fussing with blankets and pillows.

“Happened to meet Pakkun here at the missions desk. Thought I'd check on you, make sure you weren’t going stir crazy. Didn't realise you were so hurt or I would've let you rest.”

“They're letting you work again?”

“Only in village.”

“Better than nothing.” Shikami nods, perching on the couch in the centre of the open loft. The place is pretty barren, ratty furniture and sparse adornment. Perfectly in character. “You don't have to hover, Shikami. Gai's already assigned himself babysitting duty. He just went to grab food.”

“I'm more than happy to hover until he gets back, then.” Like he's going to leave the idiot alone in this state?

Pakkun has scrambled up onto the bed and made himself comfortable on top of Kakashi, on the side of his chest that seems uninjured. Kakashi pats the dog absently, frowns.

“You led a stranger back to me? You must be sick.” Pakkun's glare is impressive, all the more because he's naturally adorable.

“You think I'm stupid? He smells right, I know how to trust my nose.” An insane comment from even most ninken, but with Pakkun's proven record for smelling danger it becomes a glowing endorsement. “Plus, he's friends with that guy you're always watching. Figured you could use all the help you can get in that department.” Kakashi chokes on his tea. Serves him right, thinking he could win against Pakkun when it comes to pettiness. 

“Pakkun–”

“What? I delivered the report, didn't I? You're supposed to be resting, and you were supposed to be taking a break from missions long enough to let those ribs heal.” Pakkun has clearly figured out when exactly they are, at least. “And now I try and do something nice for you, help with your love life –”

“All right, all right. Thank you for taking the report, Pakkun. Please, if you're so worried about my chakra usage, you'd better dismiss yourself.”

“Fine. Summon me tomorrow so I can be sure you haven’t managed to die overnight.”

“Sure, Pakkun. Get some rest, no training until the cold has passed.” Pakkun growls at being put on glorified bedrest himself, but disappears in a puff of smoke. Workaholics, both of them. 

Kakashi's face is three quarters covered, which does nothing to hide the pinkness of his ears. Pakkun's jab doesn't come from nowhere, then. The ninken managed to get by on nothing but half-truths like he'd suggested.

Shikami is more than happy to let the uncomfortable silence stretch. If what the ex-ANBU takes away from this is the feeling of mortification and a vague worry that his dog has a cold, Shika will count himself lucky. 

“I'm not watching Iruka.”

“Of course not.”

“I just like to keep an eye on Naruto.”

“Naturally.”

“And he's his academy sensei. So he's in the room. That's all.”

“Makes perfect sense to me.” Oh Pakkun's onto something, all right. Something real, that nothing came of last time. 

Shikami remembers hearing about a screaming match over their entrance into the chunin exams. Was that the end of it? Or were those feelings still there when Kiba found their sensei in a ditch, a handful of little kids still huddled crying under a barrier seal in the undergrowth while Iruka died playing distraction?

Something to contemplate later, maybe something to encourage. Pakkun's version of ‘better than last time’.

“Anyway.”

“Anyway.” Neither man is particularly socially competent, so the moment stretches to the edge of unbearable before Gai saves them.

He comes flying through the window in a blur of green, takeout trays perfectly intact, only to pause at the new face.

“You must be Nara Shikami! My rival mentioned your return to Konoha. Congratulations on the successful completion of your mission. I am Konoha's sublime beast of prey, Maito Gai!” Shikami gapes at Gai as if he was never comrades-at-arms with Rock Lee, pulses his chakra like he can't imagine anyone so enthusiastic could exist, and nods very slowly. A textbook response to meeting Gai, one he's seen on enough shinobi over the years to emulate.

“Nice to meet you, Gai-san.” He takes a step backwards, towards the window. “Anyway, I won't keep you from your meal. Glad you're still in one piece.”

“Shikami-kun, wait.”

“Hm?” He's never known Kakashi to prolong a social interaction. 

“Any update on the Mizuki situation?”

“Ah, the pre-genin have unionized.”

“ What? ” Gai, who had been unpacking the food, stays silent, but his eyebrows echo Kakashi's shock.

“The clan heirs have noticed the Mizuki situation – don't give me that look, Kakashi-san, I had nothing to do with this – they noticed the mistreatment, spent enough time with Naruto to decide they like him, and are waging some sort of cold war against Mizuki.” 

“And you expect me to believe you had no influence on this?”

“If I'd managed to get Ino-Shika-Cho to work together I'd be yelling it from the Hokage monument.” Kakashi doesn't seem to have an argument for that, but the unimpressed stare continues. “Okay. I asked Shikamaru if he thought the village's treatment of Naruto's made sense. I thought he might…I don't know. Invite him over to train or something? Not organise an academy-level coup. ”

“Now that I believe.”

“It is admirable for you to be so concerned for Naruto's wellbeing, Shikami-san. Many people who have been around him far longer could learn from the strength of your will.” Wow, he's never heard Gai shit-talk before.

“I just don't like to see people left behind,” he mutters honestly. Gai sits up a little straighter, while Kakashi slouches into his pillow. Loss always hovers around these two, both orphaned young, and Shikami shifts the topic a little, but not enough to lift the mood. He did tell the boys he'd ask. “Speaking of which, I've got an idea to bounce off of you before I go. If your head's up to a little more talk, that is.”

“Sure.” Kakashi doesn't trust easily, Shikami knows that, he does. Knows, too, that he doesn't like to make any more friends he could lose. But he's wasting energy on socialising while on bedrest, and postponing eating to hear a question. 

There's a little spark in Gai's eye as he leans on the kitchen island to listen, one that says exactly how rare this all is and speaks to the love of a man who'd been willing to follow his best friend into ANBU despite being a ray of sunshine.

Shikami's heart breaks a little, for how quickly he's wormed his way into a friendship by simply treating a kid like a kid, and engaging with a man on his own terms.

“Went for ramen with Iruka, to discuss the Mizuki situation.” Kakashi nods along. “Naruto and two of his little friends tagged along.” The copy-nin whispers the word friends, but Shika elects not to comment. “They were asking about history, and when they'd use it in the field and–” he squeezes his hands into fists and forces a breath through his teeth. No need to lose his cool again, they're all jumpy enough as it is. “Someone needs to explain Uzushio to them.” He murmurs, staring out the window.

“And you want me to do it?” Kakashi seems caught between shock and terror.

“I wanted you to have the option to. I didn't know her, everything I could tell them would be third hand at best. You did, though.”

“I'm not…I've been ordered against interacting.”

“Even if he approaches you?” 

“Why would he approach me?” 

“Iruka and I pointed them towards you, when they asked.” There's no answer from Kakashi, and Shikami's too much of a coward to look at him.

“I think, rival, that it would be much stranger to refuse to help the next generation with their education, being that you are technically a jonin instructor. It may even raise more questions about why you would avoid Naruto.” An excuse to talk to Naruto, wrapped in the exact wording of an order not to engage abnormally with Naruto, or provide clues to his parentage.

“Okay. Okay, I'll…Kushina would want…okay.”

“Okay.” Shikami heads out without any further word, and nearly misses the soft call after him.

“Thank you.” Nearly misses it, but doesn't.

•••

The day could have gone so much worse. Inoka takes solace in the fact, repeating it over and over in her head like a panic-reducing mantra. It’s hard to think past the stress, and the bone-deep weariness, that her first day back in T&I have brought. She may also be slightly chakra exhausted. Not enough to warrant medical intervention, or really even concern, so she’s deemed it irrelevant. 

Still, Ino drifts through the greenhouses on the way to the main house, having declined to wait for Inoichi while he finishes up. She’s fine. She can walk home just fine. A little crisis – insignificant in the grand scheme of things, since everyone is fine – isn’t enough to shake her that badly. Sure, it wasn’t pleasant, but she fought a war. This is nothing. 

It sounds false even in her own head, and she’s too much a Yamanaka to miss the glaring fallacies in her rationale, but there’s nothing to be done for it. She understands the root of the trauma, and she’s working with it. That’s good enough for today, is good enough for field clearance even in peacetime.

The intellectual knowledge that she’s over reactive right now does nothing to stop the way her blood goes cold when she gets close enough to the main house to hear a child wailing within. 

Inoka is through a door, kunai in hand and battle-ready before she’s even registered she’s moving. 

Sakura is sitting on the floor sobbing big, gulping sobs while three other kids hover around her uncertainly. All four sets of eyes snap to Inoka when she appears, and in the back of her head,  behind the adrenaline, she’s proud of their response time.

There’s no blood, no signs of violence at all, and while Sakura is crying the other three look more worried – Hinata – angry – Naruto – or both – Ino – than afraid or upset. She knows Inoichi is still at work, though he may be on his way by now, and Ino’s mother was in the middle of a pest control crisis in the orchid greenhouse when Inoka passed by. The kids are old enough to be home alone, nearly genin age as they are, but Inoka is probably the first trusted adult they’ve encountered since school ended.

She just barely has time to stow the kunai before she’s hit with the voices of four distressed children, and an armful of Sakura. One more scan for injuries is enough to spot the source of the crisis, and for Inoka to fully untense.

“Is that gum?” she murmurs gently, patting Sakura’s back in an attempt at comfort. The sobs redouble as Sakura nods. Just below the little girl’s ear, a sizable chunk of hair is wrapped around a wad of gum. “Oh sweetheart, how did that happen?”

“Ami did it!” Ino exclaims.

“It was sabotage.” adds Naruto. 

Hinata says nothing, only drifts close enough to hold Sakura’s hand. She’s been around a lot, the last couple of days. A few training sessions weren’t enough to change the outcome of her spar with Hanabi, and Hiashi Hyuuga is much less concerned with the movements of his timid daughter now that she’s the spare. Still his loss, but the poor thing at least has people to lean on this time.

“Did she now?” Inoka deliberately does not raise her voice, lest it crack. “Well that wasn’t very nice.”

“No, Inoka-nee, she’s evil.” Ino presses. 

“She’s probably not evil , Ino-chan.” Ino deflates a little, used to Inoka pushing for empathy when she jumps to extremes. 

“No, she’s evil.” Naruto has no such expectations, and an incredibly strong sense of right and wrong.

“She’s probably not evil,” Inoka repeats, examining the gum. It’s really stuck in there. “But she is a vicious, mean, miserable little brat.” Ino’s mouth drops open a little. “What? Not everything has nuance, sometimes people are just bullies.” Ino nods eagerly, and Naruto seems satisfied that Inoka knows what she’s talking about. Bloodthirsty little monsters, the both of them, where their friends are concerned. “This is going to take a very long time to get out, Sakura-chan, and we might lose a bit of hair, but shouldn’t be noticeable.”

“Y-you can get it out?” Sakura whimpers. Inoka has done open heart surgery on an active battlefield, she can certainly manage to get gum out of hair. It’s tedious, not hard. 

She’s also seen Sakura keep a teammate’s heart beating with her bare hands and not flinch, but she was always very emotional about her hair. No shame in that, they all have their quirks.

“Of course I can, Sakura-chan. Come on, then, let’s sit down and I’ll get started. You let me know if I’m hurting your scalp, okay?”

“Okay Inoka-nee.” She's not sure when she became everyone’s big sister, but it’s certainly been spreading. At least Sakura has stopped crying.

She takes her time, going strand by strand, and the methodical motion blends with the chatter of the much cheerier pre-genin as she works. By the time she pulls the last of the hair free Inoka s laughing along with the kids, as relaxes as she ever is.

She had to take out Sakura’s ribbon to work, and it's found its way into Naruto's hair, in place of his goggles. When she's declared gum-free, rather than the fit she certainly would have pitched the month before, Sakura just squawks and puts on the goggles in retribution. The future of team seven looks bright.

Inoichi pokes his head in the door of the bathroom they're set up in, raising an eyebrow. He's considerably later than she'd expected, but workplace injuries do cause a lot of extra paperwork.

“We have several perfectly good rooms for hosting.”

“We needed more light,” Inoka responds before the kids can get frazzled. They're still young enough to fear a scolding, especially given Hinata and Naruto's respective upbringings. “Hair surgery is risky business, you know.”

He looks at Sakura’s red, slightly puffy eyes, catching on quickly. “Well, you're the expert on surgery.” Inoichi leads them out into the front room. “Yuna's still caught up in the greenhouse, and we're getting a little late to cook dinner. Why don't we go out to eat, bring her something back as a surprise?” Ino and Sakura cheer. Naruto freezes. Hinata wrings her hands. 

Inoka puts an arm around each of the nervous children, steering them gently towards the door. No man left behind and all that.

“Yakiniku Q?” Inoichi is humouring the cheering girls, but he flicks his gaze to Inoka. He's seen enough of her mind to know it's a special place, a near sacred place to team ten once Asuma was gone. 

Is this blasphemy? Ask her father's eyes. It might have been, a week ago. 

But tonight's a good night, today could have gone so much worse.

“Sounds perfect.”

Chapter Text

There are a series of councils over which the Hokage presides. Besides the small council, the clan leaders all sit on at least one. They all sit on the clan council, of course, but it's generally acceptable to send a stand-in or to leave to handle a clan problem. At the full council, when it's called, every member is expected to be in attendance.

Full councils don't get called all that often, but every single time they do, Inuzuka Hana gets dragged into one of her idiot brother's idiot schemes and ends up in trouble. Never mind that she's a chunin now, or that she's starting to be recognized as a competent vet, because if she brings any of that up all her mother does is laugh and point out that a chunin should be able to handle a pre-genin and his puppy. 

As if she's any better at it.

Kiba's feral even by Inuzuka standards, and a hyperactive kid on top of it all. Hana loves him endlessly, thinks he’s hilarious in the way only a sibling can, and has been taking care of him every time her mother is out of the village since she was ten, but during full council meetings she tends to find herself contemplating how easy it must be to be an only child.

Which is why when Hana gets to the compound after a week and a half long mission only for Akita to inform her that her mother is in a full council meeting, she’s expecting Kiba to have set the main house on fire, or opened the puppy kennels, or set a colony of stray cats loose on the grounds or something. She’s hoping he maybe decided to terrorise someone not on clan grounds, but she’s not optimistic. At least she can’t be held responsible for whatever it is this time, she wasn’t even within the walls when the meeting started. 

It’ll still be her problem to clean up, she’s certain of it.

There are no cats, though. The puppy kennels are undisturbed, the main house doesn’t even seem to be smoking. Hana’s considering someone might have kidnapped her brother, checking inside the house – as neat as it ever gets, which admittedly isn’t a high bar – and sending the triplets to check for him out back, but they start barking immediately. 

Heading out the back door, Hana freezes on the low porch. There’s Kiba, Akamaru perched on his head, meditating . Trying to meditate, anyways, the triplets seem to have disturbed any attempt at it. He’s cross-legged, though, hands on his knees and everything in what to all appearances is an earnest attempt at meditation. 

Clearly someone has kidnapped Kiba, and their fake isn’t very convincing. 

He smells right, though, and he smiles that goofy little smile that hasn’t changed since he was two when he sees her. 

“Hana!” the pre-genin gets to his feet, bounding over to her. “You’re back! How was the mission? Was it super cool? Did anyone get hurt? Or I’m not supposed to ask that, right? ‘Cause Shikamaru’s cousin Shikami-san’s teammate who’s Ino’s cousin-sister-person says you shouldn’t ask about casualties since it’s not always good news. And she seems like she mostly knows what she’s talking about, but I figured I should check with you, since you know, like, everything about being a mednin, right? But anyway, how was the mission? Did you get to do anything interesting? Were there any cool fights, or, or were you too sneaky for anybody to get close enough to fight with you? Or what?” 

Yeah, it’s the real Kiba.

“Mission was good, squirt, and boring. No fights, no sneaking.” Standard border patrol, but that won’t interest him. “That’s a good call by…Ino’s cousin, was it?” an eager nod from her brother and a bark from Akamaru tells her she somehow followed that train of thought successfully. And since when does Kiba hang around with Ino enough to know her cousins? Since when does he talk to girls at all? “A good bit of advice, generally. But the worst we had was some bruises and scrapes, so no worries there. What’s up with you, hm? Meditating during prime pranking time?” Meditating at all? She doesn’t ask, not wanting to discourage it. Kiba’s having a terrible time with the henge, and she knows failing the graduation exam would break his heart. Hana almost regrets tempting fate by asking about the pranking, but nuisance or not he’s her little brother and he’s being weird.

“Shikami-san says he won’t teach us to tree walk until we can do the academy three, and now Naruto can do the henge and the substitution. I can’t be the one to slow us down, Hana-nee, I’ll die. The girls will start learning, like… I don’t know, genjutsu breaking, or mednin diagnostics, or how to juggle swords or something and we’ll be even further behind.” This is a lot to take in from a kid who could barely be bothered to drag himself out of bed in time for school when she left.

“Do you…want to learn the diagnostic jutsu?” It might take a while, but he’s smart, and stubborn, and his chakra control is about average. They could figure it out eventually.

Kiba kicks the dirt, glaring at the ground. Clearly not the point, then. “No! Yes, maybe yes, actually. But that’s not the point Hana-nee! We’re falling behind. The girls are gonna win !” yes, right, she has to put herself in the mind of an overly competitive pre-genin. “Now, come on, I’m gonna be late, but I missed you, so you gotta talk and walk.”

“Late?” she asks, but follows him through the house without complaint. If this is where the havoc begins, she’d better stick with him to minimise the damage. If there’s no havoc, she wants to see what’s caused this change in her feral baby brother. 

Hana does stall Kiba long enough to splash some water on her face and drag a brush through her hair, dropping her mission pack in favour of a light jacket but opting to keep the chunin vest. Never hurts to be prepared in the face of potential chaos.

“Come on, Hana.” Kiba whines. “I’m gonna be the last one there and Shino will never let me live it down ever.” Shino? Since when did Kiba talk to Shino? Naruto was one thing, he’s been an occasional presence over the years, but this is getting strange. 

“I thought you said Shino was a ‘loner nerd who never wants to do anything fun ever’?” Kiba frowns at her like she’s a particularly slow toddler.

“What? No, Shino’s funny and cool. That’s mean, Hana-nee, don’t say mean stuff about my friends.” of course, what had she been thinking? That must have been one of the other kids she eats dinner with. There are so many. 

“Right, my mistake.” they exit the compound, which is good and bad. Good, because the damage won’t be to the compound. Bad because it’ll be to someone she feels the need to apologise to. 

“It’s cool, you just got off a mission so you’re probably really tired. Not everyone can be on their game all the time.”

“Don’t you start with me.” Kiba grins his best innocent grin, which isn’t very innocent at all. Brat.

“Anyway, Shino’s gonna be all like –” Kiba ducks his chin down into his collar, “ – ‘you must need to train endurance harder. Why? Because even Shikamaru beat you here.’ It’ll be devastating. I’ll have to go into hiding or become a nukenin or something.”

“You can’t be a nukenin if you’re not even a ninja,” Hana points out, scratching one of her ninken behind his ears. She’d promised the poor boys a rest when they got home. 

“You know what I mean.”

“Sure, squirt. Where exactly are we going? What exactly is going on, for that matter?”

“The Nara woods.” All right. They’re usually a pretty laid back clan, and it sounds like their heir’s involved. Kiba probably can’t cause an inter-clan incident there. Not in a way that’s going to land on just the Inuzuka, anyway, if the Aburame kid is involved. Could be worse. She’ll offer to round up the deer with the triplets or something, if they need to do reparations.

“And why?” Kiba glances around at the mostly empty street, checking rooftops and trees like a good tiny almost-ninja, and beckons her closer, then closer again until he barely has to whisper. It’s sort of adorable, but she’ll never tell him that. She’ll be telling her mother, though, she deserves to know about her youngest’s budding espionage skills. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you’ve gotta keep it super secret, okay?”

“Cross my heart.” stupid, to promise without knowing what it is. She really must be tired from the mission.

“We’ve formed an alliance.” Him, and the Nara kid, and the Aburame kid, and the biggest prankster in the village? Terrifying. She nods. “We’re going to get a teacher fired.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Hana-nee. And you can’t tell anyone. You crossed your heart. You’re in it now.”  Inuzuka Hana’s broken promises before. She’s sworn everything would be fine and failed to deliver more than once. One of these days she’s going to learn to stop humouring Kiba. Probably not today, though.

“You’re trying to get a teacher fired? ” she hisses, stopping dead in the middle of the road. Kiba nods. “Your teacher?” another nod. “Iruka? Why would you want–”

“Not Iruka-sensei – Mizuki.” Mizuki is their other teacher? No wonder Kiba never talks about him. Is he even qualified to teach?

“Why?”

“He’s an asshole.” and, yeah, Kiba’s pretty much right. Hana went through the academy a few years behind Mizuki and Iruka, there’s always been something a little off about the guy. Is that worth letting the pre-genin ruin his career? Kiba must see some of the hesitation on her face, because he continues on, none of the trademark cockiness in his voice. “He’s… he’s mean, Hana-nee. Just when he thinks nobody’s watching. Just to kids nobody will believe.”

“Oh,” she says, which doesn’t exactly cover the incredible rage at Mizuki and incredible pride in Kiba warring inside her. “Well, fuck that, then. Let’s ruin his whole career.” she straightens up, ruffling Kiba’s hair, and they continue towards the Nara compound.

He leans into her hand for a half a second, just a tiny bit. Just enough to say ‘I knew you’d understand’. Just enough to say ‘thank you’.

•••

“I know you all think this is hilarious, but I actually don't need a babysitter.” Kakashi sighs when they climb in his window at the end of the work day. 

“I know you're speaking,” Inoka deadpans, “but all I'm hearing is ‘I did a summoning jutsu while severely chakra exhausted earlier this week.”

“She's got you there,” Genma puts in, settling onto the couch with a book. 

“This is unnecessary. I don't need a babysitter and I certainly don't need three.” Anko looks up from where she's sprawled on his rug to stick her tongue out. “Anko's still injured. Isn't she supposed to be resting?” Genma has found over years of semi-friendship with Kakashi that the elite jonin has a remarkable capacity to act like a toddler when it comes to his health.

“Anko is resting,” he says, not looking up from his book. “That's why I'm here, to keep an eye on her.” Sticking out her tongue is apparently no longer enough, Anko flips him off.

“And I'm not staying,” Inoka is still perched in the window. “I have to go supervise a pre-teen war council.” And with that, she's gone.

“What?” Genma and Anko both ask, staring out the window after their friend. 

“Oh, is that today?”

“ What? ”

“That's why she left you two here, I was planning to go watch the chaos.”

“Kakashi, my friend, my captain, genius of our generation, what the fuck are you talking about?” Anko seems to be past words, gesturing at Genma with a series of inarticulate sounds.

“You don't know?” Smug bastard.

“Clearly not,” growls Anko, looking like she might do something to aggravate her injuries. Or Kakashi's. Or both

“Anko, no. Ino will kill me if you pull a stitch.” She compromises by kicking Kakashi in the shin.

“Ow, okay fine. You remember when we were talking about Mizuki at the bar?”

“Sure.”

“Iruka's been down ever since.” Has he? Now Genma feels kinda bad they brought it up in public.

“Right, well, he's been watching Mizuki. And, as suspected, he's an ass. But while Iruka's been trying to figure out how to deal with it, he noticed something else.”

“What, what?” 

“Calm down, Anko, before you start bleeding again.”

“You're no fun when you're trying to impress Inoka-chan.” Kakashi raises an eyebrow and Genma desperately steers them back on topic.

“ Anyway, what did Iruka notice?”

“Ever since our wayward chunin returned, their cousins have been warming up to Naruto. Then the rest of the clan kids. And now they're apparently trying to get Mizuki fired.”

“What?”

“serves him right,” Anko declares. 

“No, wait. They're going after Mizuki. Good, great. I'm sure they'll destroy him no problem. But, they're warming to Naruto? They're…is he making friends, Kakashi?” If anyone knows it'll be him. Kami knows he's managed to keep a closer eye on the kid than Genma has, especially since he left ANBU. 

The way that kid has grown up is an enduring shame for Genma, and he knows Raidou and Iwashi feel the same. It's a terrible Hokage's guard who can't even take care of his legacy when he's gone.

“Seems so.”

“But the clan heads–” their hands are supposed to be just as tied, everyone who cares about Naruto's well being kept at a distance by a single order.

“Technically, they have nothing to do with it. The friendship of academy children isn't exactly regulated.” Which is…true. An easy workaround, so long as the kids decide it on their own terms. Fuck. It can't be that simple. Genma pulls off his bandana in favour of scrubbing hands through his hair. “Friends.”

“Friends willing to stick their necks out against a teacher for him,” Anko adds softly.

“You know,” Kakashi murmurs, raw and genuine like Genma hasn't heard in a long time. This conversation shouldn't work, really, the three of them aren't exactly famous for letting their guards down. But they were war orphans, and they were lonely children. Naruto's always going to be one of their own. “Shikami, when he came by, he said he ran into ‘Naruto and his little friends’ like that was the most normal thing in the world.”

“I don't think they ever even considered hating him,” Genma says.

“Do you feel like they're too good to be true?” Anko asks, flopping back onto the rug.

It's not that he hasn't considered it. A couple of chunin appearing out of nowhere and doing everything exactly right to ingratiate themselves into their group is reason to be suspicious. But Inoichi and Shikaku aren't easy marks, and it's only luck that Genma met Inoka in the woods. Besides, they're balls of competent trauma, which is all that's really needed to end up in their particular circle.

“I think they're survivors,” he concludes “I think they've been in a warzone for over a decade while the village was at peace, and they only fit in with us because we never really moved past the war either.”

“And,” Kakashi adds, “they weren't here for the kyuubi attack. They didn't see the destruction, it's long since rebuilt. They don't have the same motivation to hate Naruto.” It's a good point, which Genma hadn't considered. Strangely reasonable, from the ever paranoid jonin.

“ You trust them?” Anko asks before he gets the chance.

“More or less,” a glowing endorsement, coming from him. He probably only more or less trusts Anko and Genma, too.

The silence stretches comfortably, all three of them content to sit and think. “You know why Shikami cares about Naruto?” Kakashi asks after a while. Two heads shake. “He said he doesn't like to see people left behind. I don't think it's a lie. I don't think they were always a two-man squad.”

And oh, if that doesn't put everything in new, sickeningly sharp focus. Genma locks eyes with Anko, remembering the sheer panic on Inoka's face when she screamed. How fast she'd laid into the interns, her eyes somewhere else entirely.

“I think you may be right.”

•••

Admittedly, it was Hana’s mistake, thinking this conspiracy was only four kids big. 

No, they get to the Nara compound, and are escorted by a sleepy-looking Shikamaru to a hill maybe ten minutes into the woods. There, at the top of the hill are the heirs to just about every major clan in the village, and the fucking jinchuriki. The next generation of powerful shinobi, aligned under a common goal before they even find out how bad the world can really get. Hana’s going to retire when Kiba’s class makes genin, for the sake of her sanity.

“You said you had an alliance , not that you’d formed a junior clan council.”

“Is there a difference?” asks the Nara kid. 

“Yes there’s a difference, brat,” says a voice behind her. Hana wheels around to find an unfamiliar Nara ambling out of the woods. He smells like tobacco and pine and grief, and she hadn’t sensed him coming. Neither had the Haimarus, judging by the whines. 

It’s an impressive feat, impressive enough for her to connect ‘Nara Shikami, Shikamaru’s new cousin who said he’d teach Kiba to tree walk’ with the unknown Nara who came back from a long-term, deep-cover, lost-cause mission in Mist after everyone thought he was dead just before she left on her last mission. “You know there’s a difference, Shikamaru. Now be polite to Inuzuka-san like a proper clan heir and go back to your war council.”

Wonder of wonders, Shikamaru sketches a bow to Hana before Kiba more-or-less drags him up the hill.

“You had a hand in this scheme, I assume?”

“Oh sage no. No, I found out and I haven’t actively stopped it, but this is all them.” Nara Shikami stays in parade rest, watching the kids at the top of the hill. “How much did he tell you?”

“That Mizuki’s a bully. And probably a bigot.”

“Mhm, definitely a bigot. Especially likes to pick on Naruto.” Hana winces, which seems to calm something in the Nara. 

“Well, that’s unacceptable.”

“Agreed.”

“And you’re leaving this to a bunch of pre-genin?” forgoing propriety just to see what the unusually stiff Nara does, Hana sits down and whistles to the triplets to signal a rest. They flop down around her. He doesn't so much as twitch, so the stiffness must be more personal comfort than stuck up bullshit.

“No, obviously not, but those particular kids are surprisingly effective in this case.” Hana catches his meaning, counting the clan heirs again. Yeah, those kids have clout. “I can bring Kiba home after, if you want to rest. He said you were on a mission.”

She snorts, “I wouldn’t miss the academy war council for the world, Shikami-san, but thanks. He mentioned something about tree-walking?”

“Ah, yeah well they did ask. I’m more worried about the henge right now.” there’s a flicker of a presence in the trees, then a Yamanaka lands beside the Nara. must be the other half of the miracle chunin duo. Nice of her to give a heads up. “You’re late.”

“Some of us have day jobs, Shika,” she snarks, before turning to Hana. “Nice to meet you Inuzuka-san.”

“Just Hana’s fine. Yamanaka Inoka, I presume?”

“Yep,” she flops down in the grass in front of Shikami. “How’re they faring?”

“They’re getting there.”

“What’s the current plan?” Hana asks, ears not quite picking up the conversation from the base of the hill. Shikami answers, relaxing enough to lean back against a tree.

“Last I heard, Sakura wants to provoke him.”

“Which one is Sakura? The pink one?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t like it.” Inoka puts in.

“Neither does Ino. Kakashi coming?”

“The only way that man’s getting out of bedrest this time is over my dead body.” that startles a laugh out of Hana. While she’s never had the personal pleasure of being Hatake Kakashi’s medic, she’s heard stories. Funny, given how strict he is with the health of his ninken. 

“Hatake knows?”

“More or less,” Shikami agrees, “He noticed, he pointed the issue out to Iruka. Iruka noticed the kids were doing something about it, I bullied the details out of Shikamaru. You see the picture.” she does, she also generally trusts Kakashi never to trust anybody. She takes it as a point of professional pride that the jumpiest shinobi in the village trusts her – a relative rookie – to treat his ninken. Next time they come in she’ll have to get his read on the miracle duo, see if they’re as trustworthy as they seem at first glance.

“Should we go supervise?” Shikami heaves a sigh at the Inuzuka’s question, but nods. 

“Yeah, probably.” They head up the hill slowly, sitting back down at the base of the big tree on top. 

“I’m just saying–”

“And I’m saying absolutely not.”

“I-I agree with Ino-chan. It’s too risky” good for the little Hyuga, speaking her mind. Hina? Hiwami? Something like that.

“Much as I hate to say it, I’m with Ino too. It’s not tactically sound. We don’t know how much the council cares about the education standards of civilian-born students. Why test it?”

“We know they don’t care about the standards for Naruto, though. And he won’t try it with the rest of you.” Pinkie's got a point. Hana is profoundly uncomfortable that not only do these kids have no faith in the adults who run the village, but they’re pretty much right not to.

“We need another approach,” says the Aburame kid. Shino, who’s now Kiba’s friend and not to be insulted. She’s entertained to see he’s wearing the exact sort of high collar her brother had mimicked. “Why? Because putting one of our own at needless risk is not the Konoha creed.”

“Much more Mist’s style,” Naruto agrees, glancing at Shikami and Inoka. So the kids know about that, too. At least enough to know where they were stationed and what it means. Good, Tsume’s always been of the opinion that if they’re old enough to ask a question they’re old enough to know the answer, and Hana’s the same. 

“Is it needless, though? We need to force his hand or we’re gonna graduate and he’s gonna keep getting to bully other students.” Credit where credit’s due, the pink one’s got grit. Sakura, they'd said her name was. Hana will have to grill Kiba for which of theses faces match which names she's heard at the dinner table over the years, if they're friends now. “What’s our alternative?” 

They sit in relative quiet for a while, long enough for Hana to marvel at these kids who were ignoring each other at best when she left, working as one unit. The only major clan heir they’re missing is the Uchiha boy, who she knows isn’t big on interacting with anyone these days. 

“You’re thinking too small,” Shikami prods eventually. It’s not until that exact moment that Hana realises this is a lesson, to him, as much as it is a mission. 

The kids may have come together on their own terms, but they’re learning tactics and politics whether they know it or not. Inoka catches her eyes, smiling a little, inviting her to be in on the secret lesson. She smells like grief too, almost identical to her partner, but also flowers and something sweet. 

If they turn out to be trustworthy, if this all goes as planned – as well as can be expected with children in charge of the plan– and if Kakashi gives her the all clear, she’ll have to remember to thank these two. A pair of shinobi who are so clearly still recovering from their mission in hell, who are spending their leave trying to teach children who they have no connection to for the most part. Teach them to survive, to band together. To leave nobody behind.

“How?” Shikamaru growls.

“You have resources outside of what’s here right now. Use them.”

“What resources?” murmurs Kiba

“Oh,” whispers the Nara heir, locking eyes with his cousin. “Parent-teacher conferences are this week.”

“ Exactly .”

Chapter Text

Iruka drags himself back to the academy after an incredibly quick dinner with the other teachers, sets his jaw and gets ready for the closest thing he sees to battle during the school year.

The others look at him with pure pity, as they usually do, because while their parent-teacher conferences are a hard enough mix of branch-line clan parents looking to ensure their children are on a path to success and civilian parents who either don't know or don't like the curriculum, his carry the additional nightmares of clan heads and civilian mothers who would really like their kid to marry up. Doesn't help that this is the second last conference before they graduate.

Should be fun.

Mizuki, as the assistant teacher, is exempt from this torture. Usually Iruka envies him, but this time he's just glad the man's not there. 

On top of the usual stress, he's about to find out if Shikami's theory holds any weight. How much do the most powerful people in the village listen to their children? How far will they stick their necks out for one little pariah?

Iruka pats a slightly pale Suzume on the shoulder as he heads towards his room. “Good luck.” With Hyuga Hanabi now the official heir, her conference is going to be much more tense this year. He wonders if Hinata's father will bother to come to his eldest daughter's meeting at all.

“You too.” He nods, shutting his door for a couple moments of peace.

He takes the time to write out a brief report of Naruto's progress – more positive than it's been in years, with motivation to show up and people to study with – and set it on the window ledge for Kakashi. He's sure the Hokage knows he does this, and has been for years, but at least he turns a blind eye.

Iruka takes a couple of deep, calming breaths, and pulls out his notes on Nara Shikamaru. At the very least, he has good news for most of the parents this semester.

A knock on his door signals the start of his gauntlet. “Come in!” In comes Nara Yoshino…and Nara Shikamaru… and Nara Shikaku. That's strange. He hasn't seen father or son at one of these in years. Some parents don't come, or only make it some years. Clan leaders, especially, tend to be busy. Inoichi and Choza nearly always make it, though, and he rather expects Shikaku's absence is more to do with disinterest than anything. He knows as well as Iruka does that Shikamaru could have graduated years ago.

And yet he's here.

“Hey, sensei,”Shikamaru says, slouching into a chair.

“Hello, Shikamaru. Nara-sama, Nara-sama, nice to see you both.”

“Always a pleasure, Iruka-sensei,” says Yoshino, the picture of civility whenever her son isn't in trouble. “Now if you don't mind, I've been hearing some very concerning things from my son about school lately.”

“The whole family has,” Shikaku agrees, which Iruka takes to mean that Shikami has been talking shit about Mizuki to anyone who will listen. “Though my understanding is that you're not at issue at all.” He glances at his son for confirmation, and Shikamaru shakes his head seriously. 

Are the Nara parents aware their son is leading a crusade with Ino and Sakura? Probably, and it's not strictly Iruka's fault if they're not.

“Iruka-sensei's good, tou-san. It's just Mizuki-sensei who's being…weird.” ‘Weird’ is not enough information, not by Nara standards, but neither adult so much as raises an eyebrow. Oh yeah, whatever their kid is planning, they're in the know. 

“Yes, Mizuki -sensei, that's what I'm concerned about,” Yoshino continues, “It's my mistake, perhaps, that I didn't check into Shikamaru's teachers in enough detail. I did trust that the academy’s standards were consistent when it came to appointments, and took your spotless record as a benchmark,” 

The Nara matriarch pulls out a full binder, flipping through to a tab that he thinks is labelled ‘Mizuki, dirt + blackmail’. Iruka reaffirms a commitment he makes every semester to never cross the former head Researcher for Intelligence under any circumstances. Nara Yoshino terrifies him far more than her husband does. “And we've never had an issue with you. But now Shikamaru is telling me his classmates are being targeted, ignored or singled out, and by a man who was originally not even granted his teaching licence? That's not acceptable. I will be bringing a formal complaint with the headmaster, but I thought you'd better be aware of what's going on as well.”

“Trust me, Nara-sama, I am aware of the issues, thank you for informing me. I have already alerted the headmaster to the issue,” – and was told not to waste the man's time on personal disputes– “though we're always happy to receive parent feedback.” They're actually never happy to receive parent feedback, but in this one instance Iruka actually means it. “And well done, Shikamaru, keeping an eye out for your classmates.”

“Loyalty is an important trait for Konoha shinobi, sensei.” Shikamaru almost pulls off the concerned peer act, but his eyes are still too sharp. Iruka admits, he hadn't expected any of the kids to go so far as to enlist their parents’ help with their coup, and he's sort of impressed with the planning.

“I trust you'll keep us apprised,” Shikaku says. Seems like his wife and son had this more than handled, so it's nice of the clan leader to show up just to affirm the united front. “Now, has he been sleeping through classes again?” 

This is one he's happy to answer. “Not once this month.” Shikaku's eyes go the sort of comically wide usually reserved for cartoons.

“Not once? Are you getting enough sleep?” Shikamaru shrugs. Yoshino shoots her husband a half-hearted glare, but she looks surprised too. “Shikamaru, you've been getting up earlier as well. Are you sleeping enough?”

“I'm sleeping fine. Shikami said he wouldn't help me with my shadow possession if I didn't pay attention in class.”

“And you listened?”

“Yeah, I don't know. Whatever. He's annoyingly persistent. That's not about school is it?”

Iruka takes pity on the kid while considering if Shikami might like a fruit basket. “Here's what is about school, you make great theoretical grades. Nothing new there. Your practical skills are improving at speed, you've got the academy three down. You're doing very well, Shikamaru, I'm very impressed.”

The youngest Nara blushes a little, looking determinedly out the window to avoid his mother's proud gaze.

“Hey, sensei. There's a man in your tree.” He mumbles, not looking back at anyone. Iruka glances at Kakashi, who waves unrepentantly.

“Ah, yes, well he's waiting his turn to pick up his report. Not everyone can attend a full meeting.” Shikamaru tilts his head a little and narrows his eyes, assessing threat level if Iruka had to guess. Kid's gonna be one hell of a strategist one day. 

Over his head, Shikaku and Yoshino exchange a meaningful glance.

“It's nice of you to offer that for him, Iruka-sensei.” Shikaku says carefully. “Your commitment to all of your students is clear.”

“Admirable, really,” Yoshino agrees. “It makes us much more comfortable sending Shikamaru to school, knowing his sensei is so fair-minded.”

Iruka can admit he was sceptical, when Shikami hinted at the clan heads caring about Naruto. He's so used to the hatred whenever he's around the boy, he hasn't quite been able to believe it didn't extend to the whole village besides he, Kakashi, and their small group of committed jonin. And Teuchi of course.

Letting your child befriend another is one thing, a very different thing than worrying about him yourself.

He should have known better than to doubt a Nara where his own clan was concerned, at least.

“We try to be as accommodating as possible to special situations, Nara-sama.”

“I'm sure you do,” Shikaku says, emphasising ‘you’ just enough for Iruka to be certain he knows how the headmaster feels about Naruto. He stands slowly, yawning. “It sounds like everything is going well, then, with Shikamaru?”

“Yes, Nara-sama.”

“Then we won’t keep you. I believe Yoshino has a very detailed complaint to file.” Iruka believes it, that binder has some serious heft to it. “We will see you next semester. Good luck with the rest of your meetings, Iruka-sensei.” The Nara main line files out of the room, Shikaku's clan leader bearing dropping into a slouch before they're fully out the door.

That was interesting. Not entirely unexpected, not from the family of one of Naruto's biggest supporters. Two of his biggest supporters, really, given Shikamaru is at the centre of the great Naruto shift. But a clan filing a formal complaint is nothing to sneeze at. It's a start. 

In the two minutes before the Inuzuka arrive – and sage help him there – the scroll on the window disappears in a blur of white-blue-green, and is replaced with a coffee. Iruka idly checks the coffee for poison, shutting his window and reactivating the wards. It's never been poisoned before, but it pays to be vigilant. It's not poisoned this year either, so he'll get through the meeting with the Inuzuka with his sanity intact.

The door bangs open and Inuzuka Tsume enters shouting. “Iruka! How's my favourite child-wrangler?” Kuromaru, Kiba, and Akamaru follow after. 

“Inuzuka-sama, always good to see you.”

“What have I told you about that name?” Not one of the Inuzuka sits in his chairs. Tsume paces like a caged animal from the moment the door swings shut, Kuromaru on her heals, while Kiba hops up into the windowsill, swinging his feet with Akamaru perched on his head. So far, par for the course. “Brat, get out of the window!” Tsume loses this fight to pure little boy stubborness every time, but they have to play it out before anything can get done. This time, Kiba frowns thoughtfully, and climbs back down.

“This is that ‘defensible position’ thing Shikami-san was talking about, isn't it?” he asks, plopping down in a corner with a view of the door, instead. Tsume laughs, stopping her pacing long enough to shoot her son a thumbs up and moving on from the window issue in record time. A fruit basket isn't enough.

“Damn right it is. I like that Shikami, solid head on his shoulders. You know Shikami, Iruka?” 

“I'm familiar with him, Inuzuka-sama.”

“Iruka,” she growls.

“Tsume-san,” he quickly corrects. “Now then, onto Kiba.” He'd indulge a conversation about Shikami, but if he lets Tsume get a little off topic they'll never get back on it.

“Hang on, hang on. We'll get to the pup. I know no one's looking out for the Uzumaki kid, and it's nice of you lot to keep an eye on him, but why'd your assistant teacher go traipsing through my clan lands shouting for him a couple weeks ago? Didn't even get permission. There some kinda emergency?”

Now, Tsume doesn't generally care who cuts across Inuzuka lands, so long as they don't disturb the dogs. Iruka has chased Naruto through Inuzuka forests on multiple occasions, and never heard a peep. There's no reason for her to take an issue with it all of a sudden, and if she did it this wouldn't be the place to do it. Surely she's not…

Iruka glances at Kiba, the boy grins a truly feral grin. He sips his coffee and resigns himself to even more chaos than usual.

•••

Friendship has been good for Naruto. His days are fuller, his laughter is realer, his grades are better. For Inoka, who knows how this went the first time, the difference is night and day.

Friendship doesn't fix everything though. It doesn't fix a parentless parent-teacher conference. Inoka can't go with him, has no claim to the kid beyond being the cousin of a friend, but she can at least distract him while the rest of his class is busy at the academy. 

So while Shikami palpably worries about their little friend from his shift patrolling the wall, Inoka heads to the academy. 

She'd been kinda hoping to run into Sasuke while she was here, but the kid bolts for the Uchiha compound the moment class ends, and she's hardly going to chase him down. It's a shame, she knows this can't be an easy day for him either. She'd been hoping if she could get the boys to train together, they might bond a little, or at least bicker enough to forget about their exclusion for a bit. 

She's coming from a mission desk shift, heading around the side of the academy towards the tree with the swing where Naruto can usually be found, when she spots another problem.

There, down the side of the school where no parents are watching, Neji Hyuga is bodily shoving his cousin to the ground.

Before Inoka has time to consider whether she wants to engage with the Hyuga clan politics, or the raw trauma that powers genin Neji, she's reacting instinctively to someone attacking one of her people. 

She puts herself between the kids, glaring daggers at Neji. “what do you think you're doing? ” She snarls.

“It-it's okay, Inoka-san. I'm not hurt.”

“And this doesn't concern you.” Inoka reigns in her temper as much as she can, forces herself to remember exactly why Neji is so difficult at this age, and finds she still has a lot to say about all of this.

“It is absolutely not okay. Leaving aside that she could have been seriously injured, she is a child. You are a shinobi attacking a civilian.” He's a child too, at least physically. But Neji is a genin, and legally genin are adults.

Neji scoffs, “she's hardly a civilian.”

“Hinata is an academy student. I don't care what your clan hangups are, kid, she’s the definition of a civilian. You could be court marshalled. You could lose your rank.” He gets paler and paler as she speaks, eyes wide and breathing shallow by the time she finishes. Inoka hates to scare Neji like that, Neji who was the first loss their generation suffered. Neji who was always, even when he was at his worst, so incredibly brave.

But the thing is, she's not wrong. She's not even exaggerating. It's a miracle nobody reported him the first time he was pushing around an academy kid, a miracle made possible by Hiashi's neglect for his daughter. It's not something Inoka can count on happening twice. And as much as Neji may resent his fate right now, it would destroy him to be discharged. He wants to be someone Hizashi would be proud of almost as badly as he wants to be free.

“You ca-can't say anything, please Inoka-san. I'm okay, and you can't report Neji-niisan just because I'm too…too weak to protect myself. That's n-not fair.” There's a tiny flash of surprise in the genin's already wide eyes at the defence.

Inoka sighs, crouching down beside Hinata, still sitting on the ground and close to tears. She runs a diagnostic jutsu idly, heals scraped palms and bruised knees as she talks. “If you were any other child, would this be acceptable?”

“But I-I'm not–”

“Hinata-chan. Would it be acceptable?”

“N-no, but–”

“If Neji-kun pushed Hanabi, would that be acceptable?”

“No, Inoka-san.”

“Right. And Neji-kun?” she turns to look at the genin, still rooted to the spot and nearly hyperventilating. Yeah, Inoka is never getting that expression out of her nightmares, but she shoves it down for the moment.

“Yes, Yamanaka-san?” He whispers.

“If any other shinobi pushed Hinata, would that be acceptable behaviour?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Inoka-san–” Hinata tries again.

“Okay, so here's what's going to happen,” she pushes up out of her crouch, and pulls Hinata up with her. Poor thing is shaking, and Inoka knows it's a necessary lesson, she knows it, but she's going to look back on this and only remember how much she scared already skittish kids. “This is never going to happen again, you hear me?” Neji nods. “Good. Never again. And you're going to apologise, for injuring a civilian. Does that sound fair?”

“Very fair, ma’am.” He nods several times quickly. Inoka feels like the worst person alive.

“Neji-niisan you d-don't have to apologise.”

“Yes you absolutely do,” Inoka corrects. “Hinata-chan, drawing this out by protesting is not helpful. I'm sure there are complicated clan dynamics I don't understand. That's Hyuga business. But he needs to apologise, if for no other reason than because it's protocol.” Hinata nods, eyes trained on the ground.

“I'm sorry for harming you, Hinata-sama,” Neji bows.

“I…um…accept your apology.”

“Good, then. That's that done. Hinata-chan, why don't you double check your time slot?” Hinata swallows hard, glances between the two of them, and with a nod from Neji she heads around the side of the building.

“I have shamed the Konoha creed, Yamanaka-san,” he says stiffly. “I will expect news on my formal consequences.” She knows he's serious, she knows a version of who he could be so well that she can catalogue every micro-expression. This twelve-year-old fully expects her to write him up for pushing his cousin.

“I don't think you're a bad kid, Neji-kun, everyone loses their temper. But you're expected to be better than that, that's why you have this,” she taps her hitai ate. “I'm not going to report any infraction, but other people would, okay? This cannot happen if you want to have a career as a shinobi.”

“Because I'm fated to protect her,” He murmurs, nudging the grass with his toe.

“Because it's not acceptable to take out your anger on those weaker than you. Because civilians can't feel safe if they start seeing shinobi as a threat, and if they don't feel safe then we're failing. And…more practically, they pay our bills.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Neji nods. “I have to go with Hinata-sama, ma'am. I'm standing in as her guardian.” Inoka is not touching that information with a ten foot pole. It would be setting a bad example to tell the kid off and then bare-knuckle box his uncle. Instead, the chunin nods her dismissal. 

Neji sketches a bow to her and hurries off after his cousin.

She lets the Hyuga get out of her sight before she continues towards the front of the academy, trying not to run into them again.

The courtyard has mostly cleared out, a couple of families still milling about around the door. 

Mercifully, the Hyuga kids seem to have headed inside, but Naruto is there. A burst of bright orange and blonde is sitting on the tree swing, kicking his feet and staring up into the leaves above him. He doesn't look as she approaches, doesn't seem to notice at all, just keeps staring into the leaves, bottom lip quivering a tiny bit.

“Why don't we skip training?” She asks it as gently as possible, but he still jumps violently. “Go get some ramen instead?”

“You sure, Inoka-san?” Naruto asks, all sunshine smiles again the moment he knows she's watching. “I don't wanna fall behind.”

“Nobody else is training tonight. We deserve a night off too.” Naruto hops off the swing, dragging her towards Ichiraku.

“You're paying, right?” Inoka laughs. Sometimes this Naruto is exactly like her grown version.

“Sure thing, Naruto-kun. Sorry I'm late.”

“S'all right. You're, like, super busy all the time. I thought maybe you were gonna be too busy to come.”

“I said I'd be here.”

“I know, but sometimes Jiji says we're gonna do something but then he gets busy and stuff.” He's dimmed a little, smile just as wide but half as genuine.

“I'll never just not show up, Naruto-kun.” Naruto nods even as he shrugs. “Hey, listen to me. This is important.” She puts an arm around his shoulders and squeezes until he has to stand on one foot to keep his balance. 

Naruto giggles, honestly giggles , and sounds so incredibly young for the space of a second. Not like an almost graduate, not like someone who will be a soldier this time next year. “This is important, Naruto-kun. If I say I'll come, I will always come for you. I promise. Always, okay?” Naruto nods, leaning in a little more. “Okay?”

“Okay, Inoka-nee.”

Chapter Text

 Iruka stares at his notes in disbelief. Joining the promise of a meticulously researched complaint from the Nara, and the credible account of trespassing on clan lands from the Inuzuka, are a dozen more complaints about Mizuki. He called Shino creepy, Ino nosy, Choji stupid. All grave insults to their respective clans – especially against the heirs . He took a weapon pouch from Ami and never returned it. He constantly belittles Sakura, telling her she'll never be anything more than a genin corps paper ninja. The last one, Iruka has caught happening once, Mizuki refusing to correct her taijutsu form when she asked because she ‘won't need it behind a desk’.

Separately, all of it can be written off as a bad day, or solved with a slap on the wrist. Together? It's got the makings of a solid case, especially with all the adults riled up.

The final nail in the coffin, though, comes in an unexpectedly timid package.

Hinata is Iruka's last conference of the night, and knocks so softly he almost misses it. 

“Come in?” Iruka asks, wondering if he imagined the sound. Sure enough though, Hinata enters and perches on one of his chairs. Her cousin, Hyuga Neji, stands behind the chair. “I gather your father won't be joining us.” Funny, he managed to get to Hanabi’s when Hinata was the heir.

“Oh, um…no, sensei. He's very busy.”

“Of course. Well, it's nice of you to stand in for him, Neji-kun.” Unlikely he had any say in the matter, but it costs nothing to be kind. Neji flinches a tiny bit, Hinata keeps her eyes trained on the floor. Oops, obviously Iruka's missed something. “Now, Hinata, you're exemplary in theoretical grades, as always. You're just barely behind Sakura for top of class this term, which is even more impressive than usual. You've been working hard.” 

“Yes, sensei,” she says, ducking her head to hide her blush. Neji looks surprised by this news. He's not terribly fond of Hinata, from what Iruka remembers of keeping the two apart during recess. Maybe he doesn't know how clever and determined his little cousin is. If he's getting his information from Hiashi, he probably thinks she's useless. 

“Your practical skills are also improving, especially your ranged weapons. You've got the makings of a markswoman if you keep at it, which is a great balance for the Hyuga taijutsu style. I'm confident you'll be able to graduate with your class at this pace.” Hinata glows at the praise, Neji nods approvingly. “Do you have any questions or concerns you wanted to bring up with me?” He's not really expecting anything. Hinata's been involved in the conspiracy, he's sure, as all of the clan heirs have, but she's not one for avoidable confrontation.

“I…actually, sensei, I d-did have a concern to raise.”

“All right, I'm all ears.” He lifts his pen to jot down whatever it is. It'll be Mizuki, of course, it's all been Mizuki tonight. Even completely uninvolved students like Ami are reading the writing on the wall and taking the opportunity to snitch. But what is serious enough that Hinata would bring it up, hating attention as she does?

“N-now I'm aware, Iruka-sensei, th-that the Hyuga seal is something of an open secret within shinobi circles.” Neji grips the back of the chair with white knuckles, back ramrod straight. “How…however, I do not think that is an excuse for M-Mizuki-sensei to be discussing it around other students. Certainly not…hold on a moment p-please. Sakura-chan wrote it…wrote it down so I could remember the wording.” 

This isn't the performance of the other kids, still sincere but with the hint of mischief that comes with things going to plan. This is dead serious, and there's real, fresh hurt in her eyes.

She swallows hard, unfolding a neatly creased piece of torn out notebook paper. Reading over her shoulder, Neji goes white as a sheet.

“He said what ?” The elder Hyuga hisses.

“He…he asked me when I would be g-getting my seal. Since I am no longer the Hyuga heiress. Mizuki-sensei r-r…recommended I do so quickly, since I am helpless to defend my…myself.” She sets the paper on the desk, pressing it flat.

“That scum said…how dare –” Neji is shaking all over, Hinata is terribly still. Slowly, inch by inch, she reaches up to pat one of his hands. “He looked you in the eyes and…I cannot believe– Hinata-sama why didn't you tell me?”

“N-now insult aside, Sensei, he was fairly quiet. But…but as I said, Sakura-chan heard well enough to write down, and probably others. Th-the seal is clan business, not…not to be mentioned in c-casual conversation.” This bit, if nothing else about the situation, feels like the political manoeuvring the other pre-genin were playing at. Iruka can't help but think Hinata would have been an incredible clan leader in time.

“Insult aside? Absolutely not ‘insult aside’, action will be taken about this, correct?” Neji would know better than Iruka how the Hyuga seal is usually addressed in a classroom. He's had one most of his life, and the only Hyuga Iruka has ever taught was the clan heir until last week.

Still, the teacher knows enough to know it's a slap across the face to not only the Hyuga clan as a whole, but also every branch member individually.

“It will be dealt with swiftly,” Iruka promises, keeping his voice stubbornly level. “You will not be put in a classroom with that man again.” Hinata nods, hand still resting on her cousin's – a tiny plea for support from a place she rarely gets it. Neji doesn’t move away, though. Iruka wonders if the boy had realised before this moment that Hinata will eventually end up with the same seal he bears, now that she's not the heiress.

The kids will have their victory, Mizuki won't make it to Monday after that stunt. It comes at the expense of clan secrets, though, secrets he can't imagine the former heiress wants to explain to her friends. Secrets she wouldn't have to explain, if she hadn't made the incident public to hold Mizuki accountable. He hopes it's worth it to Hinata. Hopes the others recognize what she's done for their cause.

•••

He's ashamed to say he has been caving. Shimura Danzo is a powerful man, with powerful connections and the ability to open a lot of doors that orphans – even clan orphans – would never get anywhere near without his help. When he sent his people around, then came around himself, to talk to Fuu about his little ‘training program’ it was admittedly a tempting offer. The kid is smart, hardworking, undoubtedly talented, he could go far with someone like that at his back. It wasn't, however, tempting enough for Inoichi to agree to no contact. He'd thanked Danzo for his offer and politely declined. Several times. 

He just kept coming, and there came a point where Inoichi was becoming hard-pressed to refuse. He was caving. Not happily, not willingly, but he was running out of good arguments. 

Once Inoka came home and explained exactly how heinous it all was, how ‘good’ his arguments were became considerably less important. Inoichi dug his heels in, threw his weight around, and outright refused to let Fuu go anywhere near it. No matter what the councilman said. No matter how prestigious an honour he made it sound. 

It helped that he knew Shikaku and Choza had his back on this no matter what. They always do, really, but even a life-long brotherhood doesn't prevent disagreements. If they weren't in the know, if all three of them didn't understand the full stakes, he'd be hard pressed to explain why one of his orphans being chosen for an elite program was worth refusing at the risk of causing a political incident. Luckily they are, and they do, and they're all in agreement that nobody's going anywhere near any of their orphans. 

The Uchiha fell in part because they lacked allies, willingly separated themselves from anyone who might have stood against their further isolation. He still feels now that he should have done more for them, should have paid closer attention. At the end of the day, though, the Uchiha were a founding family. A proud people who never accepted help from anyone if they could help it. The sort of people who organise a coup before they even try to appeal to the other clans. 

The Hyuga are the same way, could fall the same way if they anger the wrong powers.Something to keep Inoichi up at night sometime, not that he's hurting for nightmare fuel these days. 

The point is, the Yamanaka are far from isolated. They have the Nara and the Akimichi, of course, but also decades of history with the Aburame, the Shiranui, the Inuzuka. They're well like in the community, and have bonds with civilians through the florists and the gardeners. Inoichi himself sits on the commerce council, and is dinner party friends with several prominent civilian merchants. 

The Yamanaka, the Nara, and the Akimichi may not be founding clans, but they have a more communal sort of power, woven right into the fabric of Konoha life.

Inoichi isn't naive enough to believe they couldn't be wiped out, Inoka's shown him exactly how possible it is, for the Yamanaka to be reduced to a single member. If they were though, it wouldn't be quiet, or understandable. If some little Yamanaka prodigy snapped, it would raise suspicion, there would be cries for further investigation. 

He doesn't think Danzo will risk that, not for one orphan boy Inoichi cares about far more than he ever will. So Fuu didn't go. Inoichi passed polite and was toeing the line of civility. He asked why, exactly, the councilman was so convinced Yamanaka childrearing and the public academy was inferior to his program. He was asked, in turn, when the Yamanaka adopted a policy of isolationism. This received a laugh and an offer to discuss those particular concerns in front of the full council, because Inoichi is not and has never pretended to be Uchiha Fugaku. He's more than willing to lean on his allies, he's not too proud to work with others.

Danzo did not bring it up at either of the last two full councils and he finally, finally stopped coming around to bother Fuu. Inoichi called it a job well done, sort of assumed nothing would ever have come of it anyway, and put it out of his head.

It all comes screaming back, though, when Inoka walks into the main house after whatever she'd been doing with Naruto during parent-teacher conferences, and stops dead in the doorframe. Just for a breath, just a stutter step of hesitation. Nothing of note, but enough for Inoichi to see, and Yuna, and Ino. 

The other kids don't notice, haven't met Inoka to spot the difference. The three school-aged Yamanaka orphans are still chattering around the table, Fuu shoving Ino playfully when she doesn't respond to his joke quickly enough in her study of her older self. His youngest dismisses the moment, turning back to wrinkle her nose.

They do this every year, have their whole lives. The orphans have a home, of course, have a matron who looks after them and loves them and keeps them safe, and is here with them now. But all the other kids end up at the main house with their parents every so often, and the orphans deserve the head family's ear as much as anyone. So once a semester, they all trek back to the main house and have a celebratory dinner. 

None of this should ring as strange for Inoka, she grew up in this house. If anything, she's used to there being more of them. There were so many after the war, most having far outgrown the academy by now. His understanding is there were more again after the invasion looming in their future. So it's not surprise at the event. Or the noise, or their number. Which leaves the only person in the room Inoka won't look at.

Inoichi had mostly convinced himself nothing would have come of it, that surely he wouldn't have let a man he already had reservations about take one if his clan's kids. No matter how tied his hands were, he'd told himself he wouldn't have gotten away with that. Inoka's eyes say otherwise, though, the way they skate over Fuu – not willing to either look right at him or let him out of her sight.

She turns the hesitation into a lean, smiling a forced smile at the gathering, refuses to meet Inoichi's eyes, then turns and walks back out the door. Like she just forgot something, and it just occurred to her. Like her chakra signature didn't vanish completely the moment she exited the building.

Yuna catches his eye, nodding towards the door. He nods, standing.

“Who was that?” Fuu asks.

“Inoka-nee,” Frowns Ino. “Is she okay, tou-san?” Inoichi pats each of the kids on the heads as he heads out of the room, kissing his wife on the cheek and exchanging a smile with the matron. 

“I think she was just a little overwhelmed, Clover. Something you're not to bring up unless she does.”

“Duh, I'm not stupid.”

“I dunno–”

“ However , I'm going to go check on her. Sorry to leave dinner early.” He half-hears friendly goodbyes, slipping on his sandals and already running through potential hiding spots.

Inoichi makes a list of the mostly likely places, and knows without a doubt that if Inoka doesn't want to be found, he won't find her.

•••

Inoka traces her father's chakra as it bounces from the Hokage monument to training ground 18, then 6 where team 10 will practise come next year, then T&I, and the memorial stone, and gets halfway to the cloudwatching hill in the Nara forest before it bumps into Shikami's and heads back to the Yamanaka compound. All told he's out there for the better part of an hour, and she feels bad but she also can't face him right now, with every breath a gasp and tiny Fuu's laughing face an after image with each blink.

Shika lands softly on the roof of the academy, settling slowly beside where she's sprawled like a starfish in an effort to force air into her lungs. He's still in full uniform, having run into Inoichi on his way in from wall patrol. He doesn't say a word, just leans back on one hand and smokes in silent support.

It helps, more than it probably should, just to have him within reach. Even the smoking helps, though she'll never tell him that. The smell in the air, down to the specific brand, will always be associated in her head with two of the few people she has ever completely and utterly trusted. It's grounding, and she's almost convinced she's not dying a miserable death by the time she croaks out.

“I shouldn't have given back that lighter. You smoke more than ever.” Not true on either count. There were times after Asuma's death that Shikamaru smoked a pack a day. She must really be looking rough, because Shikami neither laughs nor snarks back, just rests his free hand on her arm as he leans.

“You wanna talk about it? I put up a decent barrier.” Minimal concern about eavesdroppers, then.

“Saw Fuu.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“He was laughing. Laughing , Shika. Alive, and not ROOT. and I knew he'd be fine, knew Inoichi would figure it out. And I know he's fine. He's fine, and we have to keep an eye on Torune but he's fine too for now. They're not trapped in that place. That fucking torture program. But Sai is, Shikamaru. Sai…and, and his brother is still alive. And they're…it's. We're not…what if–?”

“breathe. Breathe. Hey, I know. I know. We'll get him out. We'll get them all out.”

“What if we don't? What if…things are changing. Things are changing. I didn't say anything about Fuu. I didn't…and, and Anko! Anko got hurt and that might not have happened. And–”

“Are you… upset that Fuu isn't ROOT?”

“Oh fuck you, Shikamaru. Aren't you supposed to be mister probability?” Even her venom is softer than it should be, the little outburst leaving her heaving for breath. “Of course I'm not…of course it's good. But…what if?”

“What if the future is changing?”

“What if it's changing for the worse?” She pushes herself up enough to lean her back against his, covering both of their blind spots. He's shaking, almost trembling, and the nicotine doesn't seem to be helping.

“How much worse could it really go?” Shikami's laugh is broken and reedy, less a laugh than a whine.

“Bad patrol?” Ino murmurs, leaning her head back on his shoulder to look at the stars. Her breathing is coming steadier, with her brother at her back.

“Just keep feeling like I'm missing something.” She knows the feeling. “Naruto okay?”

“Sad. He was worried I wouldn't show, but he's all right now.”

“Good. Good, that's…there's something going better.” He nods to himself, sagging against her a little. “He'll be okay, you know, Sai. He survived last time. We'll get him out, him and his brother. And all the other kids. Danzo's powerful but he's not invincible. We'll find Tsunade, get her to take charge. Or we'll go get them ourselves. We can bring Tenzo along. They'll be fine. They'll all be fine.”

She's not sure if he's trying harder to convince her or himself. Still, she nods, because he's trying and emotions have never been his area. Nor hers, not really. The intellectual side, the psychology of it all, sure. Inoka's studied it like any other Yamanaka, perfected her knowledge like a good mednin, but she's never been much of an empath. She's good with advice, worse with comfort. That had been fine, Shika could predict the enemy and Ino could diagnose the problem, and of they needed to fully understand someone they had –

“I miss Choji.”

Shikami doesn't stiffen, doesn't so much as draw a surprised breath. They've lived out of each other's heads for too long to be surprised by a train of thought, and they're both achingly aware of their missing piece. 

“They're never gonna know what this feels like.” The Nara promises the skyline. 

“Never.”

•••

Something is wrong in Kamui. He went there once a couple of weeks ago, and hasn't been back since. It's a problem, there are things stored there he needs and trips through it he should take, but he hasn't been back.

In that one brief trip, he was almost overwhelmed by the voices. Impossible voices, the dead and the living who couldn't possibly know about him. His own voice and other beings entirely. They washed over him, whispering lies about Rin and Kakashi, about faults in his plan that are not – can't be – true.

He's spent plenty of time there over the years, meditating on his losses and dreams and plans, but never before has his own realm whispered treason in his ears.

It must be a trick, one of his experimental genjutsu turned back on itself, or even a trap from Kakashi if he's managed to find it by now. Surely he has. He was always supposed to be the genius. 

The point is, it's a trap or an illusion. Nothing to put stock in, certainly nothing true because if it were true then…but it's not. It's all lies, Kakashi's way of keeping people out of the sub-dimension in his head that he doesn't know he shares.

Either way, the lying whispers are something to be wary of. Until he figures out how to make them stop lying to him – how to make them go away – Obito won't be going back to Kamui. Something's clearly wrong there.

Chapter Text

“How do you feel about mini muffins?” Iruka asks Shikami, sliding onto the bench across from him and not bothering to greet the rest of the table. Kakashi exchanges a glance with Inoka, Anko, and Kurenai and watches three of the four giggliest adults he knows try not to break.

“Sorry?”

“As in you feel sorry for mini muffins?”

“As in ‘I'm sorry I have no idea how we got on this topic.’”

“Kiba aced a history quiz. Naruto has two of the academy three mastered. Half my class spent recess today meditating. Meditating , Shikami-kun.”

Sage knows he needs all the good behaviour he can get right now. Mizuki being gone is great, but in the chaos of finding a replacement with no hangups against civilian-born students, Naruto, or any of the clans has proven depressingly hard. Kakashi hasn't seen hide nor hair of the teacher outside of academy walls in the over a week since the conferences. As far as he's heard, neither has anyone else.

“oh, good.” Shikami pauses a beat, and when Iruka makes no attempt to move off of the topic he shuts it down himself. “I don't need muffins, thanks. How's the search for a new assistant going?”

“Why, are you interested?” Shikami snorts, slouching fully back against the padded booth and shaking his head slowly. 

“Not in your wildest and most precious dreams, Iruka-kun.” He leans his head on the top of the booth and closes his eyes. “Not for the Daimyo's fortune would I so much as consider corralling those little terrors that early in the morning.”

It's always a little jarring when he acts like a Nara, because it makes his normal behaviour so odd in contrast. Kakashi can count on one hand the times he's seen another Nara get half as tense as Shikami is at rest, or a quarter as fidgety, and only ever in life or death situations. It's not in their clan culture, or their upbringing, and he knows for a fact Nara training emphasises staying relaxed in order to stay focused.

It was a comforting quirk, a couple weeks ago when Kakashi had very little proof the man wasn't a spy. No spy in their right mind would act like that and then claim to be a Nara. And Shikaku wouldn't believe it if he wasn't already certain he knew him personally.

Now, though, almost a month out with the dust settled around the surprising return of the pair, it's disquieting to say the least. If Shikami is the loyal Konoha chunin he claims to be – and Kakashi is as certain of that loyalty as he ever gets about most of this village, given how he interacts with the kids – then either his time in Mist was bad enough to overwrite years of ingrained lessons and training, or he's constantly acting like he's in incredible danger. 

Neither option is…great, to say the least. 

While Kakashi's the last one with any right to judge on the topic of mental health, he does try to keep an eye on his people (especially after what happened to Shisui and Itachi). Somehow, he's started including Shikami and Inoka in that group in record time, and they are definitely not okay.

It's not something to bring up now, though, not in one of the rare glimpses of Shikami actually relaxing, so he just waves a lazy wave at the fourth giggliest person he knows, and slides down to make room for Genma.

Inoka's in the process of lobbying for her own basket of mini muffins, which Kakashi is sure Iruka would love to buy for her if any of the women could get through to pitch without laughing. 

It's a quiet night at the Bingo Book, only a handful of groups including theirs, and much of their usual group is absent. Gai's back on a C-rank with his genin, Asuma's making a courier trip to the Daimyo's court, Ibiki's working the night shift, and Hayate and Yugao are having date night. Tenzo, Raidou, and Iwashi are officially off, but with the ANBU crew it's not hard to guess why they might not be present. Still, he's got a mission coming up with Raidou in a couple of days, so they can't have gone far. As shinobi life goes, Kakashi has less reason to worry than usual.

He zones back in when Genma catches his eye, nodding to the apparently dozing Shikami. Kakashi's got a lot of experience faking sleep, and he's fairly certain the Nara is as alert as ever. He just shrugs and mouths ‘Nara’.

At the same time, three of the village's top kunoichi are arguing about the best kind of muffin, and Iruka seems to be losing the battle to stay impartial. Genma's as antsy about abnormal behaviour as Kakashi is, as all of the former team Ro is after the way one of their own snapped. But, he just raises an eyebrow and lets the matter drop, a show of trust Kakashi's never sure he's earned. The tokujo loudly chimes in in defence of carrot muffins, which drives the argument to yet higher levels.

Anko throws a coaster at Genma, a little disk of cork spinning through the air with the force of a shuriken, and he deflects it instinctually. The coaster goes flying directly at Shikami's face, hitting flat against his forehead. 

Nobody breathes for a second, four of them too shocked while Inoka seems almost dangerously gleeful. The Nara peels his eyes half open – he didn't so much as startle at the impact, as good as confirming that he was never really asleep. Shikami’s probably trying to look bored, but it comes off closer to a predator considering prey. Inoka, entirely unphased, loses the fight not to laugh and point at the red mark in the middle of his forehead.

“Ino,” Shikami growls. She shakes he head, wheezing and pointing at Genma. Genma, in turn, immediately points at Anko, who throws her hands up in surrender. 

“I was aiming for Genma.”

Shikami shrugs, still looking deeply unimpressed with Inoka. “You sound like a hyena.” She kicks him under the table. 

“You act like a sloth.” What they're acting like is toddlers. 

“Hag.”

“Slacker.” Kakashi would intervene but they're both sort of smiling as they spit back and forth at each other, so he settles for just glancing at the speaker of each barb. Shikami oinks like a pig and his sister flies halfway across the booth at him before Iruka pulls her back with the reflexes of a very tired teacher. Both spin on him, mouths open, but nothing comes out. 

The bickering stutters to a halt as Ino sips her drink and Shika leans back to shut his eyes. Kurenai, Anko, and Iruka are different shades of baffled. Kakashi shares a look with Genma that confirms he's seeing the same thing as the copy-nin. 

Kurenai, Asuma, and Raidou were a sickeningly well adjusted genin team. Team Orochimaru, for all it ended in disaster, got along well when it existed. He doesn't know a lot about Iruka's genin team, but given how hard the Mizuki business hit him they must have gotten along in their time as a unit. Not surprising, then, that the three can't make sense of what just happened.

Kakashi and Genma, on the other hand, come from deeply dysfunctional genin teams and can't unsee it if they want to. That frozen second when the pair looked at Iruka, they were expecting someone else to break up the fight. There's where the absence is felt. There's the space the missing third filled – a peacemaker. A Gai, a Rin. 

Kakashi hates being right.

•••

For all that her fangirling never amounted to anything, Inoka did spend a significant portion of her childhood watching, and thinking about, and theorising over Sasuke. Now, granted, nearly every conclusion she drew at the time was wrong, but with the benefit of hindsight, she actually knows a great deal about the kid. Certainly more than Shikami does.

So when Shika suggests that they use the last week or so they have left of medically enforced vacation to try and get through to him, she laughs in his face. 

Inoka’s a little more comfortable in her skin, with Mizuki out on his ass and nowhere near the kids she cares about both for who they will become and for who they are now, and she can see the same little measure of relaxation in Shikami. As such, she’s more than happy to make fun of her teammate’s complete misread of the situation. It’s a rare and treasured event, when Shika’s well and truly wrong. And it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it might, with their first hurdle cleared and a tiny blow dealt to Orochimaru in the discrediting of his lackey. So she laughs, and he scowls, and it feels almost like old times.

Like Sasuke would accept an offer of help. Oh, Ino can’t exactly fault the thought process – not with the way the other kids have turned to them like flowers towards the sun with just a tiny bit of attention given – but she’s also certain it won’t work in this case.

People have been approaching Sasuke constantly since the massacre, first to express sympathies (both genuine and utterly hollow), then with offers of support. Sasuke’s time as an orphan has been much the opposite of Naruto’s, but the number of people who’ve actually given a damn about them is nearly identical. Heap on top of that the beliefs Itachi instilled about needing to be strong and self-sufficient, and there’s no way approaching him first will be taken as anything other than an attempt to ingratiate themselves to the last Uchiha. Which means a lot of trying to engineer a happenstance meeting like she had the night of the conferences last week, and a lot of hoping he seeks them out on their own. It will be one thing once team seven forms, and they can bully Kakashi into training them properly, but for the moment Inoka’s just waiting him out. 

Sasuke has never stood for being anything but the best, and with their extra lessons the rest of the class is catching him quickly. She’s been expecting progress on that front for a week, since the first term grades put not only Sakura ahead of him in theoretical, but Hinata as well, and Naruto chasing him in practical.

Inoka had assumed, though, that when he made his move he would go to her Nara counterpart, or maybe seek someone else out entirely. So it’s with some measure of surprise that she notices his heat-lightning-igniting-dry-brush chakra signature trailing over the rooftops behind her when she leaves the Bingo Book at nearly midnight.

She’s barely buzzed, drunker on the contentment of a quiet night with friends than the alcohol, but she takes her time meandering towards the Yamanaka compound, giving the kid time to make his move. She wonders if he sat outside the bar for the hours she was inside, or if he just happened to be passing by as she headed home. She wonders what kind of peacetime it is, that an orphan can be so unaccounted for that nobody notices him wandering the streets at midnight. 

Sasuke does a passable job of tailing her, not good enough to fool even a particularly careful genin, but better than any of his classmates could do. He doesn’t seem to notice she’s leading him towards the more isolated training fields behind the compound, rather than heading into it like should be expected. Or, if he does notice, he doesn’t react with the suspicion he should. Pride’s always been his downfall.

She makes a loop around to the front of the compound and is most of the way back to the field before the boy reaches the end of his tether and drops down from his tree, clutching a kunai in one hand. Sensible enough, to be wary of the woman who’s clearly toying with him. Less sensible if he is – as she assumes, knowing Sasuke – acting out of anger rather than caution.

“You’re leading me in circles,” he accuses, getting closer than he really should to someone stronger that he doesn’t trust. Cocky, but what was she expecting? Inoka keeps on her path towards the fields, since this will more than likely end in violence anyways. 

“You’re following me in circles,” she reminds dryly, “you’re welcome to stop.”

“What’s your problem?” What a little charmer. She can appreciate the bluntness, if nothing else.

“Well, there’s a toddler following me, for one.” kindness will do her no favours here. No, Sasuke will only react to kindness with suspicion, at least as he is now. It had taken their Sasuke years of Naruto's stubborn friendship to trust any small measure of kindness, though she's hoping they can get through to the younger pre-Orochimaru version faster. For the moment, she just dodges the kunai he throws. Feral little thing. “Now there's a toddler throwing a tantrum.”

“I am not a toddler.”

“Exactly what a toddler would say,” she grins sharply. “Now, then, Uchiha Sasuke-kun, how can I help you?”

“You can stop bugging my classmates, for a start,” he growls. An interesting angle, one that might work better on a more insecure person, but he can't know her well enough to know that.

“Like you care about your classmates,” she retorts. When he was older, her version of Sasuke always reminded her of an abused dog – snapping and snarling, dangerous and constantly terrified. This younger one, though, without his teeth and claws, better resembles a kicked puppy. Oh he's angry, but not nearly as angry as he got, and he's not so good at hiding the fear. Inoka would very much like to scoop up this little, shaking child, and wrap him in blankets. Tell him she's got him, that someone's finally willing to keep him safe again. But it won't work, and if she tries not he'll never speak to her again. So she lets him snap and snarl, and gives as good as she gets. 

“What do you know?”

“I know you're not much for working with others. I know you're mad that the others are catching your grades. I know Naruto has a tendency to gloat. What I don't know is what you're hoping to find, here? I'm not going to stop training your classmates because you prefer them unmotivated and unthreatening. Neither is Shikami.”

“That's not fair.”

“That's life, kid.” he gets right up in her face over that, which is infinitely better than shouting back and forth across a field, and also exactly what she was aiming for. 

He aims a punch for her throat. Vicious little survivor, she wishes it didn't relieve her so much that at least one member of what will become the rookie nine can defend himself. The reasons for his hypervigilance aren't worth the protection

She grabs the arm, dodging and flipping him flat on his back. While he's momentarily winded, she crouches down beside him. “What do you want, Sasuke-kun?”

He growls, springing to his feet and planting them in a passable ready stance. Inoka straightens, waiting for him to move. From inside the compound, Inoichi pulses his chakra at her, a little beat of concern. She pulses back a short sequence, their shorthand ‘all clear’ she's had memorised since the moment she could manipulate chakra.

Sasuke feigns left, darting to the right and sweeping a low kick. Inoka hops it neatly. “You're telegraphing your movements.”

“shut up .”

“Tell me what you want, then.” He rushes at her, no finesse to his movements, just frustration and maybe a hint of rage. “You didn't wait around all night to convince me not to train your classmates. What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” Of course she does, but this relationship can't start on the presumption that he can get whatever he wants, whenever he wants. It's not that Sasuke is spoiled, per se, more that very few people care enough to tell him no.

“Nope. Guess you'll have to tell me.”

There's no answer. She hops around the field, keeping her distance and dodging but mostly letting the kid run his course until he gets tired. It takes the better part of an hour, but eventually he's panting and slow, and only then does she ask again.

“What can I do for you, kid?”

“Stop helping them!” He nearly shouts, voice laced with rage.

“No.”

“Then help me.” and there's a hint, just a tiny edge of desperation, that makes her ache for everything life has thrown at him – everything still yet to come. 

Ino wasn't particularly fond of her Sasuke, by the end, not with all the ways he hurt her people. But she'd always had sympathy for how he ended up so broken. For who he never had the chance to grow in, for the lost little boy who's here now, she'll do anything she can to help. Of course she will.

“Yeah, okay.”

“You're helping– okay?”

“What do you need help with?”

“What?”

“You want help, do you have somewhere you want to start? Obviously you can already tree walk.”

“You're… just like that? I just spent an hour – are you crazy?”

“Nope, psych just cleared me for field duty this morning. Yesterday morning, now. So, ninjutsu, taijutsu, Shikami's really better with kenjutsu, but I'm sure he'd be willing to help.”

Sasuke shrugs, looking as uncertain as he ever looks. “Well…you're a half-decent mednin, right?” Inoka is a highly trained interrogator, with over a decade of intelligence work under her belt, and so she doesn't startle when Sasuke of all people asks her to teach him to heal . Because she doesn't startle, she doesn't miss the quick glance the Uchiha gives his hands. And because she sees the glance, she remembers another quiet midnight moment.

They were far drunker than she is now, and the end of the world was just starting to feel real. She and Sasuke were never a regular patrol pair (or drinking pair, for that matter), but they'd gotten off of a particularly tough shift and ended up tipsy enough for secrets to slip out, in the ruins of the Yamanaka compound. She told him she understood the ache, the way being the last of a clan sits in your bones. He'd told her he still dreamed of his mother's blood soaking his hands as he tried to stem the flow, when he got to sleep at all. 

“I am.” She doesn't deign to comment on the ‘half-decent’ part. “You want me to teach you?”

“Don't tell anyone,  or anything. I don't want them thinking I'm going to help them or anything. I just figured…you can use medical ninjutsu on yourself, right?”

“Sure can.”

“Then I should know, so I don't have to trust any of them to do it .” So he's never unprepared again. They can work on the ‘trusting his classmates’ thing, first she needs to gain his trust herself. She holds out a hand, and he shakes it solemnly. 

“Not at night, though. You need a full night's sleep.”

“Pretty sure you have other people looking for you after school.” He scowls.

“Early mornings, an hour before school at ground eighteen, when I'm not on mission.”

“Fine.”

“Good. Go home, Sasuke-kun, it's a school night.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But you'd better not be late tomorrow.”

“Hn.” He launches himself towards the closest tree, heading in the direction of the Uchiha compound. 

Sasuke, a mednin. Isn't that a thought? Hopefully, if nothing else, it brings him some peace. Helps keep team seven safe. Besides, his bedside manor can't be worse than Tsunade’s.

Chapter Text

Kakashi is tired and sore, just coming off of his mission with Raidou and Yugao, when half a dozen pre-genin ambush him in the hallway of his building.

Along with the trio Shikami had mentioned, Ino-Shika-Cho has evidently decided this is also their business and tagged along. Serves Kakashi right, getting off a mission around when school gets out. 

He blinks once slowly, hoping they’re some sort of mirage, but they’re still there when he opens his eyes. Casting a glance down at still blood-spattered clothes, a glance which at least half of the kids clock immediately, he heaves a sigh and opens the door, nodding towards the apartment with as much disinterest as he can muster, the jonin finally addresses the group, “Better come in I suppose.”

He summons Pakkun as he enters. “Babysit Inoka and Shikami's brats while I shower. Don't let them break anything.” With that said, Kakashi heads into the apartment, lowering his wards long enough to let the kids in before snapping them back up. No sense in leaving the pre-genin defenseless, Iruka will kill him if the brats get so much as a paper cut while they're here.

“Hey, wait, you gonna tell us about Uzushio or not? Shikami-san said to come here.” Kakashi doubts the Nara gave them his address, but the sentiment is the same. He's a passionate kid, Naruto. The jonin's seen it enough, but he's never actually been on the receiving end. It's a lot like facing Kushina when she had her mind set on something. Kakashi flees the memory, putting a door between himself and the sunshine child.

In the main room, Pakkun's talking Naruto down with promises of explanation, with the Akimichi heir agreeing they should at least let him change out of his mission gear. He always knew he liked Choji. Kakashi turns on the shower and lets the water drown the pack out.

With the blood washed off and a couple minutes to just breathe and pretend he was alone in the apartment, Kakashi feels almost human enough to deal with the kids. Not their questions, but at least the little future ninjas themselves.

He returns to the main room in a spare uniform to find Pakkun teaching the Inuzuka ninken how to open doors with his paws while Kiba gives encouragement, Choji is distributing tea, and the other four are staring shamelessly at him. Terrifying little brats.

“All right,” best to get on with this. The kids gather around like he's doing story time or something. Choji brings him a cup of tea as he settles down, and Kakashi is torn between being thrown by the child that's just rooted around in his cupboard, and charmed by what may be the only emotionally perceptive kid in the group. 

The pre-genin have a little too much trust in their eyes for his liking, too much to be healthy from what will be ninja in less than a year, and he wonders if they've done any research at all.

“What do you know about Uzushio? Anything?”

Shikamaru's scowl pretty resolutely expresses his opinions on it being removed from the curriculum – and Sage, Kakashi wonders if Shikaku has noticed how much his kid is picking up from Shikami, lately – but shakes his head. Lazy, it may not be taught in schools, but there’s still some reference to the event in the libraries they have access to, and more about the village in general.

To Kakashi's surprise, while Ino-Shika-Cho clearly haven't done their research, the same cannot be said about the other three. Naruto produces a library book, thin and faded, waving it at him.

“We found this.”

“Shino found it,” Kiba admits. 

“Right, Shino found it. It says that a whole hidden village got wiped out, right here,” he flips the book open, jabbing a chapter titled ‘Uzushio massacre’. “And that's fine,” Naruto frowns, pausing over his words in a way Kakashi has never seen from the little chatterbox. “Well obviously it's not fine.”

“It's horrible.” Kiba emphasises.

“A tragedy,” Shino agrees softly.

“ But ,” Naruto continues, seeming to have figured out what he's trying to say. Nice, despite the circumstances, that he feels comfortable enough for the modicum of weakness necessary to correct himself in front of classmates. “But Shikami-nii said it was a lesson to Konoha. Nothing in here about Konoha at all. And we couldn't find anything else.”

“And we do not believe we missed anything. Why? Because we searched the whole library.”

“It took forever, Hatake-san,” Kiba flops back on his floor, tea finished. “Like, seriously forever, and we didn't find anything more detailed than this one.” Which sounds about right. 

Shikamaru, meanwhile, looks distinctly put out by having less information than the others, but frowns thoughtfully and starts flipping through Naruto's book.

“So you came here,” Kakashi concludes. “Because Shikami and Inoka, who you've known less than a month, told you to go to a strange jonin's apartment?” Not that Kakashi really doubts the miracle chunin, but it's good to instill healthy suspicion in kids, right? Judging by Pakkun's scowl he doesn't seem to think so. 

“And you let us in because those same two people, who you've known the same amount of time, sent us?” Ino snarks right back. Inoka must be happy; she doesn't need to worry about that one standing up for herself.

“Can't argue with–”

“We're not in here,” Shikamaru cuts in, passing the book to Choji to watch Kakashi. The copy-nin is hit with the full calculating force of eyes too intelligent for their age. Spooky kid, too smart for his own good. Still, he'll be glad to be on his side as a shinobi. Better than having to face him, certainly.

“Course we're not, it was way before we were born.”

“What Kiba said. Plus, why would we be in the history book when we're not even super cool shinobi yet?” Naruto looks to Shikamaru like he might be able to clarify, but the Nara heir's eyes are still trained on Kakashi.

“I think he means Konoha, boys, not us specifically.” Ino frowns, leaning over her future teammate’s shoulder to read.

“We're in the overview,” Choji says slowly, “long history of cooperation, robust trade relations, their princess married the Shodaime.”

“The first major alliance between hidden villages, we're in here a lot, Shikamaru.” Ino points out a couple such instances. 

Pakkun, seeing he's not really needed for this, has gone back to trying to teach Akamaru. Kakashi himself seems to be serving as little more than a sounding board for the kids to figure it out on their own, but he figures they'll need someone to confirm their theories eventually. Besides, it's not the best conversation to be having out in public, where Danzo's hyper-patriotic idiots could overhear.

Now that he thinks about it, that might be part of why they were sent his way in the first place. 

If so, it's a lot of trust from Shikami – and from Inoka, Kakashi's not under the illusion that there are any secrets between those two – to send them here. Given that Shikami uncovered several S-class secrets in his first twenty-four hours back in the village, and how quickly Inoka had clocked the Mizuki issue, Kakashi feels fairly confident they know at least something of the dark corners of Konoha. It's sort of touching that they assume he's not part of the problem. Misplaced, or it would have been a few years ago, but the copy-nin has chosen his side by now.

Kakashi's focus snaps back to the conversation at hand when Shikamaru speaks. “We're in the overview, we're in the background, Konoha was apparently inseparably tied to this village we've hardly heard of. But…” Shikamaru shakes his head, scanning the page again

“But not the tragedy, we're not even a footnote,” Ino murmurs.

“Why?” Shino asks, and gives no answer.

Kakashi sips his tea, and takes a long, calming breath. “Because when Uzushio was attacked, Konoha didn't come to their aid.” Shikamaru finally breaks his gaze.

The kids are struck dumb for a stretching moment, and Pakkun plops down at Naruto's feet in a show of comfort. Extra liver for him tonight.

“Why?” The question comes from Naruto this time.

“A lot of reasons,” Kakashi answers carefully, trying to be gentle with the kids despite negligible experience being gentle with anyone. “The attack was a surprise, for one, we didn't know until it was beginning. But…” they came to him , they're asking him for the truth. More than that, people Kakashi trusts to be far better with kids think he's the man for the job. He could just feed them platitudes, the party line that it was an unavoidable tragedy, but they're asking for the truth. Should he…?

“That's one reason,” prods Choji, watching him far too knowingly. 

Kakashi's nearly certain his sharingan is going to land him with Naruto and the last Uchiha out of this particular graduating class, which he'd been dreading until now. Now, he'll take the pair at each other's throats over the savvy, united front of Ino-Shika-Cho acting like they can read his mind.

For the moment, though, they want their answers.

Well, Iruka hasn't yelled at him in a while, so really he's overdue for a bad decision. “I hadn't been born, so I don't know, not for absolute certain.”

“But?”

“But, according to my sensei –” according to Kushina, technically “ – we were still recovering from the second war, we couldn't afford to spark a new one.”

“So we left them to die ?” Naruto growls and just for a flash of a second, Kakashi swears he sees a flash of orange in the boy's eyes, before Pakkun nudges his knee and insists on pets, and they go back to normal. Extra liver and one of the special occasion bones.

“The thought was that they were strong enough to hold their own. But yes, we left them to die, Naruto.”

“Oh.” He sounds so incredibly small, and the others crowd just a little closer in a way that tells Kakashi that if nothing else, they already figured out the significance of the Uzumaki name.

“That's the lesson Shikami-san was talking about,” Kiba whispers into the heavy silence. “Keep your word.”

“Never abandon your friends,” Kakashi corrects softly, because even if Kiba's got the right of it as far as the village is concerned, Kakashi needs them to remember a more important one. “You could lose them forever.”

•••

The third time Naruto and Kiba blow up at each other, Shikami calls the practice off for the day. The pair are hotheads, always will be, and certainly get on each other's nerves even on a good day, but this is different. For one thing, Naruto has been the first one to blow up every time. For another, Kiba has been the first one to back down from each scuffle, looking almost guilty.

“All right, I think that's about enough of that,” he says, letting go of the pair once the screaming has stopped. “Let's try again when everyone's in a better mindset.”

Kiba shrugs, shrinking into his hoodie and not meeting anyone's eyes. He backs away into the little cluster of boys, half-hiding behind the taller forms of Shikamaru and Shino.

Naruto does not react so calmly, protesting before he even releases his shoulder. “No fair, Shikami-san! We can keep going!” None of the others says anything, but Choji and Kiba are both half nodding.

“No. We're done, somebody is going to get hurt this way.”

“What, you don't trust us or something?” Naruto growls, fists balling up. In the back of his mind Shika recognizes that it's a sign of trust that Naruto is lashing out, but it doesn't exactly feel like one.

“I trust you, but your head isn't in it. That's how mistakes get made. Distractions cause injuries.”

“I'm not distracted!” Naruto insists. When Shikami only raises an eyebrow in response, Naruto rushes him. He dodges easily, which only enrages the kid more.

“That's enough, Naruto. We're done.”

“I'm not done!”

“We're finished.” Shikami keeps his voice forcibly relaxed, calm and open and understanding just like Choji always tried to coach. He must be doing it wrong, because it doesn't work at all. Naruto literally growls.

“I can keep going.”

“We'll try again another day.”

“That's not good enough!” Shikami catches the boy's wrists before they can connect, but one flailing leg makes contact with his weak knee and sends a jolt through the Nara's system that is just enough to shake his steel control.

“ Enough, Naruto! ” He barks, all the commander, a tone forged in the apocalypse that should never see the light of day anywhere else.

None of the boys so much as breathe, eyes wide and straight spines shaking. Naruto's hands unclench, and he nods slowly, body otherwise frozen in a grip that's not tight enough to hurt  – always gentle with these fragile, precious people, even at his worst he couldn't bear to hurt them – but unyielding nonetheless. 

“It's enough for today,” Shikami barely whispers, watching a spot a little over the boy's head to avoid those scared eyes. “Everyone is clearly a bit too worked up, so I'm ending practice.”

“Okay, Shikami-san.” Naruto murmurs, taking a step back when he's finally released. The boys file away, Choji bumping his shoulder into him in a tiny, purposeful, moment of forgiveness as Kiba calls a soft ‘bye, Shikami-san!’ Over his shoulder. 

Shikami sinks down to the ground, shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes until the light is blocked out completely, and stays like that until time loses meaning.

•••

“Shikami-san?” Asks a hesitant whisper, interrupting his spiralling. Has he been there the whole time? 

Forcing a deep breath, Shikami nods. “I…um…I'm really sorry I attacked you.”

“I know.” The Nara still doesn't look up. 

“You're really nice, Shikami-san, and you help a whole bunch, and you never ignore me, and I don't wanna – I didn't mean to – please don't –”

“I'm not angry, Naruto-kun,” Shikami murmurs, glancing up even though it feels like pulling teeth. “And I'm not going to disappear on you. I just lost my cool, I'm sorry.”

“S'my fault.”

“Of course it's not your fault. I'm supposed to be better than that, I'm an adult and a shinobi.”

“But I –” Naruto's keeping his composure admirably, but there's a fear in his eyes that cuts the teenage orphan in Shikami to the bone. He starts to reach out to the little jinchuriki, stops, settles for sort of nodding towards himself in a vague invitation for comfort.

He's certain the whole time he's doing it that he's got this whole comforting thing wrong, and it's a disaster, and it's definitely making this whole mess worse, until a flying orange body hits him and starts shaking.

“I'm really sorry.” Naruto murmurs into his flak vest.

“Me too, kiddo. Me too. I never, ever want to scare you like that.” They sit like that for a while, Naruto bundled in the time traveller's arms while he shakes through his panic. 

“D'ya hate me”

“Never.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart. I could never hate you.” Shikami pauses, then figures he might as well try. “You wanna tell me what's going on with you today?”

“It's stupid.”

“I really doubt that.”

“It is, Shikami-san, I'm just being a stupid asshole.” Shikami ignores an impulse to ask he watch his language, which has taken root like a parasite the more he hangs around these kids.

“Well you're not stupid, Naruto-kun, and you're not an asshole, and none of your friends are either and they seem to think it's a big deal.”

“They're gonna be mad I got practice cancelled.”

“Shino doesn't get angry easily, and the other three never mind a bit of time to slack off.”

“Still–”

“No ‘still’, your friends have been nothing but patient with whatever's going on today. Trust them.” Naruto nods, burying his face in Shikami's shoulder.

“I get it now.”

“What's that?”

“You were really mad.” Shikami nods, starting to apologise again, but Naruto keeps going. “at Ichiraku, when Iruka-sensei said we didn't learn…learn about Uzushio you were…” Ah, okay, Shikami understands the situation perfectly.

“You talked to Kakashi.”

“He wasn't even upset about it or anything, Shikami-san, why'd you send me to that guy instead of telling me when he doesn't even–even care ?” That's certainly not true, but Kakashi does tend to shut down a bit when big emotions are present. Well, won't do to have a member of team seven resenting Kakashi before the team even forms.

Shikami scoops Naruto up as he stands, setting the blonde back on his feet. “Come on, I want to show you something.” They're not too far, anyway.

•••

Genma is almost certain that when he entered the compound he wasn't planning to stay for dinner – or for more than a few minutes to drop off a package from Inoichi on his way home – but here he is, prepping herbs in sensei's kitchen. How does this keep happening?

Used to be, all three of them got dragged into Akimichi dinner at least a couple times a month, chopping produce and monitoring stock while the clan's best cooks whipped up enough hearty meals for any family who might be around the clan's big shared meal hall that night.

These days between Gai having a genin team of his own, Ebisu's Honorable Grandson rangling, and Genma’s… specialisation keeping him busy, it's been a while since any of them has made it to dinner, let alone all three.

For a while, it's just Genma and Choza in their little corner of the kitchen, working in companionable quiet while a handful of others work at the stoves along the other wall or chat quietly as they roll silverwear on the far side. Eventually though, young voices filter in from the the hall, headed toward them.

“They're done awfully early,” Choza sensei frowns. Genma doesn't particularly recognise the voices, though he does hear a dog. “Hello boys, good day?” The expected forms of Choji and Shikamaru tromp through the door, accompanied by a couple of clan kids Genma doesn't know. An Inuzuka and an Aburame, from the looks of it. 

They don't seem to be having a good day. Choji shrugs, the Inuzuka kid scuffs his toe against the tile.

“No Naruto?” Choza tries, when nobody answers. 

“Doubt it,” Shikamaru grumbles. “Shikami yelled at him, he was still frozen or whatever when we left.”

“Never seen him so quiet,” Choji adds.

“ Shikami yelled at him?” Genma blurts out before fully processing the rest. Granted, he doesn't know the Nara half of the pair as well as the Yamanaka, but everyone who's been near the mission desk in the last couple weeks has heard exactly how effectively Shikami can make a point without losing his temper. What did Naruto do ?

“He did. Why? Because Naruto provoked him with repeated physical violence.” Says the pocket thesaurus in the high collar. That makes a bit more sense, but still doesn't quite sound like Shikami.

“He was being stupid anyway,” says the Inuzuka. “Cancelling practice just because Naruto is in a bad mood when the rest of us were fine.”

“You're blaming Naruto for being in a bad mood, seriously ?” Demands Choji, as confrontational as Genma's ever seen him.

“What? No, of course I'm not. I mean, obviously Naruto's right to be pissed, but that doesn't mean we should all miss practice over it.”

“I was excited for that genjutsu trick,” Choji admits, glancing away.

“Whatever, nobody's saying it's Naruto's fault,” Shikamaru cuts in before Choji can spiral into self-doubt. “Shikami didn't need to snap like that, like he can't handle an attack from a pre-genin. ”

“Hana-nee says he's pretty much jonin level.” ‘Pretty much’ is actually underselling what Genma understands is one of the stronger ninja in the whole village at the moment, but he focuses on striping the rosemary and pointedly doesn't tell the kids exactly why someone who's seen war might overreact to a child's attack. ‘Child soldier’ is a vague concept to these kids, but Genma was a chunin by their age.

Separate a stalk, pull the leaves from the stem, mince, repeat.

“Exactly, so why couldn't he just calm down and get back to the point?” Ungrateful little – Genma's hand is clenched around the knife, but he forces it to relax. 

Rosemary leaves are tough, mince them small enough to compensate.

“That’s about enough of that, Shikamaru.” Choza-sensei says firmly, before Genma can lose his own temper and drive the knife through the cutting board.

Sweep the prepared herb to the side, separate a new stalk from the bunch. Pull off the leaves.

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever, he's taking the time to teach you, to help you improve while he's supposed to be resting, and you're repaying that by complaining about him behind his back.”

“He's only helping because he's bored, and trapped in the village, and he can't sit still.” 

Genma puts a little too much force behind the knife and gouges the board a little. Breathes, re-centers humself. Rosemary leaves are tough. Mince small to compensate. 

“Your cousin has been through hell, Shikamaru.” Sensei's voice is hard, scolding in a way that was reserved for when he and Ebisu were on their absolute worst behavior. The severity sooths Genma's frayed nerves a tiny bit. “Been through hell and came out the other side, and rather than taking well-earned time to recover from that, he's spending it helping you .”

“I'm just saying he didn't need to snap, Choza-jii. Naruto's having a bad day and he made him feel worse. At least if we kept practicing–” As Shikamaru continues to argue, Genma slowly pushes the last of the rosemary into the pile and carefully sets down the knife.

“If you kept practicing–”

“Genma.” the tokujo pushes right past his sensei's warning.

“If you kept practicing, one of you would have gotten hurt. That's what happens, when you're distracted in training, you land a friend in the hospital. Better than being distracted in the field, where you land a friend in a coffin. You are a child, you are being protected. That does not mean that nothing can go wrong, or that you can afford not to trust the people around you, or that you aren't vulnerable. But you have no idea what war is. You don't understand why Shikami might snap when an ally catches him off guard, and thank the Sage for that. But quit talking shit about him for keeping you safe, and smarten the fuck up.” Genma shoves his hands in his pockets to hide the shaking, and keeps his breathing carefully flat, ignoring how tight his chest is.

He gets half a step into fleeing before Choza drags him back to his spot in front of the cutting board like he's still an unruly genin.

The Nara heir is watching him like a hawk, eyes darting between his face and his hidden hands with a little too much understanding for a pre-genin. 

“You don't pull punches.” He doesn't seem particularly upset. If anything, the pre-genin appear to have calmed down, more contemplative than irritated.

“Not exactly my specialty.” the boys share a round of quick glances. Genma, feeling a little cornered, glances at Choza. The Akimichi clan head raises one eyebrow in an expression Genma has provoked enough times to confidently translate it to ‘you did this, it's your problem now’.

“Why did he snap, Genma-san?” The question ultimately comes from Choji, but all four boys are watching closely for the answer. Genma has split the majority of his career between dragging secrets out of people and making sure they take their knowledge to the grave, so it's strange and refreshing to have these kids ask a complicated question and expect a straight answer. He spins a senbon between idle fingers.

“No poisons in my kitchen,” Choza says absently.

“Don't go all Ebisu on me, old man, and it's completely clean.” His sensei just snorts and shakes his head. “Why did he snap, Choji-kun? Because generally a surprise attack means you retaliate or you die. And no matter how easily Shikami can handle the threat of Naruto, all it takes is a tiny miscalculation of force and he hurts someone he's trying to protect. Inoka and Shikami are, by all accounts, kind, careful people. But they’ve been in a kill-or-be-killed situation for a long time, those instincts are hard to suppress. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” the Aburame kid agrees slowly. “it makes sense because Shikami-san makes light of most things, but is very serious and focused during practice.”

“Man, that's a drag, I hate being wrong,” Shikamaru groans, “can't he just be an asshole once in a while?”

“If it makes you feel better, he called Inoka a hyena just for laughing while he was napping last week.”

“That does make me feel better, actually.”

“All right, if everyone's feeling a little calmer?” The boys nod, the ninken barks. “Out of my kitchen, then, Choji. Take your friends and get started on your homework.”

“Yes, tou-san,” The Akimichi heads for the door, the still unnamed pair following closely in the unfamiliar compound, while Shikamaru finds time to whine.

“ Homework ? Can't we help with prep or something?”

“Absolutely not, homework. Go on, Shika, march.” The Nara continues to grumble but obediently files out behind his friends.

Genma returns to his work, rough-chopping thyme while his sensei peels potatoes. Choza is clearly sorting through something, picking his words carefully, and Genma has no reason to rush him.

“You know them well?”

“The miracle chunin?”

“Is that what they're calling them?”

“Twelve years in Mist, forgotten fresh chunin with no mentor. Can you say it's not a miracle they came back?” Choza smiles a strained smile. “I know them better than most people, I imagine, so do Iruka, Kakashi, Anko.”

“Good. That's good. Good shinobi with big hearts, you lot.”

“Thanks,” Genma deflects away from the praise as quickly as possible “Why are you asking? Something I can help with, sensei?”

“Help with?” Choza pauses, considering, but ultimately shakes his head. “Nothing you're not already doing. Just… you always were my toughest kid. I know the sort of things you saw in the war, I know what this village still asks of you. You've seen more than your fair share of horrors, Gen.”

“I have.”

“Those two have lived horrors like even you can't imagine.”

“Which I'm sure you can't tell me about.”

“Wouldn't, even if it weren't classified. Don't you go pushing about it, either, I don't know if they'll ever be ready to tell some of those stories.” For half a second, the T&I gremlin in Genma's brain rebels, but he squashes it with prejudice. Choza knows, which means at minimum Shikaku and Inoichi know. That's good enough.

“Okay, sensei, no poking soft spots, I promise.” He probably wouldn't have anyway, he's too fond of Inoka either way, and Shikami is documented to poke back. 

“Thank you.” The Akimichi clan leader is quiet for a moment, then adds. “Just…just be gentle with them, if you can. If they'll let you. They're good kids. Great shinobi, heroes and miracles of the Leaf and all that. But they're good , your sort of good, Gai's sort of good –”

“Ebisu's sort of good, given the thing at the missions desk.” Choza huff a laugh in response and nods.

“Exactly. All I'm trying to ask is that you give them some grace, and I know you are already. Clearly, I mean you just said as much to the boys, but they deserve good things. They've lost too much, Gen.”

“I could tell.”

“Of course you could, you were always good at reading people.”

“I'll keep an eye out for them, help them settle in however I can.”

“Thank you, Genma.”

“Happy to do it.”

Chapter Text

Training ground twenty-five. Iruka hadn't been exaggerating the extent of the damage. 

Jagged lines of scorched earth stretch the length of the field, pocked with craters and lined with the blackened husks of lightning-struck trees. It's doubly unpleasant for Shikami, who sees echoes of Kaguya's apocalypse in the devastation, but he can't imagine it's particularly pleasant for anyone. 

Doing some quick math, if they took Uzushio out of the curriculum just before Naruto started at the academy, then Kakashi was maybe eighteen? Eighteen, meaning he was freshly out of ROOT, believing he was a traitor to the village, completely isolated from his friends, at the height of his ‘friend-killer Kakashi’ reputation? Eighteen, potentially the lowest point of his life that didn't result from the death of a loved one?

Yeah, okay, that's more or less understandable.

The space is unoccupied at the moment, so Shikami leads Naruto to a crater near the middle and sits down across from him.

“Shikami-san?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you bring me to a war zone?” Shikami snorts.

“It's not a war zone, this is training ground twenty-five.” Naruto perks up a little. “We're still not doing any more training today.” The kid frowns a little but nod. 

“Then why're we here?”

“Used to be, this was a perfectly normal training ground, like the ones we usually book. Now it only gets used for terrain drills, for obvious reasons.”

“Oh, weird,” Naruto says slowly, glancing around a crater big enough to fit at least the rest of their normal training group, if not the better part of his class. “What…happened to it?”

“Kakashi ‘happened to it’.”

“What?”

“ Kakashi ‘happened to it’, when he found out they were taking Uzushio out of the curriculum and he couldn't stop it.” Naruto is quiet at that, standing to get a better look at the destruction.

“That doesn't make sense.”

“Why's that?” Shikami has a pretty good idea, but it never hurts to be sure.

“He…he didn't even flinch, Shikami-san.” What does it say about their year that Naruto was considered one of the most emotionally intelligent ones? “When he talked about the massacre, about leaving the people of Uzushio to die. We read all the books, Shikami-san, that was…my family was there. He knew that and he still looked right at me and didn’t even flinch.”

“Come here, kiddo.” Shikami waits for Naruto to sit back down, and puts a hand on each shoulder. “You're a smart kid, and you haven't had an easy life. You know there's a lot of nasty shit in this world, don't you?”

“‘Course I do.”

“What happens, if you run into that in the field? Do you think it goes well if you break down, or freeze, or even flinch?”

“Guess not.”

“One of the first things you learn in combat is how to work through the pain. Kakashi is one of the best shinobi in the city, probably the single best, honestly. I trust him with my life, and I promise you, he cares.”

“Sure didn’t show it,” Naruto grumbles.

“You know, I bet you he did, if you know how to look for it. But Kakashi doesn’t spend a lot of time with kids, and he tends to shut down rather than blow up – at least when other people are around.”

“I don’t know about this, Shikami-san. I know he’s your friend and all, but you’re really strong and you don’t shut down.” Shikami takes a moment to collect his thoughts. This isn’t the best time to be having this conversation, Naruto’s usually more open-minded than this but he’s already wound up today. Also it’s really testing Shikami’s near-pathological need to not show weakness.

“I do shut down, just not where you can see me. When I need to, I just put a lot of effort in to make sure you lot can still read me. Kakashi’s never been great at that, from what I understand. I sometimes blow up in public, like what happened today, and I almost always reserve that sort of shutting down for when I’m alone. Tensing up like that makes me slow, slow gets you dead. Kakashi’s the opposite, shuts down so he can focus, then does things like destroy a training ground beyond repair when he’s alone. Neither way is better, they’re just different.”

“Guess that makes sense. ‘S that mean I would blow up in public, then? Cause I get mad really easy.” He does, always has and probably always will. By the end, Shikami only saw Naruto go truly, worryingly quiet once, when Sasuke died. He probably shut down when they lost Iruka, but nobody could find him in the aftermath, so Shikami can’t be sure. He probably shut down when Sakura died, but Shikami doesn’t remember much about the days after they lost Sakura and Choji beyond the agonizing grief.

In his inability to explain any part of that, Shikami shrugs. “Maybe. Everyone’s different, Naruto-kun, that’s my point. You won’t know until you’re in it, not for sure, but it’s a dangerous game to assume someone doesn’t care just because they don’t show it the same way you do.” Naruto nods, chewing on his lip as he looks thoughtfully over the training grounds.

“He did seem nice enough, I guess. He was kinda awkward, but he let us in and let us ask a bunch of questions.”

“He wouldn’t have let you in at all if he didn’t want to help, I promise you that. He doesn’t usually like people in his space.” Naruto nods again, staring right through a patch of grass he’d been studying. “Naruto? You okay?”

“We really left them to die,” he murmurs. “Is that why people hate me, Shikami-nii, am I a reminder?” Shikami’s heart shatters and he would do truly anything for Inoka to be having this conversation. The kid needs a hug, and she’s so much better at hugs. And comfort. And talking to people.

“Maybe to some people,” the Nara admits, matching the boy’s volume and wrapping one awkward arm around him. He must do an adequate job, because Naruto leans in a little. “Not to me, not to Inoka, or Iruka, or any of your friends.”

“I think, maybe to Kakashi-san.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He said, well, Kiba said, well…anyway, Kakashi-san said the lesson to learn from Uzushio was to never abandon your friends, but he was staring right at me, so if you’re saying he cares – and I believe you, since it kinda does make sense, since his dog was super nice and all– then I thought maybe it’s because I’m an Uzumaki and he felt guilty or something?” 

Ah, well it’s hard to say who Naruto reminded Kakashi’s guilt complex of most in that moment. Obito, with the goggles and the unstoppable drive? Minato, with the same face and the same sunshine-y disposition? Maybe Kushina, given the subject matter. Whichever way he looks at it, Naruto’s not precisely wrong, but Shikami also knows Kakashi sees the actual person past his ghosts.

“I don’t know that that was about you at all, kiddo, Kakashi’s lost a lot of people. Lost his whole team before you were old enough to talk. You could’ve reminded him of any of them, or he could’ve been looking right through you. Doesn’t mean you’re just a reminder to him, only that it was a hard conversation for him to have and it probably brought up some ghosts.”

“Is being an adult nothing but watching all your friends die or something? Cause it kinda sounds like it.” In Shikami's experience, pretty much.

“No, lots of adults grow old with all their friends.” not lots of shinobi, but plenty of civilians seem to manage to live into retirement with their social-circles mostly intact.

“But Kakashi-san had to lose a whole bunch? That’s not fair.” there’s a spark of an older Naruto in his eyes, when he says that. A hint of the man who ripped the fabric of time for the chance his friends might survive in a version of the world he’d never see.

“War’s not fair, Naruto-kun. You just survive, and keep moving, and hold tight to the people it lets you keep.” Shikami heaves a sigh, pushing himself to his feet and dragging the little Uzumaki up with him. “Enough of the doom and gloom for today, let’s go find some food.”

“Okay.”

“Great, what are we in the mood for? Don’t say ramen.”

“Ramen.”

“You drive a hard bargain, ramen it is.” Naruto laughs, usual cheer warming his features as they leave the disaster area behind, though a thread of sober contemplation remains. Poor kid’s had a trying week. 

“Shikami-nii?” he doesn’t comment on the honorific, irrationally afraid that Naruto might stop if he knows he’s doing it. That show of care, of trust, eases something in Shikami’s chest that’s been aching since he scared the boys during training (that’s always aching a little, for long-dead friends who never even existed in this timeline).

“Yeah?”

“Don’t die, okay?” An impossible request, one nobody who’s ever seen combat would make. In short months this optimistic child will be deemed old enough to fight and to die, and he’ll begin to learn exactly how hard the world is on kind people. For now, though, Shikami just ruffles blond hair and savours the squawk of protest he receives in return.

“I’ll do my best.”

•••

By the end of the first week of morning training, it's clear that Sasuke has less-than-pure intentions about this whole mednin thing. Oh, he's interested enough in the biology of it, especially universal weaknesses, and he's committed to his chakra control, but anything to do with actually healing others and he's out.

This is not terribly surprising to Inoka, having had time to think on it more fully, and it doesn't deter her in the slightest. If the kid wanted regular training, she would have given him that, too. If he wants to learn to heal, regardless of his current motivations, she'll do it for the memory of a tormented man with the phantom blood on his hands, if nothing else.

As it is, she's more than happy to shove first aid at him along with the pressure points and major arteries that catch his attention. He'll survive, and grow stronger, and when she finds a way to convince him to work with his classmates, they'll all be safer for another mednin in the group. In the meantime, she teaches Sasuke a dozen new ways he could die, and how to stop them, and hopes that if it comes to it he's listened enough to apply his knowledge to others.

They’re taking a break from the directly mednin training to work on his chakra control this morning. Sasuke is standing on the shallows of the training ground three, trying to stand steady on the water while Inoka pelts him with rocks.

He's having…mixed results. Sasuke’s chakra control is fine , but it's on the low end for mednin and he's been ignoring her repeated recommendations that he meditate. If she had to guess, he's having trouble wrapping his head around having to actually work at something that comes easily to someone he considers useless like Sakura.

Hopefully, repeatedly soaking himself up to his knees in the freezing early-May waters will change his stance on the matter. The pre-genin looks so miserable she'd probably feel sorry for him if it wasn't entirely his own fault. If he would just focus on anything that didn't have immediate and obvious results, they could be doing something else.

Sasuke’s an optimistic three minutes from his next frustration-motivated murder attempt when Iwashi appears. Well, ANBU Lynx appears, technically, but she generally knows who's behind a given mask.

“ANBU-san, how can I help you?”

“Don't ignore me,” growls a voice behind her. Inoka continues ignoring Sasuke regardless.

“Summons for you, Yamanaka-san,” he passes over two scrolls.

“Hokage-sama wants to meet with you at your earliest availability.” Inoka glances at the scroll, neatly side-stepping a shuriken. Relatively tame as far as Sasuke lashing out goes. Lynx's hand twitches towards his standard-issue ANBU tanto. Ino just glances up long enough to raise an eyebrow, then unfurls the first scroll, a certification of unconditional field clearance. 

Vacation over. Finally .

“Survival tip, Sasuke-kun, don't attack ANBU.”

“I didn't.” He's probably aiming for haughty, but his teeth are chattering.

“Get out of the water before you catch your death, don't talk back to me when I'm giving good advice, and practice your meditation before our next meeting or we'll repeat this exercise in much deeper water.” She scolds without looking up. The second scroll is a C-rank escort mission to the Land of Frost. Standard mission, but bordering on a B-rank because of Frost's proximity to Lightning. A simple mission with a balance of skill requirements, to test out their abilities.

“Are you escorting me to the office, ANBU-san?” Inoka rolls the scrolls back up and gathers her gear.

“Not officially, but we're headed the same direction.”

“Then lead the way.”

“Don't walk away from me, you Hag.” Inoka waves.

“Gonna be out of the village for a bit, meditate. I'll know if you don't.”

“Hn.”

“I'll know,” she sing-songs, following Lynx towards the Hokage tower. “Practice is the only path towards improvement, Sasuke-kun. Have a good day, I'll find you when I get back.” The final ‘Hn’ is mostly lost in her rush to catch Iwashi, but she gets the message all the same.

“He's a ray of sunshine.” 

“He's a complicated kid.”

“He attack you often?” This question, rather than the meaningless banter of the first comment, is a request for important information. Is one of our recruits a danger to future teammates? Is he unstable, prone to fits of violence? 

Memories flicker through her head, of Kakashi stopping the full force of a chidori before it could hit Naruto. Of Sakura sobbing on a park bench. Of Karin, impaled on the sword of a man she trusted.

Technically, the answer to Iwashi’s question is yes. 

It's tempting, momentarily, to raise the alarm, get the kid banned from active duty before he can start hurting her people.

She dismisses the thought with extreme prejudice. This Sasuke is just a ball of grief and pain, and he's sort of one of her people already. He doesn't deserve the full weight of her protective instinct levelled against him. So Inoka tells a half-truth.

“Not seriously.” This is her lie, because if she knows Sasuke at all, he doesn't pull punches.

“Looked pretty serious about it.”

“He knows I'm competent enough to avoid the attack, so going after me is an outlet for his frustration without any real stakes.” This sentiment, at least, is largely true. She doubts he would know what to do with himself if he actually hurt someone, not at eleven. By thirteen her Sasuke would have finished her off without blinking, but not quite yet.

“Psychoanalysis of a pre-genin. I'd expect nothing less from a Yamanaka.” Lynx seems at least slightly placated by this argument, so she counts it good enough for the moment. 

Conversation peters of as they enter the tower, meeting up with Shikami and crane-masked Yugao outside of the office.

“Enter!” Calls the Hokage, and the ANBU pair disappear now that their work is done. Time to find out the details.

•••

ANBU, the most specialised, highest trained order of shinobi in the village. An appointment with a lifetime tenure, where even those few who officially retire before the job can kill them never really leave. 

Hana’s been working towards it since she was a kid, since the first time she held Kiba and understood exactly how worthy it was to live her life to protect people. She’s learned a lot more about the gritty reality since then, of course, the worst parts of the job and the lengths ANBU go to to keep this village safe. She’s sat next to a boy at the academy every day who she thought understood her need to protect her brother better than anyone, and who turned out to be a monster. She’s learned the job now, and she never lost sight of the point the way Itachi did.

One thing she did not learn before entering the ranks is that the ANBU are the worst gossips in the village.

“That woman terrifies me.” Lynx says as he and Crane enter the ANBU standby station. “Pure ice running through her veins. Who sidesteps a shuriken and doesn't even stop reading?”

“She is remarkably unshakeable, Hayate said she was composed from the moment she walked through the gate.” Crane – who Hana is now tentatively labelling Uzuki Yugao between the hair and the connection to Gekko Hayate– agrees, leaning against the wall and picking at a flake of dried blood on her nail. 

Hana is positive that other people made it through her training group, has seen them once or twice in the couple weeks since her initiation, and that there are presumably other lower-ranked members around here somewhere, and yet somehow she’s the only one in the station. 

Instead she’s surrounded by captains and veterans and specialists, with no sign of another regular person – regular by ANBU standards at least. This is a good thing, she tells herself it’s a good thing, because she wants to be the best of the best, and these people are the best of the best. She could learn a lot from them, or something.

Except she’s not learning anything from them here, where they’re relaxing and waiting for a summons. So really she’s just sitting awkwardly in the corner with the Haimarus asleep at her feet, watching a group of people who know exactly who she is as they socialise, while only vaguely knowing any of their identities. Awesome. Great, really. This is potentially some sort of torture training.

Hana could almost wish for a mission, except she’s been back in the village less than twenty-four hours, and Viper – confidently Mitarashi Anko, after three days together – sets the pace incredibly fast. Come to think of it, that was probably a test of some sort too. She knows people tend to find Anko…unsettling, but Hana actually found her refreshingly blunt to work with, and she’s certainly competent enough. Competent, and an absolute taskmaster.

Nothing to be done about it, then. She focuses on trying to confirm identities, a task she was at least prepared for in advance. ANBU don’t give information freely, so if she wants to know who she’s talking to she’ll have to sort it out on her own. Information gathering practice, officially. Hazing, unofficially, but harmless hazing that her superiors seem to be enjoying. Well, all but one.

“Who’re we throwing shuriken at?” Asks Genma, flopped half-asleep on the couch with the Jackal mask supporting a bowl of chips beside him. “Can I come?”

“Yamanaka Inoka.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Never mind, then,” the captain backpedals quickly. “She returns fire.”

“And you won't survive another coaster incident if Shikami gets caught in the crossfire,” Yugao (?) points out.

“How did you possibly know about that?”

“Who attacked her in the first place?” Cat – Tenzo, not hard to identify the only living mokuton user – asks from the door to the kitchenette, mask tipped up enough to sip his tea. “Bold, she's not to be underestimated.”

“The Uchiha kid.”

“What'd he get jealous that they were helping his classmates?” Genma asks.

Lynx snorts, “guess so, given they were training when I got there.”

“Not like the miracle pair have been stingy with their help while on leave.”

“Not on leave anymore, just delivered mission scrolls.” Oh, Kiba will be disappointed. “And ‘help’ might be a stretch on this one, she was pelting him with rocks.” Genma laughs, always living up to the Jackal name. “Move your feet, stop hogging the sofa.”

“Can’t. Stretching out my back, new mednin in T&I says I have terrible posture.”

“I’ll make it worse if you don’t move,” drawls Lynx – no way he’s Might Gai, but definitely close-ish with Genma – the poisons expert sits up, making just enough room for Lynx to wedge in. “You’re insufferable.” Ebisu, maybe?

“Ah, but you continue to suffer me.”

“Since when do you care what the T&I mednin say, anyway? They never last the month.”

“This one will.” if it’s who Hana thinks, Genma’s probably right. Inoka doesn’t strike her as a quitter.

“Someone’s got a crush.”

“Yeah, obviously,” says Viper, emerging from the shower room with still-damp hair. She glances around the room, takes in each face and mask, and pulls her own mask off to reveal Mitarashi Anko. Nice to know Hana’s not entirely off-base in her guesses. “He’s mooning, where have you been the last month?”

“I am not mooning, ” Genma growls, sitting up to better glare at Anko.

“He’s mooning,” She repeats, raising her eyebrows meaningfully at Lynx. “It’s embarrassing to watch.”

“Oh you’re one to talk, I have to work with you and Ibiki.”

“Ibiki and I are a delight to work with. Besides, I’m not saying I don’t approve of the mooning. I’m just pointing out that you do it.”

“I don’t moon.”

“What’s wrong with mooning?” Tenzo puts in. “worked for Crane.”

“Hey!”

“Can you deny it?”

Crane sighs, “No, I suppose I can’t.”

“Hey, Puppy,” Anko says quietly, plopping down in the chair beside Hana as the conversation she instigated continues. The nickname bothered her the first three or four times, then Hana was breathing too hard to notice it. The older woman doesn’t seem to mean any harm by it. “Good job on the mission. Wasn’t expecting you to keep up.”

Hana laughs a nervous laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not so sure I would say I ‘kept up’, Viper… er, Anko-san. ‘Survived’ might be more accurate.” A week ago, Hana’s not sure she would have believed Mitarashi Anko was capable of ‘quiet’, not based on the rumors. But she keeps her voice soft, doesn’t draw attention to Hana in the corner, and has been nothing but patient in all areas except stamina.

“You did fine,” she reassures, then gestures to her face. “Be honest, did you know?”

“I, sort of. You were my best guess.” Hana’s shoulders raise self-consciously and she forces them back down. Is she supposed to admit that? Should she have said she knew for sure so she didn’t feel like she took her mask off prematurely?

Anko just nods thoughtfully, and smiles a narrow smile that fits genuinely into her features. “I like you, Inuzuka. You work hard, you’re honest when it’s an option, you’re gonna fit in just fine.” Hana’s stunned to silence for a moment by the easy reassurance, by the way Anko neatly addressed all of her concerns in one sentence.

“I…uh…”

“Anko, stop panicking the new recruits!” Lynx scolds, impressively misreading the situation.

“Oh, no, she wasn’t–”

“Mind your business, ear tufts,” Anko snarks, all of the bravado snapping back into place. Hana thinks she might have seen the actual person under the persona, for just a second there. “I’m talking to my kohai.” Hana’s abruptly grateful she never took off her mask, because it covers the blush she can feel heating her face as the whole room turns to look at her.

“Smooth moves, dumbass,” Genma drawls, batting Lynx over the head. Definitely a close relationship. Could be Raidou? “I don’t think Anko’s the one making her uncomfortable.”

“Oh, uh, right. Sorry, Wolf.”

“That’s okay, um…thanks for trying?”

“Yeah. Sure. No problem.” Hana takes it back, she’d love another mission. She’d love a hundred missions, back to back, with Viper setting the pace, if it gets her out of this room right now.

“Do you think Inoka will stay in T&I, Anko?” Tenzo asks, wrenching the spotlight back off of Hana. She signs a ‘thank you’ when everyone turns their attention to Anko, and gets a thumbs up in return. 

“Probably, she’s seen worse than anything we could throw at her.”

The group returns to speculating, and Hana works up the courage to add a comment or two, given her limited exposure to the Yamanaka. She’s not about to start her ANBU career as the timid one. Nobody acts like it’s strange for her to contribute, despite the gap in skill level. Anko doesn’t move from her chair to get closer to the group, and by the time she heads out for patrol, Hana thinks this isn’t actually so bad at all.

Chapter Text

“If you're going to make me get up with the sun, the least you can do is play a game,” Shikamaru grouches, sitting expectantly at the shogi table when Shikami gets back from his lap of the grounds.

The kid's been avoiding him like the plague for two days. Ever since he ended practice early. Shikami's not overly worried – the only person he's ever been able to hold a proper grudge against is Hidan – but it might be nice to clear the air before he leaves to trek across three nations at nine. 

Nine, what a stupid time to leave. If it was up to shinobi, nobody would ever leave at nine. It would be sun-up for most of them, and noon for the Nara.

Speaking of which. 

Shikami has never once so much as implied that Shikamaru should roll out of bed a second before he has to. He may be uniquely traumatised into becoming an early riser, but he's still a Nara, he wouldn't force it on the kid.

“You could always go back to bed,” Shikami half-teases, half-offers. Shikamaru's only response is an impressive glare. One of these days the kid will learn to communicate normally, but today Shikami just appreciates the effort to break the ice. “I’m sorry I lost my temper?” he tries, because the clan heir looks like he’s going to fall asleep on the board any second.

“Just sit down and make your move.” Well, he tried.

Shikami sits down, and is considering if he wants to try a new strategy when Shikamaru continues, making a clear effort to keep his tone bored. “Genma-san said you were trying to keep us safe, cancelling practice, I mean.” Did he? Where did Shikamaru encounter Genma? The Akimichi compound? Either way, it’s nice of Genma to try to get through to him. Even seems to have worked, to some extent.

“I promised I’d do everything I could, didn’t I?”

“Guess so.” Shikami makes his first move, and conversation trails off while the beginnings of strategies are set in place. “You’re scared a lot, aren’t you?” oh, it’s going to be this kind of talk. Okay. Shikami leans back on his hands while the kid considers his opening strategy.

“What makes you say that?”

“Something Genma-san said, that a little miscalculation could get someone hurt. He was talking about knee-jerk reactions, mostly, at least I think he was. But that’s how you do everything, like one misstep is the end of the world.” which… yeah, he’s not exactly wrong. But in Shikami’s defense, his whole goal is preventing the end of the world, in a much more concrete way than most people’s. One misstep could land them back in an apocalypse

“Yes, Shikamaru, I’m scared a lot.”

“Is that why you never relax?”

“I relax.”

“I’ve seen no proof of that,” says the brat, nodding at Shikami to make his move as he places a piece. The clacking of the tiles is the only sound for a while. “You scare me, sometimes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mean the yelling thing.”

“I know.” Of course the temper isn’t what’s bothering him, at least not in its specifics. It’s their similarities, the twin cores of a time traveller and his unwitting past self, that scare Shikamaru. “Don’t worry about it too much, you won’t turn out like me.” Shikami will not let him. 

His younger self shrugs, turning back to the game. 

At some point, Yoshino pads in – an early riser by Nara standards, but nowhere near Shikami’s terrible internal clock – and after taking the time to gawk at an alert Shikamaru, brings the pair cups of strong, black tea before retreating to her workshop.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Shikamaru murmurs eventually. 

“Hm?”

“Turning out like you, it wouldn’t be so bad. Just, it looks like it hurts.” Shikami doesn’t know where to start with any of that, so he focuses on the game while he sifts through responses.

“Be better.”

“Hm?”

“Be better than me.”

“I’ve got it on the authority of several jonin that you’re pretty strong.” Which jonin? Where is Shikamaru gossiping about him? The Akimichi compound? Was he somehow a topic of conversation with Kakashi? What the fuck?

It’s not the point, but Shikami is deeply curious now.

“Not stronger, better. Better to your friends, better to your family. They’re… it’s worth actively caring when they’re there to care about, even if it feels stupid and exhausting and like they’ll always be right there. They might not. They probably won’t.”

“Yours aren’t.” Shikamaru is blunt this early, is Shikami this blunt in the morning? Seems unlikely, he must have adapted to it eventually. The kid seems to realise that his comment borders on callous, because he hurries to qualify it. “I mean – I didn’t —”

“No. they’re not,” Shikami says, staring at the board. No need to dance around this particular point. Not like he’s wrong. “They’re gone. Everyone but Ino.”

“I wasn’t trying to poke old wounds,” Shikamaru whispers, frowning into his cooling tea.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry… y’know, that they died.” Shikami nods, moving his knight with a soft tap of stone against stone. 

They finish out the game before either speaks again, Shikamaru looking at another loss with resignation. “I’m…I’m trying. The whole active caring thing, I’m trying.”

“Then you’re off to a good start.” Shikami sips his tea with a tiny smile.

“Eugh, don’t be sappy, Shikami. Go check your gear, I’m going back to bed.” With that he pushes away from the table and heads back down the hall to his room grumbling about wastes of time and troublesome brothers. Shikami packs up the shogi board and goes to finish his mission preparation.

•••

Asuma’s probably run more diplomatic escort missions than anyone in the village. Between his time at the Daimyo’s court, his father’s position as hokage, and his skill as a jonin, he’s the perfect combination of competent and diplomatic to not piss off either the team he’s assigned or the diplomats.

All of this to say, Asuma knows escort missions. Knows the risks of borderline C and B rank missions being mislabeled. Knows the tensions between Fire and Lightning have never fully died down. Knows the chance of nukenin encounters is rising at a slight but noticeable rate. Knows that Shikami and Inoka have a flawless mission record one entry long, and need to be tested in a semi-controlled environment.

Even so, having seen what Shikami can do first hand, and heard stories from the T&I crew about Inoka’s skills test and composure under pressure, the three of them on one C-rank is unbelievable overkill. They send fresh genin teams on C-ranks. Not under-ranked, battle-hardened chunin and the subject expert on escort missions. Upon receiving this assignment, Asuma had asked the hokage point-blank if he thought the miracle chunin were spies.

A good chunk of his best jonin would disagree at this point, and could probably scrape together a pretty good case on their trustworthiness if pressed. But it would at least explain the team composition.

But no, apparently he’s just being ‘extra cautious’ with their returned chunin, not sure how prepared they might be for field work. 

Asuma’s momentarily offended at what sounds like an excuse to pad his mission – like he's a kid who still needs extra support in the field.

Then he considers that the last direct contact Hiruzen had with Inoka and Shikami was as the near-skeletal, haunted-eyed pair who walked through the gates a month ago. They might be officially cleared for duty, and Asuma might know that they’re both crawling out of their skin with boredom, but he can begrudgingly understand the caution. If they were to turn out unfit, he’s about the only one who can confidently run a diplomatic escort with that much deadweight and no help.

They’ll be fine, of course, Asuma knows that. He’s friends with enough of their type, their specific brand of live-and-die-by-the-job trauma, to know they’ll be efficient shinobi until it kills them. Like Kakashi. And Raidou. And…well most of the people he knows. It’s survivorship bias, kids as young as they were on the battlefield need a reason to push on. Those who don’t have that drive, quit. Or die.

Either way, they’ll be fine, if bored. And if the C-rank curse does hit, well, they’ll have very well-protected diplomats.

When Asuma arrives at the gate at eight-thirty, he’s expecting to be the first one there. He usually is, standard shinobi arrival time is fifteen minutes prior to departure. Instead he finds Shikami leaning against the guard station, deep in conversation with Izumo while Kotetsu tries to stay awake.

“Morning, Asuma-san,” calls a voice behind him while he’s contemplating what it takes to get a Nara looking so alert this early in the morning. A glance reveals Inoka, just as chipper as her partner and nearly as early. Freaks.

“Morning, ready to be back in the field?”

“More than ready.”

Asuma lights a cigarette as he comes to a stop at the threshold. Without glancing up from his conversation, Shikami does the same. They seem to be breaking down a tactical maneuver from Izumo’s last mission, but he can’t make heads or tails of it, having come in halfway through.

“Morning Asuma-san,” Kotetsu says, rubbing his eyes. He blinks slowly at the kunoichi beside him, then nods a greeting to her as well. “Inoka-san.”

“Morning,” she says, setting down a couple of to-go cups of coffee on the desk. “Figured early shift might want some caffeine.”

“You’re a saint, Inoka-san.” Kotetsu picks up the coffee, eagerly taking a gulp before jerking his head at Shikami. “You know he’s been here forty-five minutes? Who talks strategy that early? Who shows up that early for a mission at all, matter of fact?”

“Shika occasionally talks strategy in his sleep,” Inoka replies with an easy shrug.

“One time, you evil woman, it happened one time,” Shikami protests, finally breaking concentration from his conversation. “Stop telling people that.” he glances around at his surroundings, then down at the freshly-lit cigarette like he’s just now noticing it. “Morning Asuma-san. We heading out soon?”

“Still got a half hour, you were awfully early. Worried you would oversleep?” It seems the most plausible explanation. Given their team makeup he would have thought Shikami would be the last to arrive. But the Nara shakes his head, and the Yamanaka rolls her eyes.

“If he had things his way we would have been on the move by five-thirty.” Asuma waits for a snarky response, something that would indicate Inoka’s joking, but nothing’s forthcoming. 

An early-rising Nara? Interesting, if confusing. It’s not that they’re wired differently or something, it’s just that the clan’s penchant for shadows lends itself to a later schedule, and very little of Nara compound life happens before noon to account for the prevalence of night work. Asuma’s been at the bar with him a couple of times, the most alert person in the room during the wee hours of the morning, and had assumed the usual Nara schedule was at play. Now he’s just wondering when, exactly, Shikami sleeps.

“I just think it’s a waste of daylight. Don’t let Ino fool you, she’s a morning person, too,” Shikami grumbles, turning back to pick up his conversation with Izumo now that greetings are finished.

“Any reason in particular you’re bribing the gate guard?” the jonin asks Inoka.

“Ah, I’ve done a couple 4-10s since getting back, I know how brutal they are. Figured I’d bring provisions to power them through the last couple hours.” Inoka’s working the gate?

“Do you ever rest?” between T&I, helping the kids morning and night, personal training, social gatherings, and now this, when would there be time?

“Helping the pre-genin is very restful.” So no, then, she doesn’t rest.

“Anko said you were pelting the Uchiha kid with rocks?”

“Very restful.” Inoka nods seriously, keeping her straight face for all of thirty seconds before a grin breaks through. Asuma laughs along with her, trying to subtly check for signs of fatigue. She seems fine, and Sage knows these two can handle themselves. Still, doesn’t hurt to check. “He’s trying to learn to water-walk, but he refuses to meditate. I’m trying some…unconventional methods to improve his focus.”

“Is it working?”

“Kinda.”

The arrival of their diplomats forestalls any further conversation. Asuma stubs his cigarette and goes over to greet them, trying not to envy Shikami as he smokes on.

•••

By nightfall they’ve made it maybe half the distance the shinobi would have covered on their own, and taken three whole breaks. 

Inoka’s glad to be out of the village again, running actual missions and getting a feel for the political climate of the other villages. There’s a war brewing, even if barely anyone knows it yet, and she needs to know more about what the other villages have noticed. It’s their biggest gap in knowledge. After the disaster of the chunin exams, Shikami has a pretty good idea of how the politics played out, but the only member of their four-person knowledge share who was an active shinobi at this point last time was Kakashi. 

While he may be a couple years out of ANBU, Kakashi’s still being assigned mostly cloak-and-dagger work, and plenty of stealth missions. He provided a comprehensive list of nukenin wearabouts and upcoming assassinations, but he was pretty much useless in regards to village relations. Sure, he had the general things: Kiri’s still in turmoil, Kumo hasn’t been forgiven for the Hyuga affair, Suna is getting financially desperate enough to work with Orochimaru, Ame is under Nagato’s thumb. But none of them were in good positions to know specifics, and it wasn’t like they had time to dig through the rubble of Konoha looking for decade-old intelligence reports.

So, Inoka’s glad to finally be allowed out of the village. But, Sage, she hates escort missions.

Diplomats travel for a living, they probably travel more than any civilians except merchants. How can they still be so insufferably bad at it?

She knows, she knows that their job is important, and startlingly dangerous by civilian standards. She knows she could never spend half of her life being scrutinised for any tiny imperfection like they do. But the other half of their life is spent on the road. Is it too much to ask that they know how to watch a stew? Not gather the wood, or hunt the meat, or build the fire, or pitch the tent, or even boil the water. Just watch the stew? Just…and not assume that she’s obviously going to do it, because she’s a woman, and women are meant to cook? That’s not how it works in shinobi society, where practicality has long outweighed those sorts of gender roles. Besides, it was always Choji’s job. 

Asuma watches the stew while he pitches the tents. Shikami sets up a proper barrier seal that the diplomats cannot seem to get through their heads that they should stay inside of. Inoka volunteers for first watch, because while she’s far too good at her job to ever snap at them, she also doesn’t particularly want to be around their charge just now.

She's the best scout they have, catching every flicker of chakra from the squirrel's nest in the tree above her head, to a bear fishing about a kilometre off. They should tie the food up high tonight, though it should never be able to breach the barrier. Of course, any shinobi threat worth her concern will be masking their chakra, but the fact remains that Inoka's sensing ability makes her far and away their best scout. It's almost logical enough to convince herself she's not hiding.

Thing is, when Ino was a genin she used to like these missions. (And there were a lot of these missions for three clan heirs and the son of the hokage. Sakura's whole team almost died on their first C-rank. Ino's took a walk to the land of tea and spent a week learning the proper way to whisk matcha while their diplomat negotiated some trade deal or other). She liked getting to take it slow for once. She liked talking to the diplomats about how they managed to look so put together on the road. She liked asking them for tips on putting people at ease that she could try on Sasuke or the people in the florist's.

Even once Shikamaru made chunin, in the chaos following the sand attack there were a lot of diplomatic missions. So Ino’s run plenty of these missions with just Cho and Asuma, sometimes with Sakura as their fourth once Naruto left. In those days diplomatic missions were about the only break they took from chunin exam prep, an oasis of nursing sore muscles, where they were still almost allowed to be kids.

Then Asuma died, and war broke out, and the world ended. 

The world ended, and the civilians of all sorts died, and died, and died right alongside their protectors. The world ended, and it changed her. Changed her enough that she can’t see the worth in being told ‘we’re lucky the trip is short, I hate camp food,’ when she almost starved once, and the offer of ‘a great cream, works wonders to lighten scars’ when they notice the one on her face sets her teeth on edge. People are dying, and dying, and dying, even now.

She’ll protect the diplomats with her life, and she doesn’t begrudge them their little incompetencies, not really. Everyone has their own roles to play and there's a lot they do that she’d be terrible at. But she doesn’t find them novel and intriguing the way she did as a genin. She’s too much the soldier, now, to understand how anyone could complain about warmth, and food, and basic shelter.

There’s no campfire stew at the end of the world.

“They’re asleep, go eat something,” says Shikami, settling down beside her, shoulders pressed together for a second. “I’ve got the next watch.” he leans his head back against the trunk of the tree, staring up into the sky, and doesn’t condemn her for running away. If he were anyone else, she’d feel the need to explain it anyways. As it is she just returns his nudge with one of her own.

“Thanks,” she murmurs.

“Course,” he replies, matching her volume, “go get some dinner, Ino.”

Inoka stretches slowly and heads for the fire.

“I did try to convince him I’d take next watch,” says Asuma as she approaches. “But, he insisted.”

“He’s very hard to argue with,” she says, sitting down on the log they’re using as a makeshift bench.

“I noticed.”

“Too smart for his own good, I’ve been trying to tell…” tell who? Choji? Sakura? Asuma himself? Like that’d make sense to say.

She takes a spoonful of stew, like that’s why she paused in the first place. “Damn, not bad. Do you carry a spice kit?”

“Just a small one.”

“Better than anything I’d have made, even with a fully stocked kitchen.”

“Not much of a cook?”

“Never been my thing.”

“You can hunt though, obviously.” obviously, because no matter what the diplomats say about a proper lady’s role, they’re Inoka’s rabbits in the pot. “Shikami’s the cook, then?” it’s a reasonable question, usually someone in a team has at least passable cooking skills, just as a quality of life measure. She could say yes. Technically between the two of them, he’s better, though in truth neither is terrible – Choza would never have allowed it. 

But she doesn’t really want to lie to Asuma of all people, not more than she needs to, and she has too much respect for her friends to think that none of them have noticed the way she and Shika still look for Choji in certain moments. Odds are she’d be lying about an open secret.

“Nah, Shikami’s decent when the need arises. But, he’s not our cook.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s the job.” Asuma hums. “You’re the cook, though?” She knows he is. She knows his jonin sensei could burn water, and his teammates aren’t much better. She knows everything about him already, either from his own mouth or from Kurenai and Raidou in the aftermath. It’s just something to say. It’s just pretending this man didn’t die in their arms.

“Sure am. Kurenai oversalts everything, and Raidou poisoned us all when we were genin.”

“Did your sensei teach you, then?” Asuma laughs.

“Hizashi-sensei was good at everything I ever saw him try, Inoka-kun, everything but cooking. That man could burn water. ” She smiles at the way his eyes light up. He’ll tell Ino-Shika-Cho this a hundred times, just to see Choji’s face screw up. “No, I learned to cook from my mother.” Inoka’s never heard this bit before.

Sarutobi Biwako, the glue that held the family together. After her death, Asuma’s sister disappeared into ANBU, Asuma himself to the Daimyo’s court, and Hiruzen back into the hokage’s office with Danzo as his main confidant.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

“That’s the job,” he repeats. “You mind if I smoke?”

“It’ll destroy your lungs.” Asuma grins, lighting a cigarette, anyway.

She lets it go, like usual.  Smoking is terrible for him, but it’s a drop in the bucket of suicidally stupid things shinobi do every day.

That’s the job.

Chapter Text

Three days into their trip they’re approaching the border with Hot Water, and Shikami hasn’t even strangled any diplomats for how slow they walk, or how late they wake up, or how they treat his sister just a little differently from their male guards. He's thought about it more than is strictly professional, but what they don't know won't hurt them. Other than that, though, things are going well.

There’s a nice, visible river serving as a border between Fire and Hot Water and they have a rock-solid reason to be in the area, so Shikami isn’t as stressed as he might otherwise be about the border crossing. Still, he wanders along ahead of the group with his hands shoved in his pockets and adopts a bored expression like any good Nara, and watches every movement of every scurrying mouse and falling leaf for danger.

The Nara’s not as good a scout as his Yamanaka teammate, but he’s still damn good. So Inoka brings up the rear, scanning the whole area for unusual presences with her unparalleled sensing and staying ready for a surprise attack from behind. Asuma sticks close to the diplomats, he's the most agreeable of the trio and the team leader, as well as the strongest at close range protection if it comes to it. Shikami stays out ahead, just barely in view of the travelling party, and makes up for his lack of sensing ability with sharper eyes and ears.

It's a good team comp, but of course it is. More than the bonds the four clans share went into making team ten. They're only lacking in raw power. Again, though, that's to be expected.

The sun is setting and Shikami's sure the diplomats are starting to make noises about stopping for the day. For once he's inclined to agree, they're not going to make much more progress today and if they have the option he'd rather camp on their side of the border.

Shikami's just about to pull back and bring it up to Asuma, when there's a flicker in the trees that decidedly does not belong. 

A lifetime of instinct, polished to a shine from a decade of battle, means that Shikami has the white-haired man pinned to a tree with shadows wrapped just tight enough to be uncomfortable at the wrists, ankles, and neck before he fully registers the threat at all.

These are shinobi roads, and they're still in Fire territory. Either he's caught a Fire shinobi, and they'll laugh it off, or someone is lurking in the trees where they shouldn't be. He whistles a warning back to his team, and only then does he recognize his captive.

“Oh for–” the sanin grins an infuriating grin and wiggles his fingers in a limited ‘hi’.

The man opens his mouth to speak, but Shikami stretches his shadows up to cover the lower half of his face before he gets the words out. Better safe than sorry. “Ino, ID?” they wait about fifteen seconds, neither man breaking eye contact. Then, Inoka's laugh rings out from the defensively positioned group. 

“All clear!” Jiraiya raises his eyebrows when Shikami takes another moment to study him after the Yamanaka’s analysis. He takes an extra second after he’s sure, just to spite the sanin.

Asuma's chuckling in the distance, so clearly he's been filled in.

As satisfied that this is the real Jiraiya as he's going to get, Shikami withdraws his shadow.

“Jiraiya of the Sanin.”

“Not bad, Nara.” The older man laughs, rubbing his wrists. “Here I thought I was being sneaky.” Despite what his job might indicate, Shikami's never found the spymaster to be particularly good at sneaky. Disarming? Absolutely. But not covert. Still, he is a sanin, so the Nara takes the compliment.

“Why are you sneaking up on my party, Jiraiya-sama?” He asks with a sigh, hands disappearing back into his pockets as he leads the man back to the group.

“Not even going to introduce yourself, Nara-kun?” Jiraiya avoids the question as they come to a stop, but Shikami doesn’t call him on it for the moment.

“Nara Shikami.”

“And Asuma, of course. And this lovely–”

“You like your tongue attached, old man?” Inoka asks, checking her nails.

“–Respectable kunoichi, must be your partner, Shikami-kun. Yamanaka Inoka, isn't it?”

“Must be.”  The diplomats are starting to look a little peeved at Jiraiya, who has yet to even glance their way. They’re used to the shinobi guard fading into the background, not being the ignored ones. And to be ignored by such a prominent figure as one of the Sanin must be a real slap in the face. Shikami exchanges a pointed glance with Asuma. 

Jiraiya doesn’t usually come to this end of Fire if he can avoid it, usually sending a toad or a letter to report. Even when he’s in the area, he almost never uses the ninja roads, preferring to blend in to the civilian populace as the infamous pornographer rather than chance a run-in with someone who might actually hold him accountable. Like Kakashi. Or Genma, Raidou, and Iwashi. Or, say, Asuma.

The fact that he’s here, watching the mission of a man he’s almost certainly trying to avoid is not a good sign. The fact that he’s focusing his attention on the shinobi contingent of the group – rather than the more easily scandalised diplomats – and sticking around long enough for introductions is an even worse one.

“Jiraiya-sama, this is Miyamura-san, Konoha’s ambassador to Frost,” Asuma introduces the friendly middle-aged man with a touch more force than is entirely polite. It's enough to snap the sanin out of wherever his thoughts are, at least enough to exchange pleasantries with the diplomats while the other three make camp.

“Of course, where are my manners…”

•••

Another coffee appears in Iruka's window while he's marking. He’s not watching for it, and doesn't register the blur past his window any more than he does the ANBU ones that frequent the area. Between the protection of the academy and their proximity to the hokage tower, there are always plenty around

Still, nice to know Kakashi got back safe, Iruka never quite relaxes when he’s out of the village. 

It’s not that he thinks the jonin can’t handle himself in the field or something, of course he can. It’s just…Iruka has S-rank clearance. Has had it since he started teaching Naruto, at least, if he hadn’t had it for a while by then without realising it. At the missions desk, that translates to a niche in high level work. He handles the S-rank mission reports, organises the files, and could probably guess half the ANBU identities in the village just by how often each of his S-rank regulars disappear with no mission for weeks on end.

Iruka, maybe more than anyone in the village including the ones assigning the missions, knows how brutally disproportionate Kakashi’s load of S-ranks is. Statistically, the man should be dead ten times over. Even the ANBU are less consistently in danger than he is. Most of them have day jobs to draw outsider suspicion away from their potential for shadow work. Between those day jobs, drilling, training new recruits, patrolling, and having at least a handful on standby at all times in case of emergencies, ANBU is too small for everyone to be running back-to-back impossible missions. Not to say it’s not dangerous, or that he doesn’t worry when his ANBU friends are away, but it doesn’t give him the same sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Because the ANBU crew are regulated, and from what Iruka knows ANBU mednin are semi-feral creatures with very strict recovery plans.

And Kakashi? Kakashi’s either actively injured or he’s gone. No regulation, no proper rest.

Iruka tried to talk to Nara Shikaku about it once, because if anyone has authority over the jonin, one would think it would be the jonin commander. Apparently if anyone is anywhere near as worried as Iruka is, it’s the head of the only clan in the village that fully values rest, but most of Kakashi’s missions come from over Shikaku’s head. So Iruka’s at a dead end, as no matter how close he is with the sandaime, he’s not exactly in a position to tell the man how to run his village.

Instead he just worries, and waits, and wonders if this mission is the one where Hatake Kakashi doesn’t come back.

They’re not even that close. It’s just that when Iruka was hurt on a mission once, Kakashi got him home. And who is there to do that for the copy-nin? Who’s worrying for the last member of a team of martyrs? Iruka’s got a big heart and not enough people left to fill it these days. So he worries.

To be fair, they’ve been getting closer lately. It helps that Inoka’s some sort of chakra-depletion bloodhound who Kakashi couldn’t convince he was recovered until he was, and the Hatake was home for almost two full weeks straight this month. It helps that Naruto has friends, and is too busy to hang around with Iruka all the time. Because Iruka was a lonely kid, and he’s never going to say no to Naruto when it comes to quality time, but it’s nice to be a person outside of all the pre-genin sometimes.

Iruka tests the coffee for poison like always, sighing when it comes up containing a mild paralytic. The paralytic was nothing serious, enough to numb his mouth and the tips of his fingers, probably not even enough for proper paralysis, and after the day he’s had, he considers dealing with the side effects just to have the caffeine. He shakes his head and dumps it down the sink. He’d never hear the end of it.

The coffees are getting more frequent lately, as he and Kakashi get closer, but trap ones are an even newer development. 

For years he got one coffee a semester from Kakashi, when he came to pick up Naruto’s progress report. The last month or so he’s gotten a coffee whenever Kakashi gets back from a mission, and a couple times when the kids have been notably bratty that day. It’s good he knows Kakashi camps out in that tree when he’s anxious about Naruto, and has been doing so for Iruka’s whole career, or he’d worry he was being watched. The last two weeks or so he’s had three coffees with a mildly poisonous substance in them, followed by normal apology coffees. Either Kakashi is very slowly poisoning someone – not likely, given the poisons aren’t exactly subtle – and keeps getting the coffees switched, or Iruka’s vigilance is being tested.

It would be creepy to a civilian. At least, Iruka assumes it would. What does he know? He might not be clan, but he still came from a shinobi family, has shinobi friends, and works a shinobi job in a shinobi village. Everything he knows about civilians is either learned from the civilian parents of his future-shinobi kids, or a stone cold guess. 

But it would probably be creepy to a civilian. As far as Iruka’s concerned it’s sort of endearing, to know the worry goes two ways. He sets the empty cup upside down on the inside lip of the closed window and goes back to grading.

A couple minutes later, a second cup appears on the ledge outside his heavily warded window. He slides the pane open, grabs the cup, and tests it. Paralytic again, but less this time. The teacher snorts and dumps this one down the sink as well, taking the time to doodle a crude depiction of a middle finger on it before setting it beside the first. 

The third cup isn’t tampered with, nor is the cookie that accompanies it. Iruka checks three times, less worried about being poisoned than about losing. He leaves the window open and goes back to grading, despite the urge to yell out the window and see if Kakashi’s still there. The man’s more like a stray cat than the dogs he’s usually associated with, if Iruka shows an overt interest in talking to him, he’ll never show up.

As far as Iruka can tell, Kakashi only keeps two types of friends. The first is people who have been through hell with him, and lost the same things, and never wavered. Like Gai, Genma and Raidou, Asuma and Kurenai. The second is people who never knew him in the before but have learned his quirks since, those who were too busy being traumatised in their own ways to watch the Hatake prodigy lose everything. Like Anko, Tenzo, Inoka and Shikami more recently, and hopefully Iruka. He thinks they’re friends, or something like it. Friends have coffee together sometimes, and this little game of theirs is something like that. 

Couples have coffee together too, but Iruka would rather be certain that Kakashi more than tolerates him for Naruto intel before he starts daydreaming. He’s pretty sure they’re friends. He’s just not so sure he’s a good judge of people since the Mizuki thing.

So he leaves the window open and walks away, biting into the cookie as he does so. It’s still warm.

Iruka marks twelve survival theory tests, and the sun dips behind the trees, before Kakashi stops in the window with a takeout bag. All right, that’s new. They’re definitely something like friends, then. Probably.

“You know poisoning the coffee is just desensitizing me, right? One of these days someone’s really going to try and kill me and I’ll assume it’s just you messing with me.”

“If you find something lethal in there, safe to assume it’s not me.”

“You coming in?”

“You have time for company?”

“When company brings Ichiraku.”

“I could just leave it for you, I can see you’re buried.” he’s actually slightly less buried than he has been lately, it’s just that he didn’t realise quite how efficient Shikami was at the missions desk until he left, and the workload went up by half in the last three days. It hasn’t left much time for grading. Besides, the pre-genin are nervous wrecks.

“I’ve got time.” He really doesn’t, but he’s not about to ignore social interaction initiated by the most private person he knows. 

Kakashi perches in a much too small chair, setting the bowls out on the far side of the desk from the papers to prevent spilling. “Busy day?”

“All the days are busy, we’re heading into their final term soon.”

“Do you think they’re ready?”

“Depends, if I tell you what they still need to work on are you going to use it as an excuse to fail three of my kids?”

“It’s not a difficult test.” He’s right, it’s not. 

After the Mizuki nightmare, Iruka had maybe done some light digging into his friends’ files, not willing to be surprised like that again, and found Kakashi’s genin failure rate. It was disturbing enough to bring up during his monthly tea with the sandaime, but the description of Kakashi’s test calmed his nerves. 

It’s not a difficult test. Except that the academy curriculum heavily focused on training students to survive, and on basic fundamental skills. There should be more emphasis on teamwork, of course there should. It’s what Konoha is famous for. But even if there should be, there's not. 

So Kakashi’s test is failing kids on a skill that’s been untested to that point – a skill that jonin sensei are supposed to teach them. But it’s also a little startling how many of these genin are coming out of the academy without basic human compassion, so Iruka doesn’t fully disagree with his methods. 

The teacher hums and keeps his eyes firmly fixed on his bowl so the copy-nin can eat at his own pace without worrying about his mask. “How was your mission?” He’s one of a very small list of people who can ask that question, since more than likely end up seeing the mission report in the end.

“Unsettlingly easy.”

“No injuries this time?”

“Nothing major. No need to sick Inoka on me.”

“She’s not here, anyway.”

“No? No wonder you look exhausted. The pre-genin must be unteachable.”

“They’re a little stressed.”

“They can’t hear you, you know,” Kakashi prods. Iruka manages a dry chuckle at that. 

“They’ve been headcases all week.”

“There you go.”

•••

Nothing more of interest is said until the diplomats have retired to their tents, barriers have been raised, and Jiraiya has put up a set of privacy seals that would have made Naruto salivate like the Ichiraku special. The four ninja settle around the tiny, smokeless fire with meals of coal-baked fish.

“My eyes and ears in the Mist, hm?” muses Jiraiya, picking a bone out of his fish with a thoughtful frown. 

“Some of them,” Shikami answers.

At the same time, Inoka responds: “Not anymore.”

Inoka generally does not like Jiraiya. She can’t stand the goofy pervert character he puts on, the way the man seems never to have matured past twelve at times, but she’s got enough trauma training to know how he turned out like that. To know that the loss of all three students – one of whom was more his son than anything – along with the abandonment of one teammate, the betrayal of another, and the presumed death of the Ame orphans is more than enough trauma to cause regression. 

So, she understands him, but she doesn’t like the version of Jiraiya she generally has to interact with. 

But that’s not the Jiraiya who’s sitting across from her at the fire. This man is serious in a way she’s rarely seen. He’s not Jiraiya the porn writer in this firelight, he’s Jiraiya of the sanin. He’s a sad, lonely, stubborn, resilient old man. Inoka’s sort of loath to admit it, but she doesn’t mind this version at all.

“Not anymore, Inoka-kun, you’ve got me there. You know spies in Kiri have the second-lowest survival rate for Konoha shinobi?”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” mutters Shikami, though Asuma looks a little alarmed.

“Only second?” He asks.

“Kumo's first, I assume?” Jiraiya nods.

“You been to the Bloody Mist, lately, Asuma?” asks the sanin. Asuma shakes his head. “The Raikage hunts Konoha spies in Kumo, and Kiri is only narrowly less dangerous. And by far more horrifying to experience on a day-to-day basis. These two came back alive from a death mission. The news made it to me within the week in another nation, that’s how rare that was to the village. They’re proven spies in terrible circumstances, and that place is bad enough that I doubt they’ll ever be assigned espionage again just because of the strain that sort of mission puts on the mind.” he turns to look at the pair, “I’m assuming you knew that?”

They’d kind of banked on it, actually. It would have made saving the world a lot harder if they were sent into deep cover the moment they were cleared for duty, though of course they had contingencies.

“Figured, seeing as we’re on an escort mission,” Shikami drawls. “You gonna get to why you were lurking in the woods anytime soon?”

“Ah, yeah. Well, no offense but I wanted to see if you met the hype.”

“Because?”

“Aren’t Nara supposed to be laid back? I’m getting to it, kid. Trying to eat my dinner in peace.”

“Whatever.” Shikami rolls his eyes. “Enjoy your meal, then. I'm going to check the perimeter.” He's gone before Jiraiya can protest about the strength of his seals making the patrol unnecessary.

The sanin lets out a low, slow whistle. “That cannot be a healthy way to live.”

“Says the porn guy,” Inoka snarls back. Like Jiraiya, of all people, can comment on strange coping mechanisms. The Sage puts his hands up in surrender.

“Right, sorry. I didn't mean to offend. I'm actually glad the two of you are here because…well, like I said. Let's eat before we start on business.”

So they eat, and Shikami does a couple laps of the perimeter.

“You done yet?” Shikami asks,  coming to a stop behind Inoka and leaning his chin on her head.

“Pulling my hair.”

“Sorry, sorry, Ino-hime,” he grins, taking a seat beside her. The walk clearly did him good.

“All right,” Jiraya says. The serious set of his face causes the pair to sober up instantly, sharpening their focus.

“What's going on?” Asuma asks.

“Are you aware of a group called Akatsuki?” Ino pinches the bridge of her nose to ward off a headache. Shikami lights a cigarette. “I’ll take that as a yes from the two exhausted-looking former spies, and a no from the concerned jonin?”

“It’d be stupid to live in Mist and not keep up with Hoshigaki Kisame,” Inoka says in way of explanation. Shikami’s cigarette is bending in his grip, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off the flames of the campfire. Inoka, who is having no trouble looking anywhere so long as it’s not at either of the dead men across the fire, nudges his shoulder. “Can’t say we’re fans.”

“Can’t say I blame you.”

“Who are Akatsuki?” asks Asuma.

“A terrorist organisation,” Shikami murmurs. Talking is a step in the right direction. Ino knows he never stopped blaming himself for Asuma’s death, not fully, so this is probably a significantly less pleasant conversation for him than it is for her. And Inoka is not having a good time, herself. “Highly specialised nukenin from several villages, united by an unknown goal. Orochimaru’s a member. Word is, so is Uchiha Itachi.”

“Not bad, kid,” Jiraya’s clearly impressed with their level of information on the secret organisation. Little does he know they’re cheating.

“I do not like Akatsuki,” Shikami responds through gritted teeth.

“Let’s hope you don’t run into them, then.”

“They’re active in the area?” Asuma asks, fingers twitching like he’s also considering a cigarette but is trying to be the responsible team lead.

“In the area might be a stretch, there’s been a strange amount of activity in the Land of Rice. They’re generally pretty covert, even I usually don’t get reports on their movements until they’re long gone. They’re usually spotted around Ame and Taki, so it’s worth warning groups in this area that they're around. Especially when the mission is involving the hokage’s son.” Asuma looks troubled by the notion, losing the battle against his nicotine habit with a sigh.

“I’m a liability to the team?”

“I doubt that, this would be a stupid mission to run without you on it, but you do carry different risks.” 

“Who?” Inoka asks, before Asuma can start self-doubting.

“Sorry?”

“Who’s been spotted in Rice?” because Orochimaru should be active in the nation by now, busy building it up into the Land of Sound, and Jiraiya probably doesn’t know his former teammate has left the organisation yet. 

“Orochimaru,” expected, “as well as Itachi and Kisame,” well that can’t be good, “and I’ve gotten a couple of reports that Deidara has been spotted as far as Earth.” Shit. Nothing normal about Deidara anywhere near Iwa, home turf where his bounty is highest.

“Any idea what’s got them riled up?” asks Asuma while Ino and Shika carefully do not exchange a glance.

“Not sure. It seems like they’re looking for something.” could just be Orochimaru. Newly defected Orochimaru, who they definitely did attempt to hunt down after he defected last time. It’s probably normal, and expected, and Jiraiya gave this warning to whoever Asuma had with him on this mission last time. “It likely won’t come to anything, but I was in the area. Figured you’d rather have the heads up. Haven’t heard any reports of members in Fire, but with you about to cross the border and all…”

“Of course, Jiraiya-sama, we appreciate the warning.” Asuma is a remarkably composed man, but the time travellers know him well enough to read the tightening at the corners of his mouth for the stress it denotes.

“Hopefully we don’t need it,” Ino says, smiling at the sage. It was good of him to stop by and tell them, despite his reticence to engage with Konoha shinobi. Good of him to let them know. Even though everything is probably fine. The odds of them encountering Akatsuki the first time they leave the village are –

Everything is probably fine.

Team ten’s luck is usually so good with Akatsuki.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Choza-jii! I need your help with something.” Calls the familiar voice of Yamanaka Ino, entering the main house. 

“Ino-chan, what can I do for you?”He's not expecting Choji for hours, as his son is almost certainly at the top of a hill in the Nara woods right now, but it's not unheard of for Ino to visit the compound on her own.

“Do you know where Genma-san is right now? Iruka-sensei said you might.” Far as he knows, Genma is neither on a mission, nor currently on shift. If he's not on ANBU business, he's probably around somewhere. He only has a vague idea of the former members of team Choza’s schedules, but Gen's patterns haven't changed all that much over the years.

“I might.” The Akimichi clan head glances up from his paperwork to see an uncertain pink-haired girl beside the expected blonde. “Oh, hello Sakura-chan.”

“Sorry for the intrusion Akimichi-sama,” she says, looking terribly awkward to have entered a clan space without asking permission.

“Not a problem,  Sakura-chan. Now, then, why are we trying to locate Genma?”

It may not be unheard of for Ino to visit, but it's significantly less common for her to bring a friend, as she currently has. At least, Choza is pretty sure they’re friends again. 

He's usually better at keeping up with his niece and nephew's lives, but he's been a little preoccupied as of late. The whole ‘a version of your child you will never get to meet died a horrible death’ thing has been a tough pill to swallow, and the ‘the other kids you helped raise barely survived and are cripplingly traumatised’ part hasn't gone down much easier.

He's seen Inoka a few times, mostly in passing around the couple of greenhouses the Yamanaka and Akimichi share custody of. She's…well She's Ino. Scarred and strong and grieving, but so clearly Ino that it knocked the wind out of him the first time he saw her. Every time they cross paths she's quiet, and grim, and she can't meet his eyes. The meetings aren't long, but they've been enough to reassure Choza, to see that she really did come out the other side of the apocalypse in one piece.

He hasn't seen Shikami at all, not even a glimpse. Both time travellers are avoiding him, obviously so, but one is trying harder than the other.

Choza doesn't hold it against either of them, he just worries. He's been through enough warzones with his team to have wondered what losing Inoichi or Shikaku would do to him, but he still can't really wrap his head around the thought. The survivor's guilt alone would be – point is, he worries. 

In the absence of actually meeting Shikami, and with nothing more than vague and stilted small talk with Inoka, Choza’s been relying on information other members of his circle supply without grasping the full significance.

Shikamaru says his cousin can't sit still, so Shikami must still be in fight-or-flight mode.

Naruto, over for dinner one night – Naruto, properly fed after all these years of going against all Akimichi clan teachings in order to not help the boy – says Inoka eats nearly as much as he does at Ichiraku, so she's still recovering from the starvation.

Genma defends the pair fiercely, so they've clearly found friends with the most loyal, most broken pack of former child soldiers in the village. That bit, at least, helps Choza sleep easier at night.

“Inoka-nee said if we wanted to do target practice while she's gone we had to ‘hunt down Genma and bully him into supervising’,” says Ino now, so he knows Inoka is still willing to rely on others.

“And how are you planning to convince him to chaperone?”

“We're still working on the ‘hunt him down’ part,” Ino frowns.

“And then?”

“We…sort of…figured we wouldn't need to do much to convince him.” Genma’s working two to three jobs at any given time, has never shown any interest in teaching, and takes special joy in being as difficult as possible to anyone he doesn’t consider one of his people. Suffice it to say, Choza’s skeptical of Sakura’s plan.

“You think he'll be happy to help out, Sakura-chan?” He's aiming to let the girls down gently, maybe offer to supervise himself, sometime this week, but the girl shakes her head.

“No, but if we mention it's a favour to Inoka-nee, he'll fold.” She seems entirely confident in this deduction. Genma must be awfully fond of Inoka, for that to be such a reliable tell. And Inoka must be awfully comfortable with Genma, to trust he'll help her little pupils, no questions asked.

Hm.

Well, he'd better see if the girls’ theory holds up.

“All right, then, let's see if we can find him.” an afternoon off, too late to still be sleeping, and too early to get antsy and start doing laps of the wall-top.

•••

They head through the row of shared greenhouses that line the short strip of border between the Akimichi and Yamanaka compounds. Ino starts chattering immediately about all of the progress they've made, accuracy and technique that Choza only vaguely understands. He nods and does his best to encourage his niece regardless, and this seems to be enough of a show of interest to draw Sakura into the conversation.

Choza is a close-range fighter, always knew he would be between his natural aptitude and the team makeup. These girls already know far more about the arc and spin of a well-thrown senbon than he ever will. But he's heard echoes of this from an irreverent, sarcastic, angry little boy. Genma had these epiphanies once – Choza tried to keep up with them and failed just as he is now – and now he's likely the best assassin in the village. From what he heard, Inoka's not someone to trifle with at range either. 

It should probably be a difficult thought, these sweet kids in those sorts of situations. It's not. Even the concept sends relief flooding through his body. Shinobi are either strong or they're dead. These ones will be strong.

As he suspected, Genma is crouched in a corner of the Yamanaka clan's infamous poison plants greenhouse, inspecting the leaves of a plant the Akimichi doesn't recognize.

“Ah ha! Thanks, Choza-jii!” Ino says, rushing over to his former student. Sakura sketches a bow.

“Thank you for your help, Choza-sama,” she says with a smile, and hurries after her friend. Choza leans against the doorframe to see how this plays out.

“Genma-san, hey, Genma-san!” the tokujo glances up, raises an eyebrow at Choza, and sighs.

“What do you brats want on my incredibly rare afternoon off?”

“Can you come watch us practice?”

“Aren't you old enough to practice on your own?” He turns back to his plant.

“Not according to Inoka-nee.” Genma's hands still on a leaf.

“Inoka thinks you need a babysitter?” He's aiming for his usual snarky disinterest, but it's landing a little too close in interest. “Ask Anko, she's got the day off.”

“So do you.”

“ I am busier than she is. My days off are –”

“You don't have to help, y’know,” Sakura cuts in. “But Inoka did specifically tell us to come find you . Not Anko-san. If you don't help, I'm gonna tell her you said you were too busy for us.” Ah, good, Sakura has been so polite he was worried she couldn't hold her own against the bossy, nosy insanity that is Choza’s favourite niece. Clearly she's got teeth of her own.

Genma sighs, straightening up and pulling off his gloves. Sakura’s petty blackmail appears to be working exactly as planned.

“You're a poisonous little brat, you know that?” Genma gripes. Sakura beams, clearly used to the tokujo's specific brand of ornery. Which implies this is far from the first time he's helped them out.

Hm.

Well, good for them. Both Inoka and Genma have been through too much. They deserve something good.

•••

Neji is planning to cut across training ground twelve on the way back to the compound, a week-and-a-half's worth of C-rank pay in his pocket and covered from the knee-down in mud. He just wants to get home, and change, and sit in the oppressive quiet of the compound until Lee’s shouts stop ringing in his ears. He finds himself frozen in place, though, when he emerges onto the open field.

Training ground twelve isn’t necessarily out of the way – a strip of tree-lined greenspace wedged between a kiddie park on the edge of the civilian district and the genin housing – but it’s not very big, and for that reason it’s rarely booked. It’s not even a good shortcut to the Hyuuga compound, it just happens to be the fastest way to Neji’s window, where he’s trying to get without the entire compound seeing him covered in mud.

There’s nothing remarkable about training ground twelve at all, except that at one of a line of run-down training dummies at the far end, Hyuga Hinata has beaten her knuckles bloody practicing taijutsu.

Neji, having emerged from the woods halfway across the field, is at just the right angle to see the red gleaming on the girl's knuckles. 

He can just keep walking, she hasn't noticed him yet, and he's been trying to avoid her as much as possible since the parent-teacher conferences. 

Yamanaka Inoka was very clear in her warning (and very, very kind, in not reporting him, now that Neji's looked up the infraction in the ninja code), and he doesn't even know where to start processing the revelations of the conference itself. He can just go home, shower, and sit in the quiet after ten days of constant Gai-sensei and Lee. He can. 

Except.

Except Hinata-sama is bleeding, but she's not stopping. 

She's no good at taijutsu, has no talent for it at all. Neji’s been telling her for years not to waste his time asking to train, not when he's forcibly bound to her so much of the time – is trying to live with how similar that sounds to how that Mizuki scum acted to his students.

But she's no good at taijutsu, it would be a waste of time to help her practice a skill she's hopeless at.

She's practicing anyway. 

She's working through the pain, doing kata after kata now so as not to get blood on the public equipment. Hinata is no good at taijutsu, she's too afraid to hurt people to spar effectively. She might make a good tracker one day, or a sharpshooter according to Iruka-sensei, and apparently her paper skills are exceptional. It's fine. Lee and Tenten are both half-decent ninja with glaring weak spots. Hinata's terrible at taijutsu, that's her fate. She's physically weak. Neji had thought she'd accepted that, thought she at least understood her own destiny like he did.

But then why is she training so hard?

Neji's feet carry him over to his cousin without conscious decision. She notices him fairly quickly, flicking sweat-soaked bangs out of her face with a grin.

“Neji-niisan, you're back safe!” There's the insufferable Hinata kindness he's expecting. The weakness that makes her so hesitant in a fight.

“Why are you wasting your time?”

“I'm not wasting my time.” 

Neji scoffs. There's nothing explicit in the code about being polite to civilians, only non-violent.

“You're weak, you're terrible at hand-to-hand. Why not practice something you have a hope of?”

“I'm weak.”

“I just said that.” Why does she have to be so hard to talk to all the time?

“H-how am I supposed to get…get stronger if I don't practice?”

“You're not. You're supposed to accept your natural limits.” What is so hard to understand about that? Neji is fated to die in service of the main family, Hinata is fated to need that protection. He's not sure where this whole ‘Hinata is going to have a seal’ thing is supposed to fit into things, but he'll figure it out. Maybe he's actually fated to protect Hanabi? 

Not the point right this second, for now the point is that Hinata is wasting her breath fighting fate.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Wh-why should I accept them, Neji-niisan? What happens if I…if I don't?” What happens if she…what is she on about?

“If you don't accept your fate, you're just wasting your time. You can't fight it, Hinata-sama. You aren't meant to be strong.”

“Pr-probably not. But I'm stronger than last week.”

“And you're still the worst close ranger fighter in your class.” She's worse than Hanabi, for that matter, and Hanabi is eight.

“But I'm better than I was last week. I'm not…not strong, but I-I am strong er. ” Neji can't technically argue that point.

“You're still wasting your time.” He argues, though he can't articulate exactly how. Surely she'll ask, and he'll have to sort out–

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Y-you're the genius, Neji-niisan. If you say so you're…you're probably right. But I'm going to keep practicing, anyway.”

“Why bother?”

“I'd like to be strong.”

“I just told you–”

“If that's n-not possible, then I'll at least be as strong as I can.”

“Why can't you just accept your role?” Why does she think she's so much better, that she can find some way to escape fate that he hasn't noticed?

“I know how…how you feel about fate. I d-don't hold it against you. But I don't want to live like that.”

“You don't get a choice.”

“I think I do.”

“Then you're delusional as well as weak!” Neji growls.

“Okay.” What?

“What?”

“Then I'm delusional. If…if it works how you s-say, then I'm fated to be weak and delusional. If it's fate then I-I can't fight it anyway. Why not try, in case you're wrong?”

That doesn't make any sense. This conversation is making his head hurt more than a week and a half of prolonged Lee exposure did. He tried to talk to her and steer her in a better direction, but if Hinata is going to be obstinate, Neji's going home.

“Forget it, waste your time for all I care.” He turns away, catches another glance at those bloody knuckles as he spins. “At least wrap your hands.” No need for her to get hurt on top of all the futile exhaustion.

“I don't have anything to…anything to wrap them with,” she says softly. As a pre-genin, she's got no right to go into the clan's shinobi storeroom, and Neji doesn't blame her for not asking Hiashi-sama. 

He reaches into the non-muddy of his two packs and pulls out a spare roll of bandages. Neji lobs the roll over his shoulder without looking. There's a pause where he doesn't hear them hit the ground, so she must have caught them.

“I…I, um, don't know how to–” Oh for Sage’s sake, has anyone taught her anything outside of the Academy? Even an orphan like Neji had shinobi to teach him to wrap his hands before boxing.

“Come here,” he snaps and his cousin hurries over. They sit in the grass. “I'm only showing you how to do this once.”

“thanks.”

“It's not a big deal,” he huffs, focusing on her hands. They're not as bad as they looked, only a couple knuckles split while the rest are bruised. Hopefully she'll spare herself a trip to a mednin while she's doing this stupid, useless training.

Hinata's quiet while he works, watching each motion intently. She's not stupid, Neji knows that, which makes her refusal to understand all the more incomprehensible.

Hinata's words echo through his head again: Why not try, in case you're wrong? That's ridiculous. He's not wrong. Why fight fate, when he'll never win? 

Why not try?

That's…hope is a dangerous thing. Neji's got no time for it.

•••

Asuma’s found that diplomatic instincts are like a funhouse mirror of shinobi ones. Ninja are trained from childhood to find the gap in an opponent’s armour and exploit it, to strike hard and fast and make sure the enemy doesn’t get up. It’s brutal. It’ll be part of every one of them till their bones are dust, but it’s brutal.

Diplomats are the same, they’re just aiming for less literal armour.

When shinobi are bored, they gossip to share information, and they plan compulsively for the worst, and they trade barbed insults that never come within shouting distance of where their comrade’s actual weaknesses lie. If someone accidentally hits too close to something real, or tensions rise too high, they spar and compete and blow off steam until everyone’s calmed down an hour later. It’s casual, and irreverent, and familiar.

When diplomats are bored, they aim as close to each other's sore spots as they can get, sharp comments circling closer and closer to insecurities like some perverse game of chicken that feels more dangerous than any stupid game Anko and Raidou have ever played with live steel. If someone gets close enough to the insecurity to draw emotional blood, there’s storming away and cold glares, and the occasional chair pulled out a little too forcefully. Sometimes the wronged party holds the grudge for a week or two. It’s choreographed, careful, proper. It’s sort of psychotic, sort of deranged from Asuma’s point of view. 

It’s the exact same thing, in many ways, but it’s rare that anyone spends enough time with both groups to get a feel for that.

Complaints from both sides are par for the course, and as the usual leader of these missions it often falls to Asuma to handle the conflicts. Shinobi with any sort of experience travelling don't generally tend to work well with diplomats. Asuma's generation – child soldiers raised to be the most efficient weapons possible in the shortest amount of time, and thus with very little diplomacy training – are worse than average. He's got plenty of experience soothing bruised egos and diffusing standoffs.

There are no standoffs on this mission. Not one diplomat’s pride has been injured.

Thing is, while Asuma’s fairly certain that Inoka and Shikami don't enjoy working with the diplomats any more than, say, Anko (Asuma shivers at the thought, trying to banish the memory of that mission), they're much better at hiding it. Maybe it's the long stint in espionage, maybe it's a knowledge of the diplomatic etiquette that most of their peers never had time to learn, but the diplomats seem to like the miracle pair.

A week on the road, four days of grueling treaty renegotiation in Frost to end up with damn near the same peacekeeping document they’ve had for the last decade, and two days into the return trip there still hasn’t been one confrontation.

This despite the way the two chunin have been strung tighter than a drawn bow since Jiraiya’s warning last week. Asuma still knows disconcertingly little about this ‘Akatsuki’ group, but he knows enough to know they’re very bad news. Nothing quite like seeing two people who more-or-less brush off a decade in hell tense up to send a chill down your spine.

It’s putting the diplomats on edge, certainly, but rather than the fights that would normally precipitate, they seem more worried for the pair than anything.

If there’s one bored activity that unites the two groups, it's games. In professions that rely on competence, with the weight of the village on their shoulders more often than not, there's a shared love of tests of skills. Cards are a bad idea – shinobi think cheating is a virtue while diplomats take offense to it – but chess, go, shogi? Shikami had their hearts from the first game of shogi in their Frost-sponsored lodgings, Asuma’s sure.

As for Inoka, despite apparent medical prowess she falls closer to florist than shrink on the Yamanaka scale of knowledge. She clearly doesn't savour it, but she's professional enough to make small talk about the sort of dainty things diplomats worry about. For her nigh-unshakable nature alone they've taken a shine to her.

The diplomats, barring their leader, have only a vague understanding of ‘higher than average nukenin activity in the area’ to colour the pair's tense behaviour. They're experienced professionals, it's unlikely to be the first time they've heard such a warning. Rather than annoyance at the increase in security, though, they're taking it in stride, not reacting beyond the occasional worried glance.

It's amazing, really, how fast an effort to get on someone's level can gain loyalty. Inoka and Shikami might not like the diplomats, but they're not rude. They're not condescending or dismissive, they remove themselves from tense situations rather than snap. Despite the thick tension in the air, in terms of inter-team cohesion Asuma's never had an easier mission.

They cross into Hot Water on the third day of their return, and Asuma breathes a short sigh of relief to be that much closer to home turf. He meets a rote complaint about blisters from Miyamura-san with lighthearted assurance that the end is in sight, and turns to exchange a relieved glance with Shikami.

Instead, the eyes that meet his are flat and tight at the corners. His body language is perfectly relaxed in a slouch, but the Nara is tenser than ever. Asuma picks up his pace a little until he's level with the chunin.

“Something I should be concerned about?”

“Not necessarily,” Shikami says, which isn't a ‘no’. They’re all clustered closer today, making the tradeoff for greater defence over further scouting. Inoka's outstanding sensing ability makes the tradeoff feasible.

“Oh?”

“Think we'll make it to Fire tonight?”

“Might do, but I'm not counting on it. We'll get close, I'd say.”

“Hm.”

“Not a fan of the Land of Hot Water?” That's surprising, it's largely a tourism economy these days. Yu's stopped taking commissions lately, started calling itself the ‘village that has forgotten wars’. Asuma's not stupid enough to think they're harmless , but they're generally not picking a fight.

“I'm not overly fond of some of the shinobi they produce.” Shikami slouches a little, and his eyes droop almost enough to hide the flinty darkness they've adopted.

These last couple weeks on mission, Asuma’s learned to read Shikami a bit better. When he's not training the pre-genin, the Nara is a closed book. He never seems anything less than alert, never answers a question he doesn't intend to, never shows off. There are tells there, though, just buried deep. Kakashi can read him somewhat consistently after a month of frequent contact, Iruka nearly as well, but Asuma still feels like he's cracking a cypher every time they interact.

Still, he's starting to piece it together. Shikami is never more tense than when he looks relaxed, the slouch more a battle stance than anything. He's never more focused than when he looks bored. When his eyes go dark and flat and unreadable, there's pain behind it and he's hoping the conversation will end. These pieces Asuma's fairly certain of, at least enough to drop this topic.

There are other parts, though, that he has yet to make sense of. Loose bits of information that Asuma’s sure mean something, he just doesn't know quite what. Shikami smokes for the smell as much as the hit of nicotine, for one example. For another, he's not jittery or fidgety, but he hates to be idle. They're things that Asuma’s known enough traumatised shinobi to know are meaningful, but he doesn't have the context to know why.

He has a better guess at what's going through Inoka's head – she's generally more willing to talk, so long as she can control the topic – but she's got some strange behaviours of her own. According to Kurenai, Genma's making more headway on figuring the Yamanaka out than anyone, so he'll leave it to the trained interrogator for now. Asuma's getting to know her a little better since this trip started and he takes that as a win.

“Won't have to camp in Hot Water more than one night,” Asuma assures Shikami, moving back into the safe territory of logistics.

“Good,” the Nara responds curtly, none of his usual deflecting with good humour. Asuma's loath to leave him alone when he's so clearly stressed. Alert is good on a mission – paranoid is not. He casts around for a topic to keep the conversation going without making things worse, hoping to calm Shikami's nerves.

“Hey…you got any tips on working with Ino-Shika-Cho? Pretty sure I'll get them after graduation.” It's almost guaranteed, really, given the generations of inter-clan cooperation.

Shikami shrugs, but he also relaxes minutely, so Asuma’s content to wait him out. “They're very smart.” Obviously, he's heard about the anti-Mizuki plot. He nods, expecting that to be the end of it, but Shikami is already shaking his head. “However smart you're thinking, they're smarter than that. All three of them. They've been trained to lead since birth. And they're so much more motivated than–” he cuts off abruptly, shaking his head. When he speaks again it's softer, more careful. “So much more motivated than you'd expect.”

“Sounds like they won't need me at all,” he teases

“ No.”   A sharp word followed by a long, shaky exhale. 

Asuma's not entirely sure where Shikami's head is at. Maybe he shouldn't have implied he was going to leave Shikamaru to his own devices, even as a joke. The elder Nara is very protective, even if he doesn’t admit it. At least he's sort of venting? That’s probably a good stress release. “I–”

“No, Asuma, of course they'll need you. They're kids. All I'm saying is treat them like they're competent. Treat them like they're smart and skilled, like I'm sure you were already planning to. You'll be fine.”

Despite the tense atmosphere and the stilted nature of the conversation, his teammate’s faith that he’ll do a good job with the trio still puts Asuma at ease. Inoka and Shikami haven’t been around all that long, yet, but he considers them friends – even more so after this couple weeks in constant company – and he values their opinions. That one of them takes it for granted that he’ll be a good sensei for the Ino-Shika-Cho trio is a bolstering thought.

“I appreciate–” Asuma’s cut off by a shrill alarm whistle from their resident sensor. He hurries to get in defensive position at one side of the pack of diplomats, trusting the chunin to take the other angles, but doesn’t quite reach them. Instead, he jerks to a stop against his will, and is thrown backwards just in time to avoid being impaled on a giant, flying scythe. 

A split second later Shikami is behind him, and he’s regained control of his movements – not his movements, Asuma realises, his shadow. Two seconds into the battle, and the Nara’s already saved his life. 

“Our fucking luck,” Shikami hisses as he passes, heading for his side of the defensive triangle.

There’s a familiar presence at the edge of the jonin’s mind, and he lets Inoka connect them.

“ What’s the situation?” he asks mentally.

“Welcome to the land of Hot Water, neighbors!” carols a young man, following the scythe out of the woods to land in front of the group of travellers.

“Akatsuki,” answers Shikami.

“ Hidan,” answers Inoka. “ Our fucking luck. ”

Chapter Text

“ Ino, how many?” Shikami asks, gritting his teeth against the knee-jerk panic of having Asuma and Hidan in the same place. He had to go and open his mouth about his dislike of Hot Water. Went and jinxed them. Damn it.

“Just one.” No Kakazu, then. Maybe before that pair was formed. Small blessing, though it means there’s no blood to ‘borrow’ from the multi-hearted bastard.

“ What do we know about this guy?” Asuma asks, trench knives crackling as raw chakra runs up and down the blade.

“He’ll be aiming for us, not the diplomats, keep your guard up.”

“What does he want?”

“Who knows?” Inoka growls. “A good fight, probably. Our slow, bloody deaths for Jashin.”

“Who wants to dance first?” calls Hidan, retrieving his scythe. “Come on, let’s have a volunteer to die for Jashin’s glory.” He’s out in the middle of the road, well clear of the shadows. Shika could maybe reach him, but it’s less than ideal. 

They stay clustered close around the diplomats while Hidan circles, doing his best to look threatening. The Jashinist has never been known for strategy, but he’s cocky enough to toy with his prey. Bad luck for him, Shikami’s a strategic genius, and he has no intention of becoming prey. 

“Don’t let him draw blood,” He tells Asuma. “If he gets your blood, you’re dead already.” Not technically, Shikami is working through a half-dozen contingencies for dealing with the ritual before it can take effect, if Hidan does get his hands on any blood. No time to get into semantics right now, though.

“Fantastic,” Asuma growls, “ any idea how to take him down?” They don’t have long before Hidan gets bored, and lashes out at random.

“How long do you need?” Ino asks.

“Fifteen seconds,” Shikami murmurs, tuning out the chatter in his head and shutting his eyes until there’s nothing to distract him. 

The Nara takes a deep, slow breath, letting himself fall back into the mindset of a strategic commander that comes so much more naturally than the patient chunin he’s been trying to be lately. 

He palms his own chakra blade to ward off the tick of his thinking pose. No need to connect himself to Shikamaru so transparently. Vaguely, he can hear Asuma filling the diplomats in on the basics of the situation at a whisper. He can hear Hidan’s taunts getting more impatient as he lashes out with the scythe, narrowly missing Inoka. That’s fine, all within the scope of expectation. He trusted this team to handle themselves when he was Nara Shikamaru, and he trusts them now.

Everything is under control. Ignore the gnawing fears, the past is the past. Banish doubt, the only thing that matters is this one plan. He lets the breath out, takes another. What will Hidan do? He’s unpredictable, but nobody’s got more experience fighting the Jashinist than Shikami does. What is an acceptable risk? Generally all three shinobi would be subject to reasonable risk in battle and be counted as full participants in a plan, especially against a near-immortal. Impractical in this case, Asuma in any degree of danger will make both time travellers less effective, and distract them to the point of fault. Best to consider Asuma as a protected party. Can’t discount him though, he's plenty competent, so keep him in a guard position.

What can Shikami and Inoka do between the two of them, then? Lots of ways to neutralise, to mixed success. Hidan’s strong and fast, and has a tendency to break out of shadow techniques. On the other hand, he’s never run up against Shikami’s shadows as they are now. One more breath in. A hundred hundred possibilities run through his mind, and he sorts them dispassionately into contingency after contingency. A few dozen plans crystalise, shatter, crystalise again stronger than before.

Shikami exhales, opening his eyes. “All right.” Hidan’s cussing Inoka out, having taken a senbon to the neck. It's far from enough to take him down, barely a bee-sting annoyance no matter how much deadly poison it's probably coated in, but he's a baby when the pain isn't self-inflicted.

“What's the plan?” the Yamanaka asks, dodging another swipe of the scythe.

“Asuma, defense. Prioritise distance. ”

“Got it,” The jonin agrees easily. One of his favourite things about Asuma is the lack of ego. Plenty of jonin would throw a hissy fit about a chunin telling them what to do, especially as the leader of a team. Even in the middle of battle. Not Sarutobi Asuma, he just adjusts his grip on his knives and shifts to be more directly between his charge and the threat.

“Ino, keep sensing up, Hidan’s not clever enough but I wouldn't put a surprise attack past some of the others. And stay ready.”

“Obviously.” He doesn't bother to fill her in further than that, Inoka's adaptability is more useful than having her exactly on task. Besides, they're long past the point of needing words to know what the other is going to do.

“And you?” Asuma asks, a grounding reminder that they're back at square one, before the jonin could read them with a glance.

“I'm going to piss him off.”

“What–”

“This is such a waste of time,” Shikami drawls with an exaggerated sigh, palming an explosive tag in his free hand as the nukenin turns his way. “Can you just move, man? Feels kinda mean to beat up a shinobi from a pacifist village.” Hidan, never one for critical thinking, goes red with rage without stopping to consider that it’s an obvious taunt. Not that the Nara is complaining. Hidan can go ahead and focus all of his attention his direction, that’d be great.

“You wanna die first, then, wiseass?” The scythe comes slashing towards Shikami, who dodges away from the group. 

The giant weapon arcs sharply to follow his path, and the chunin narrowly avoids being impaled as he ducks at the last second. The scythe sails onward and Shikami reaches up to grab the length of cable attached. It’s going fast enough to scrape the skin off of his palm and smear blood along the cord, but that’s fine. It won't be there long. Shikami secures the tag and lunges away, putting barely enough distance between himself and the explosive before activating it. 

It’s tempting to wait until Hidan draws the weapon back closer, to do some damage to the man with the explosion, but contrary to what his sister might say, Shikami isn’t actually that reckless with his own life. So he triggers the tag with plenty of clearance, and the explosion wipes away any trace of his blood from Hidan’s grasp, along with his method of controlling the unwieldy weapon.

So far, so good.

•••

Despite what Inoka might say within the safety of the village, her brother is not actually a reckless idiot. She reminds herself of this fact, when he allows blood to be drawn within the first attack after engaging Hidan. Sure enough, the blood is destroyed before it ever poses a serious threat. It doesn’t mean Shikami’s not still bleeding, with even a surface wound a major risk in a fight like this, but it’s worth it to limit Hidan’s manoeuvrability.

The shriek of inarticulate rage is particularly satisfying.

With Hidan distracted and Asuma on defense, Ino is comfortable enough to extend her sensing out further, skirting the border of Fire at the furthest edge, and scan for Akatsuki signatures. If Kakazu, or Itachi, or Obito is involved in this ambush, they need to know sooner rather than later – albeit for different reasons with each man. That she finds no trace of any other Akatsuki member is disconcerting in its own right, but not something there’s time to focus on that right now.

Inoka’s battlefield mindset centres around stripping her thought process down to the absolute essentials. Shikami can plan all he wants, Ino thinks best on her feet and has no time to waste on the swirling possibilities of outcomes and variables. Once upon a time, not very long ago at all, the enemy wore faces she loved and overthinking would have killed her. So she adapted. 

Hidan’s the only Akatsuki she can sense this side of Hot Water, it’s weird that he’s alone, but the reasoning isn’t important right now. In front of Inoka, there’s one enemy. Where the others are is slotted neatly into the ‘consider later’ portion of her mind.

Here’s what matters right now: Hidan is here, unharmed but with a damaged weapon. Shikami is bleeding. Asuma and the diplomats are alive. Her teammate – her brother, the smartest man Ino’s ever known – has razor-sharp calm in his eyes and he’s trying to get them an opening to strike. When the opening presents itself she will not miss her chance.

Shikami’s eyes are tracking the shadow of the scythe, but Hidan leaps to the weapon before the Nara can capitalise on the pool of shade the large weapon casts. Inoka could probably get the nukenin’s attention enough for Shika to grab his shadow, but there’s no guarantee how long it would hold. No point in them both trying to play distraction. So while she itches to take the heat off of him, she lets Shikami play his part. He’s always been better at close range. Ino’s always been a finesse ninja, an assassin more than a brawler.

Shikami ducks a punch, driving a shadow sharp as black glass through his opponent’s calf. There’s been no time to wrap his hand, but it’s not bleeding quite enough to stream, and Hidan has yet to catch him long enough to do anything about it. The Nara’s shadow wrenches free of his opponent, darting around to catch him from the back in a stab through the chest that would be fatal for anyone else. Hidan barely flinches, which is not enough of an opening to catch him off guard.

“What the fuck?” Asuma asks, presumably in response to the mortal wound the pesky bastard is walking off. She’d filled him in on the basics while Shika thought, but hearing ‘functionally immortal’ and witnessing it are two different things.

“Pain in the ass,” Shikami grunts through their link, substituting himself for a leaf at the last second to avoid a sweeping kick.

“Need a hand, Nara?” Inoka asks, knowing he'll say ‘no’ even as she asks.

“Don’t rush the right moment, Yamanaka, ” He warns. Much as she hates it, he’s right. She’s only going to get one shot at his head, before mental walls go up.

The battle continues, Inoka helping Asuma guard the diplomats and providing updates on Hidan’s position whenever he shunshins, waiting for her moment to strike.

But Shikami’s only human, and his opponent is more than. Eventually he slips up. 

Because she’s watching so closely, she sees the exact moment it happens. 

There must be a brain in there, somewhere behind the action-violence-crazy that makes him such a dangerous ninja to face, because even though Inoka’s sure Hidan has no interest in the physically weak diplomats – physically, but not mentally, as despite the situation they are not panicking and none have tried to break and flee. A couple are crying, but they’re doing so quietly – he’s started making attempts to reach them, just to see what Shikami does. One such attempt has Asuma deflecting that stupid, three-pronged scythe with nothing but trench knives. It shakes Inoka’s calm a little, and she knows it shakes her partner’s too. Knows because when Asuma manages to shove the nukenin away, Shikami hesitates a half-step too close.

Shikami has hit Hidan what must be dozens of times in a fight that feels like it’s been going for hours with the way time has slowed, and he has shaken off every single one. They knew he would, of course they did, only banking on an injury worth momentary distraction enough to rattle him. Hidan hits Shikami for the first time, a diagonal slash across the chest that cuts through his vest like butter. The force of the swing lands the Nara flat on his back, and before he can even regain his feet the Jashinist is licking the blood from the blade.

“Praise Jashin for this entertaining fight, I’ll make your death nice and slow,” Hidan cackles.

Inoka sees an echo of another fight in her mind’s eye, a battle she wasn’t a part of that ended in the first real loss she ever suffered. Then she sees red. Asuma's more than equipped to protect the group on his own.

A hail of senbon forces Hidan back, a snarling Yamanaka in his face forces him back further still. He wants to do his evil little ritual on one of them? He’d better decide which one real fast, because she’s not getting out of his face while he holds precious life in the balance like this. Yamanaka Inoka is hardly famous for her bukijutsu, but a good shinobi doesn’t have weak areas. She pulls out a standard-issue tanto, deflecting the scythe. She’s not thinking, acting on pure instinct to keep the Akatsuki member moving so he doesn’t have time to draw the damned ritual circle.

It’s not enough to stop him. Ino can barely keep Hidan away from Asuma, the diplomats, and Shikami while keeping her head on her shoulders. She prolongs the inevitable, hoping Shika can at least get his feet under him. Between the two of them, they could keep the Jashinist moving for a lot longer. Eventually, though, Hidan manages to keep her at a distance long enough to draw his circle. Shikami’s still prone, and she refuses to contemplate why that is. His chakra signature is still present, a glowing beacon she’d trust blind and deaf, and strong as ever. He’ll be fine or she’ll drag him back out of the pure lands herself, paradise be damned.

Hidan aims the blade of the scythe for his gut, a fatal wound – slow and painful, but fatal nonetheless. Inoka lunges, knowing she's too slow, just a hair too slow. But maybe she can minimize the damage, maybe she can–

The blade never reaches its target, hovering centimetres away from the soft flesh of the nukenin’s stomach. Hidan’s eyes widen in surprise, but without knowing what to look for it takes him too long to spot the irregularity in the shadows. A stuttering step backwards and for just a instant, he's out of the circle entirely.

Cocky, reckless genius, waiting until the last second to make his move.

Still, Inoka has her opening. She’s not careful, entering Hidan’s mind, not interested in preserving memories or understanding her opponent. She’s not interested in anything but utterly ruining the man who nearly just killed her Shika , who almost ripped away the only brother she has left to protect.

Inoka ignores all Yamanaka rules of safety for mind-transfer, trusts her skill enough to believe she can get out no matter how damaged the target’s mind is, and just starts tearing things to shreds. Hidan will pray for mortality when she’s done with him.

•••

Somehow, despite what Asuma had thought were incredibly high estimations of the miracle chunin, he’s been underestimating them.

You wouldn't know it, to see them sitting quietly by the fire.

Wouldn't suspect that one of them went toe to toe with an immortal, matching him blow for blow while keeping him away from their vulnerable civilian diplomats. That he's smart enough to pivot the moment he takes a hit, patient enough to wait until a sliver of a second before a wound that will kill him before executing his plan.

Or that the other was disciplined enough to stand calm and ready, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. That she's truly frightening when provoked. That Asuma’s clan has generations of close bonds with the Yamanaka, and yet he's never seen one do anything like what she did in that man's head. To have an immortal, a Jashinist who's supposed to relish pain begging her to stop with blood streaming from eyes and ears is–

Anyway, Hidan’s still not dead, technically, but he is in very small pieces with his head in a sealing scroll in Inoka's vest, so his status is more-or-less a moot point.

They pushed through to Fire country in the end, everyone too antsy to be on home turf after the events of the morning. The diplomats raised no complaints, except quiet inquiries about the state of the chunin. Shikami's still bleeding, though properly bandaged and as healed as their mednin could manage on the move, and Inoka's clearly at least low-level chakra exhausted. 

Asuma doesn't know how to explain to the diplomats that this is a good outcome. Between the three shinobi, at least one of them should probably be dead. Only one of them dead would actually be a relatively good outcome.

If Shikami hadn't known exactly how Hidan fought and planned accordingly, they'd all be dead. If there was one fewer ninja on this mission, if Asuma wasn't there to keep the bastard away from the group again and again, and drive him back towards the others, the diplomats at least would all be dead. If Inoka had anything but complete trust in Asuma to protect the diplomats while she went on the offensive, anything but total belief that Shikami would get back up, they'd all be dead.

Today could have been so, so much worse.

But the poor souls are traumatised enough for one day. Sure, things happen on the road, but surviving S-class nukenin was never in their job descriptions. Asuma leaves the diplomats to rest, expects to hear the sounds of nightmares tonight, and settles down by the fire.

The chunin – chunin. The technicality of that rank gets thinner every day with these two – have forgone their seats now to sprawl on the ground, maintaining at least one point of contact at all times. The shinobi aren't bothering to assign a formal watch just yet, might not at all. They're exhausted but none of them are sleeping tonight, not barely twelve hours out from a surprise attack.

“You all right?” Inoka asks, glancing up at Asuma as he sits down on a half-decent rock they found in the clearing. Obviously this has been a campsite before. The irony that she's the one asking, when he doesn't have a scratch on him, does not escape the team captain.

“Are you?”

“Absolutely not,” she snorts, looking back at the stars. “Closest to death you've come in a while?”

“Definitely.” It's been at least a couple years since one of his missions went this sideways.

Shikami's quiet, has been pretty quiet all day. He's Inoka's shadow, not leaving her side since the battle ended. Asuma had expected to hear more scolding from the Yamanaka. More complaints about recklessness and acceptable risks, like she never misses a chance to voice when they're safe within Konoha’s walls. More exasperated sighs and eye-rolls from the Nara half of the pair. Instead, there hasn't been a word about it. There's been constant proximity, and reassuring glances, and the occasional shaky exhale. It's haunting, more than the vocal reminders would have been. The somber closeness strips away the brave faces the miracle pair usually wear, leaving only a certainty that Shikami's life was on a razor's edge today. For Asuma, it reaffirms the bone-deep belief that today could have been worse.

If the shinobi sleep at all, the diplomats won't be the only ones with nightmares tonight.

“Remind me when we get back home to tell Genma never to piss you off,” Asuma teases, because he's worked with Anko enough to know people get insecure after particularly unsettling displays of power. Better to make sure she knows it's no big deal now.

Inoka has a good poker face, but it doesn't stop her ears from turning red. “I don't see what Genma has to do with anything.”

“Sure you don't.”

“Glass houses, Asuma-san,” Shikami's voice is soft when he speaks, careful and tired and somehow realer than his usual easy confidence. “You don't want to find out what sort of blackmail she's got on you and Kurenai.” Oh. Not a bad point.

“I don't see what Kurenai has to do with anything.” This, after a day of serious quiet, drags a crooked grin out of Shikami.

“Sure you don't.”

•••

The fire's down to coals by the time he checks on the group. 

Exhaustion has finally claimed the Nara, though the tossing and turning can't be good for that injury. Asuma's still sitting by the fire, eating trail mix from a bag and staring into the fire. Fair enough to have a lot on his mind after a rough fight. The Yamanaka is walking a lap of the perimeter, not quite able to calm down. Understandable. Obito’s not entirely sure how the fight played out, not willing to risk being present given what he's heard about the kunoichi's sensing ability. 

“Ino-chan's the strongest sensor in a generation” says an impossible voice, but the masked man ignores it. 

They're all still alive, better than last time (last time never happened), but any wound to her precious teammate would be enough to shake the Yamanaka woman into a sleepless night or two. He masks his chakra, tamping down his presence until it's barely more than a squirrel's, and watches the camp.

Hidan captured, as close to dead as the madman's able to get before starvation sets in. Is that a good thing? It shouldn't be, Akatsuki is weaker without him, it puts Tobi– Madara– Obito– It puts the man in the mask further from his…from the goal. 

“He killed Asuma,” reminds a voice that sounds just like the sleeping Nara below. It hurts, Asuma was a friend, never anything but kind even when Obito was a dead-last screw up. But he didn't, Asuma’s right there, unharmed. Why does Obito breathe easier knowing Hidan’s out of the picture, then?

Since the strangeness began with Kamui – Kamui, which he treats like an extension of himself. Kamui, that he needs to access to get closer to his vision. Kamui that's turned against that same vision entirely – Obito’s been looking for an explanation. Kakashi isn't tampering with it, like the Uchiha first assumed. His former teammate (not his best friend, and fuck what the voices have to say on the matter) doesn’t even seem to realise the pocket dimension exists. So he reluctantly turned to the voices for clues. Not to listen, or anything, not to trust, but for information. For the reason Kamui’s started to tell pretty lies, to explain away Kakashi’s cold-blooded murder of Rin ( “it was an accident, it was inescapable, it destroyed him” ) and show him flaws in the infinite tsukuyomi that can’t make sense, they can’t .

What he found was a pair of chunin with no records, appearing from nowhere with skills forged in the end of the world (the world hasn’t ended, and Obito certainly wouldn’t have played a part in it if it had). A coincidence, it has to be.

Except they had no way to know about Hidan, he’s only been Akatsuki about a year, and they were in Mist . Except they move, and talk, and fight like Asuma’s brats, like the last survivors of a war that hasn’t happened. It doesn’t make sense.

He sent them Hidan – a test? Or a chance to get rid of the people who the voices so desperately want him to protect? He’s not entirely sure – figuring that they had a better chance against him than any other member, with their experience (if they were really real) and assumed that would be the end of it. Proof that they’re not who they don’t say they are. Who the voices say they are.

“Your fault Shikamaru’s hurt,” says another voice, pink hair and a spine as strong as her fists. It doesn’t send a stab of guilt through the masked man. That’s not Shikamaru, Nara Shikamaru is eleven. The injured man is a stranger. He’s a stranger. Just, a stranger who can really think on his feet. And got lucky knowing about Hidan’s ritual. It can’t have been a test to send them Hidan, because it didn’t prove anything. It doesn’t prove anything, that the entire group survived an ambush from an immortal mass-murderer. It can’t prove anything, because if any of this is real, it destabilises every fact Tobi’s– Obito’s world is built on. It can’t–

The Yamanaka reaches the closest point along the barrier to where he’s hiding, idle scanning of the trees turning sharper. She mouths a name, an impossible name, and he flings himself back into Kamui before she can be certain. She’ll dismiss it as paranoia after the day she had, after what is probably hours of scanning reflexively for Akatsuki.

Obito lands on his hands and knees in Kamui, the voices suspiciously quiet as he rips off the mask. Why would she say that name? No random Konoha shinobi is identifying a half-noticed chakra signature as Uchiha Obito, a chunin who died well over a decade ago. He’s never met Yamanaka Inoka. How could she possibly know his name?

He tells himself again that it doesn’t prove anything, but…how can it not?

Chapter Text

Ichiraku Ramen isn't out of the way, exactly, so long as ‘the way’ is the path between the gate and the Hokage tower. Civilians tend to avoid this stretch of road, simply because of the much higher than average rate of returning shinobi. 

By and large shinobi returning from missions are no different than they are any other time. They're all sorts of troubled and haunted, but anyone who lives here is used to that. The thing is, if a mission went well and everyone is in fighting form, ninja travel by rooftop – and that's if they don't just go home. 

So if they're heading towards the tower on street level straight from the gate it usually means someone's dead. A client, a teammate, an unexpected assailant, an innocent. Most of these events leave the survivors some dangerous combination of injured, paranoid, jumpy, angry, and grieving. Civilians try to avoid running into that, when they can. It's best to avoid volatile trained killers unless you are, yourself, a trained killer.

Teuchi knew he was limiting his clientele when he set up shop here over twenty years ago, but Konoha is a shinobi village. A reasonable chunk of the population are ninja, the leadership are ninja, the culture is ninja. The shinobi are paid well enough to waste money on restaurants, and generally don't think they're too good to eat at a simple ramen stand. It seemed like a good demographic to target, when he was just starting out. And the rent was cheap.

He doesn't need the cheap rent these days, and the restaurant is established enough that he could move somewhere less prone to fights and medical emergencies without losing many regulars. Realistically, they'd probably do better business. Shinobi are loyal enough that they'd follow out to the civilian district where he could pick up a whole new demographic.

Teuchi doesn't move shop. Even on the worst days when there’s sobbing or shouting or he has to send Ayame running up to the hospital because someone’s refused to get their wounds checked and now they’re bleeding out on his floor, he doesn’t consider moving. He probably never will.

A location that started as a financial consideration has become something else entirely by now. Years of standing across a counter from bandaged wounds and clenched teeth and empty eyes have changed Teuchi. Have changed Ichiraku as a concept from a way to make a living cooking to a shinobi institution.

He won't leave, not when people find comfort here after hard days. It's not much, Teuchi doesn't delude himself into thinking a ramen stand makes a difference to the village as a whole but it makes a difference in someone's day every once in a while. That's reason enough.

All sorts are welcome, so long as they don’t start trouble. Naruto has been Ichiraku’s number one customer for most of his life, and he’s no exception. The little pariah doesn’t cause trouble, Ichiraku has never fallen victim to the infamous prankster. In turn, nobody bothers him here if they want to stick around.  For more than half a decade feeding Naruto has meant keeping a close eye on every other customer and putting up with the rudeness of a kind-hearted child who nobody bothered to teach manners.

Lately, though, it has meant that Ichiraku is becoming the go-to place to eat for a significant portion of the final-year academy class. Even now, Naruto’s in his usual seat with a stack of bowls in front of him, working on his fourth helping. Shino and Kiba are absent today, each busy with clan duties, but the Uzumaki is far from alone. Ino and Sakura are on his left, excitedly telling Ayame about the results of their latest chakra training while Shiranui Genma leans against the counter and pretends he’s not listening to the girls. To Naruto’s right are Choji and Shikamaru. Naruto and Choji are animatedly discussing their favourite ramen toppings, while the Nara eats quietly, nodding along when either of the other boys look at him. Kid looks happy enough to eat in relative peace, so Teuchi assumes the arrangement works well enough for all three of them.

It’s a nice night, mild and clear, and the kids seem to be in good spirits despite the tension hanging around the group. According to a visit last week from an exhausted Iruka, they've been little monsters since Inoka and Shikami's mission started a couple weeks ago. Well, Iruka was much more diplomatic about it, but he can read between the lines. Now the mission is four days late, and the pre-genin are anxiously simmering.

Teuchi is worried too – would give a limb for any of the people who let Naruto feel loved – but no more than he would usually be over a mildly late mission. Squads get delayed for all sorts of reasons, especially escort missions. When they hit a week late, then he'll be truly concerned.

But the kids aren't used to it, for the most part. Kiba has been handling it better than anyone, with his immediate family made up of active-duty mission-taking shinobi, but the rest of them aren't used to having a regular presence in their lives just disappear. Inoka and Shikami, especially, have been gone half as long as they were back. It's probably good for the pre-genin to get used to it now, before the people they're missing are each other, but Teuchi still hates to see them distressed. 

His daughter obviously feels the same, if the refills she's been sneaking Naruto are any gauge.

The chef doesn't know much about Shiranui Genma beyond his quiet affection for Naruto and his penchant for double noodles. He hasn't seen much of the man since he was a teen, but then he hasn't seen much of Kakashi either and the last Hatake has been in twice in the last couple weeks looking for Iruka's regular order. Maybe some wounds are starting to heal.

Either way, he doesn't know Genma well, but he knows the tokujo is a hell of a ninja. So when he stiffens just slightly and subtly shifts to look further down the street, Teuchi follows his gaze even as nobody else notices the shift. Because of this, he spots them long before he usually would. Long before the kids with their backs to the street.

A group is walking along the middle of the cobbled street. They're going a little slow for civilians, a near crawl by shinobi standards. There are eight of them in all. A half-dozen finely dressed civilians, probably diplomats. Sarutobi Asuma. And Nara Shikami.

No Inoka.

There are explanations for that. It doesn’t have to be a worst case scenario. But Teuchi's brain won't reach any but the most dire of conclusions at the moment, watching the slow procession. 

Escort missions begin and end at the gate. The diplomats will need to report immediately, but there's no reason for two-thirds of a ninja squad to be heading for the tower unless something went wrong. Still, he tries to stay rational.

Genma's reaction doesn't help. The punched-gut sound he makes won't be leaving Teuchi's mind anytime soon. Neither will the panic in his eyes.

The kids fall silent, focus lasered in on the tokujo. Academy training is easy to dismiss, shinobi do it all the time, but when the kids see the tension in Genma's frame they don't panic and they don't ask questions. Three of them palm weapons, and all five look ready for a fight. At the same time, Shikami glances up and sees all three adults staring through the window. Even from a distance, Teuchi can see that neither shinobi has been sleeping much. Shikami is walking gingerly, favouring his left side

Teuchi doesn't know much shinobi sign, has no idea what Genma signs as he locks eyes with Shikami, or what he signs back. The tokujo disappears before he can ask. “Please let that mean ‘hospital’,” he murmurs to Ayame as the kids go streaming out to Shikami. She’s clutching the counter in a white-knuckled grip.

Naruto reaches the group first, several diplomats shy away but freeze under the quelling glares of three clan heirs and a former guardian ninja. And Sakura, she’s sort of scary in her own right. The orange-clad boy runs headlong into Shikami, not even seeming to notice the strangers’ fear for once. What he certainly does notice, though, is the Nara flinching when he makes contact. There’s a half-step backwards as Naruto tries to dial down his enthusiasm, before being stopped by a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“Mind the bandages, kiddo, someone tried to air out my lungs this week and I’d really rather not test fate.” Naruto tenses up even further upon hearing of the injury, but he’s not trying to back away anymore. 

Ino arrives a couple seconds after Naruto, latching onto her almost-cousin a little more carefully but with no less intensity. She’s shaking violently, face buried in Shikami’s tattered vest, and the chunin stares at her for a beat too long before his eyes widen in realisation. Concussed, if Teuchi had to guess. Shikami is usually pretty quick on the uptake. 

“Hey,” he corrals the kids back towards the ramen stand and out of the middle of the street. “Breathe, Ino-chan, she’s all right.” Ayame lets out a shaky breath, and Teuchi puts a comforting arm around her shoulders. She’s got a soft heart, his little girl. A kind heart, a stubborn one, but not one built for grief. Ayame would have made a terrible ninja, for which Teuchi is grateful every day.  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It should have been the first words out of my mouth. Please don’t cry, I’m so bad with the crying.” Ino doesn’t look up, but her watery giggle is still audible. “There we go, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” the Yamanaka heir says something, rendered entirely unintelligible by her refusal to stop clinging so close. “What’s that?”

“Where’s Inoka-san?” Shikamaru interprets, serious eyes fixed on Ino.

“Ah, she’s pretty chakra exhausted so she went to the hospital. She’ll be home tomorrow, if I had to guess.”

“And you’re hale and healthy?”

“Obviously not, Shikamaru, but I’ve been checked out by a mednin, Ino can’t exactly examine herself objectively, so: hospital.” he pats each of his hangers-on on the head. “Now, some jackass tried to kill us on allied land, so I’ve gotta go talk to the Hokage. Can I come back and meet you here in like 45 minutes? I'll take you to see Inoka if there's time.” Shikamaru sighs, slouching back onto his stool.

“You work too hard.”

“Yeah, yeah.” very slowly, Naruto and Ino detach themselves from the injured man.

“You’re coming back, though?” Naruto asks quietly. The diplomats, waiting with uncharacteristic indulgence a little bit further up the road, probably can’t reconcile the nervous boy with the monster he’s portrayed as. If they’re not careful they might just learn something.

“Shouldn’t you go home and rest?” Sakura asks. “If you’re injured you’re meant to take time to recover after a mission.”

“Thank you, future mednin, but I can manage a light walk.” He actually sort of looks like he’s going to keel over, but Teuchi doesn’t call his bluff.

“If you’re sure,” Choji frowns. “Not that we don't want to see Inoka-san, but…”

“I’m sure.” He turns carefully, heading over to where the rest of the group is waiting.

“You know, I’m pretty sure Iruka’s still looking for an assistant teacher, since the pre-genin are clearly so attached to you,” says the team captain with a playful grin as they continue their procession towards the Hokage tower.

“Oh shut up, Asuma.”

Shinobi walking up this stretch of road is rarely a good thing, but that particular group is going to be all right.

…

Inoka has been alone in the hospital room for about three minutes when somebody (something?) almost runs into her window. 

The blurry shape resolves itself into a person coming out of a miscalculated shunshin, then eventually clarifies into a sheepish Genma. He's sort of adorably embarrassed, blushing down his neck when he sees her alert, sitting up, and staring right at him. 

He throws himself backwards into another shunshin and she thinks that's likely to be the end of it. Not abnormal to need to see that someone's safe with your own eyes. Inoka's been that person, and she's worked in the hospital enough to know she's far from the only one.

The Yamanaka lays back on the bed and stares at the ceiling, drained but basking in the feeling of being back within the village. She's more out of it than she thought. The profound chakra loss from treating Hidan’s psyche like a rage room and pulling herself out of the wreckage when she was done has taken a continual toll, compounding with several sleepless nights into a mildly mind-melty case of chakra exhausted. Everything is indistinct at the edges, including her emotions, and according to Shikami she's been starting to slur in the last couple hours. 

She's had it much worse, of course, when chakra exhaustion was more a way of life than a diagnosis, but by current standards it's still well into the severe category. 

They're keeping her overnight for observation, just until she stops bleeding chakra. It's not a concern, she'd about expected that when she decided to ignore generations of cautionary tales about mind-transfer guidelines in favour of destroying a man utterly. Her pathways are damaged but not in a way that requires anything but rest to fix, a small sacrifice to pay for neutralizing Hidan.

It’s not entirely clear how long she lies there. Time is slippery and elastic right now, a concept just out of the realm of understanding but still close enough to see in the distance. Regardless of how long it takes, though, eventually there’s a knock at the door and Genma pokes his head in.

“Feeling up to company?” He asks, tone uncharacteristically serious. Inoka nods, pushing herself up on her elbows. “Hey, hang on, shouldn't you be resting?”

“I think I can manage to sit up.”

“I– Right. Yeah, right. Of course, you're the mednin. You'd know.” He enters the room more fully, waving a bouquet awkwardly. She recognizes the paper, has wrapped hundreds of bouquets in it, and is entirely sure he didn't have that at the window.

“Genma?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you go buy me flowers?” He won't meet her eyes as he shrugs, offering her the bouquet.

“Figured you might want something from home?” Which is unbelievably sweet. So sweet she might tease him for it, if his hand weren't shaking as he held out the flowers. She lets it go and just smiles a tired smile.

“You okay?”

“Pretty sure that's my line, you're the one in the hospital bed.”

“And yet.”

“I'm fine.”

“Don't lie to me.” She's maybe less tactful than she should be, with a man she's really only known for a month for all she'd crossed paths with him in the future-past. Shinobi are private about their emotions, generally, at least the negative ones, and it's both rude and presumptuous to push. 

But the exhaustion (chakra and otherwise) is loosening her tightly controlled filter. She's got a blind need for Genma to know that whatever is freaking him out, he can trust her. It's not fair, too much to expect no matter how many cheeky comments Asuma makes about the two of them. He came and brought her flowers, which is worlds more than he needed to do.

Genma doesn't close up or leave, he just quietly arranges the flowers in a plastic cup they left her for water, and slumps into a chair by the bedside.

He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Thought you were dead for a second, that's all.”

“What?”

“Asuma and Shikami, dead on their feet and headed for the tower without you? I thought you were dead. Stupid conclusion to jump to, people get injured all the time but I–”

“Hey,” she pats his arm clumsily. “I'm not dead.”

“I know. I…now I know. But you asked me not to lie. Here I am. Not lying.”

“Thank you.”

“How did you end up chakra exhausted on a nonclassified C-rank?” Genma doesn't ask the question with his usual bored drawl, instead his voice is soft and serious. He's usually so good at deflection. Always turning the attention somewhere else. He does it often enough that even out of it as Inoka is, the absence is jarring.

“Ran into some trouble.”

“C-rank curse kinda trouble?”

“Likely classified kind of trouble.” He whistles, long and low, and nods.

“Guess I should be more glad you're alive than worried about the hospital stay, then?”

“Hm,” her eyelids are getting sort of heavy and Inoka leans back into her pillows until she's only half sitting up. “You have no idea.” Could have been her death just as easily as it was once Asuma's.

“Doubt I'm going to get a better one either.” Probably not, no reason to make the jonin corps jumpier with that sort of near-miss story. Genma's clever, though, the state of their team and the presumed classification are plenty enough for him to paint a deadly picture of the trip. He laughs a quiet laugh that's almost entirely free of wavering. “You have brutal mission luck.”

“We're bound to catch a break eventually.”

“Statistically, you've gotta get an easy mission soon.” Inoka nods her agreement as a nurse pokes his head in the door to inform them that visiting hours are ending. “Shit. Right, I'll let you rest. Sorry to show up with no warning and–” 

He's out of the chair and moving towards the door even as he talks, but Ino grabs his wrist before he can make his guilty escape. “Genma.”

“I…yeah?”

“Thank you for the flowers. Thanks for coming to check on me.” 

She doesn't thank him because he's overthinking, or because of the maybe-possibly-something that's been growing between them lately. Or not just for those reasons at any rate. She thanks him because there are other people who should be here checking in after a rough mission, and their ghosts weigh heavier than usual with Inoka's mental guard lower from the exhaustion. She thanks him because with Shikami already in the know, everyone who should be here is gone. And yet she's not alone. Genma is here.

The tokujo's blush returns, subtler this time but still present. 

Before he can formulate a response a handful of belligerent pre-genin are barging in, Shikami in their wake promising the nurse that they won't be long. Genma flees out the window and Inoka sets about assuring the kids that it's nothing terminal.

When the kids are ushered out by kind but firm hospital staff not ten minutes later and the room descends back into silence, she finds her gaze drawn back to the flowers. Proof that someone was there. Not the kids whose lives she's more or less inserted herself into, but a peer. Someone who's seen plenty of people hurt, but still cared enough to check on her. Just because he cares.

They're nice flowers.

Chapter Text

It comes to him in flashes. Always in flashes. First they’re walking to the meeting – more like running, really. They were late for one reason or another, he knows that much. She could never stand for the lateness after years of putting up with Kakashi’s. So they’re half running, and Shikamaru’s being dragged along by the hand.

Her hands are as caloused as any self-respecting shinobi’s in the spots where a kunai or a shuriken has been gripped a thousand thousand times, and scarred from years of being her primary weapon. They’re swollen at the knuckles from the repeated motions medical ninjutsu demands and the lack of proper rest between use. He knows they hurt constantly, though she’ll never say. In every conceivable way and some he has yet to wrap his head around, Haruno Sakura is the strongest person he’s ever met. In just as many ways, he loves her.

He memorises every millimetre of her hand where it touches his. He never sees her face.

Then they’re entering the tent that’s serving as a war room, at least until it’s wiped off the face of the planet less than a day later and takes four people with it. He never learns their names. In this moment, though, it’s occupied by familiar people. Their backs are turned, looking out the far side of the tent at something he doesn’t remember. They’re laughing. Shikamaru doesn’t remember why, but they’re laughing and it’s so preciously rare an event in the end times that the two late arrivals are drawn into the mirth for a stretching moment. It doesn’t matter why they’re laughing, only that they are. The ends of Choji’s hair are singed from a near-miss the day before. Naruto’s got one arm around the Akimichi’s shoulders, holding himself mostly upright even as he laughs so hard he bends at the waist. They don’t turn around. In the flashes they never turn around, though they must have, once.

A couple hours later there’s an argument that isn't loud but it’s vicious. Sakura hasn’t pulled punches since she was a genin, and Shikamaru’s never been good with knowing when to back down. She’s whip smart, but strategising for how to combat a diety falls on his shoulders, and he’s not willing to change the plan for her concerns. He doesn’t look up from the map once in the whole fight, though that’s certainly not the way it happened.

Sakura’s worried his plan leaves Ino-Shika-Cho too exposed. He tells her they’re out of options and she suggests a plan that puts team seven in jeopardy. He shoots it down outright. They’re too important. They’re too important. He’s been prepared to die with Ino and Choji at his side since their first chunin exams. They’re too important too, but his back’s against a wall. People are starving. They need supplies. 

They’re talking past each other, each desperate to keep the other safe in a world that’s already ended. Emotions are running too high, and neither of them mean half of the things they say. He doesn’t think she’s a coward. She doesn’t think he’s heartless. Neither of them thinks the other wants to die. 

Chaos breaks out before there’s time for things to be taken back. Someone’s dying in a dingy cave that’s serving as triage, and they need the head medic. She’s still there when the fighting resumes.

He puts team ten in danger, just like Sakura begged him not to. It doesn’t kill him, like he’d been accounting for, but it does kill Choji. A split second. Shikamaru is on his back on the ground. There's blood in his eyes from a head wound, and he can feel it pooling on the ground from a hole in his shoulder. He's trying to get to his feet, while Choji and Ino crowd protectively around him. Then a shard of cursed bone clips Cho's shoulder, just catching enough to break through the armour, and Shikamaru’s brother is a pile of ash. He sees his face, then, finally. There’s fear in his eyes. It’s the last glimpse of Choji he ever gets.

No time to mourn in battle, so he shuts it out. Ino’s still alive and Shikamaru manages to stagger to his feet. Kaguya wasn’t supposed to be here. For all Sakura called the strategy reckless, he’s not suicidal. She hit the western flank, better defended and better armoured. They just needed to get the supplies. People are starving. The western flank must have fallen, and fast. Gaara– no time to mourn in battle.

Dying out there won’t feed anyone, so they retreat. They run. They leave Choji’s ashes behind.

Where does Sakura come from? They’re running, and Ino’s half-dragging him and his shoulder is screaming but Kaguya’s turned her attention elsewhere for a moment. A hundred scraps of resistance are fighting across the world, and she's toying with every one of them. Then Sakura’s there, throwing his other arm over her shoulder without a word. They almost make it to safety. Someone’s carved tunnels into the earth, and even though it won’t keep the enemy off their back long, it’ll buy some time. Time enough to regroup, to form a scattered plan. Time enough to travel backwards through it. 

They almost make it.

A wet squelch, blood goes everywhere and Sakura’s dead before she hits the ground, with a gaping hole from a Zetsu’s reaching tendril through her skull. He can see it, finally, what’s left of her face.

•••

Shikami wakes silently. 

He used to scream when he was a kid, but that kind of thing is deadly in the field. If Shikami screamed every time he had a nightmare, he’d have gotten the whole team killed. Instead he learned to keep quiet and only got half of the team killed.

It’s good to be home, back within the illusion of safety that the Nara wards provide, but it’s doing nothing for his quality of sleep. For one thing, every time he’s closed his eyes before this latest terror, he’s fallen into a moment where he’s a teenager and the war hasn’t truly started but that does nothing for the way Asuma’s bleeding out in his arms. For another, every hour on the hour either Shikaku or Yoshino has been shaking him awake to do a concussion check and nearly getting a shuriken through their throat for their trouble.

So it’s been kind of a long night, and Shikami wishes he could say that a change of nightmare scenery was welcome, but of course it is not. Never is, no matter how he clings to every moment, trying to engrain the final glimpses of his loved ones into his psyche.

He considers the disastrous battle as he fights to get his breathing under control. Compares it to the close call of their last mission. He's got to stop almost dying on Ino before she kills him herself.

Shikami's head is pounding, and he's not going to manage any semblance of restful sleep tonight between the nightmares and the babysitting. He gets up instead, padding out into the hallway in socked feet and comfortable sleep clothes.

The first person he encounters is the very man he's been successfully avoiding for almost two months. Good to see his luck has returned to normal. Things have been going too well lately.

He's alone in the dark of the front room, looking out the window at the compound beyond. It's past midnight, but only just, meaning the Nara compound is still active though people are starting to wind down. It’s not an unheard of time for guests, especially not ones who have any respect for Nara life, but it's got to be pretty late on Choza’s end.

Shikami could still turn around, though he's not naive enough to think the clan head hasn't noticed him. He could go out the back door, have a smoke or go check on Ino or just stare into the trees until the darkness swims. He could go back to bed.

He can't avoid the man forever. Or, he could, but he won't. They'd mourned Choza too, once. Shikami enters the room.

Choza, in a mercy that's probably more than he deserves, doesn't acknowledge him until he sits. Gives him time to walk right by, like that's something he would do.

“Long week, Shikami-kun?”

Shikami's laugh is bitter and grating and not at all fair to turn on his uncle. It's all he has left to give tonight. “Long year.”

“So I've heard.” the Nara nods, staring out into the night. A couple of younger academy aged kids are throwing shaky kunai at a target beside the house across the way. At some point in the next year or two the girl is going to put a shuriken through the window. They're a year younger than Konohamaru. They were fresh genin when they died. “Shikaku just stepped out, if he's who you're looking for. Something about a supply issue.” The joys of leading the clan, but at least Shikaku has enough to feed his people.

“Sure, thanks.” He keeps watching the window, cataloguing everyone who goes past. Are they injured? Are they eating enough? Is anyone sick, or overtired, or burnt out? Will one of them die this week and if he tries hard enough can he remember the details? Can he prevent it?

Choza is watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he's pretending not to. Shikami should be putting better effort into this conversation. He should be pulling the shards of his mask back together and reassuring the man. It's the least he can do. But he can’t fucking do it.

Shikami is good at masks. Years as a soldier, years in leadership, decades of shogi, and a lifetime of clan heir training have made sure of that. He usually puts up one front or another, though the default is shifting lately from cocky and bored to calm and attentive the more time he spends around the kids. That level of composure feels impossible tonight. Every flicker of light through the window sends shooting pains through his head and every breath sets his punctured lung aching. Ino’s in the hospital, and Asuma’s alive but out of sight. Choji’s dead, Sakura’s dead, Naruto’s dead. Everyone’s fucking dead, and they’re alive, and they never will be again.

He would still try, if it were someone else, but this version or not, Choza helped raise him. He grew up with Shikaku and Yoshino both. For a while there, when he was little, the Akimichi could read Shikamaru better than either of his parents. Shikami’s changed, sure, but not enough to fool Choza. Not when his defenses are this low. He won’t insult him by trying.

So he just skips pleasantries “Why are you here?”

“Just making the rounds, checking in on family.” if the bluntness bothers him, he doesn’t show it. “You freaked them out, you know, coming back late like that.”

“I noticed. Yoshino sent me to bed at nine like a pre-genin.” 

Choza chuckles. “She worries.”

“I know.”

“They all worry about the two of you, you know.” he leans in a little and lowers his voice like it’s a secret that four of the most powerful people across two clans watch him like he might shatter.

“I know.”

He leans closer still – though he’s clearly consciously outside of Shikami’s personal space – and whispers, “they think they’re being very sneaky about it.” it’s stupid, and goofy, and Shikami is suddenly utterly certain of how Choza wore down surly genin-aged Genma. He cracks a tiny smile.

“Yeah, Choza-jii, I know.”

They lapse into silence. The kids across the way are herded inside. A fawn noses curiously at the fresh kunai marks in the tree next to the target. Choza gets up and comes back with piping hot tea. Yoshino’s asleep and Shikaku’s still out, but every member of Ino-Shika-Cho is more family than guest in this house anyways. Shikami does not speak, does not move, but he accepts the cup when it’s pressed into his hands.

“Peppermint?”

“Good for concussions.”

“Yeah?”

“Helps with the headache. And the nausea.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.” The moon is high, and all over the compound lights are finally flickering out for the night. Shikaku’s not back yet, but it hasn’t been quite an hour since Shikami was last shaken awake, so he can’t have been gone that long.

“I’m sorry,” Shikami murmurs into the quiet of the night. Choza sighs, he doesn’t pretend not to know what the Nara means. He crosses the distance he’s been so carefully keeping, then, an arm coming to rest around Shikami’s shoulders – light enough that he could pull away, solid enough to be comforting. “I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” he makes it sound so simple, but he’s wrong. Of course he’s wrong.

“It was.”

“It was war, Shika, people die. He knew the risks.”

“It was my plan.”

“You can’t control everything.” Choza doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t harden his tone, doesn’t move away. Shikami’s head is spinning. It’s pounding and fuzzy and too full of cotton from the concussion to rationalise enough to calm down. He tries to take a deep breath and it sounds more like a whine in his own ears and it hurts where it tugs at his chest.

“I got him killed.” he whispers. He might be shaking, it might just be the dizziness. “I killed them. I killed them, I–” Choza’s grip on his shoulders tightens, dragging him closer. Shikami can feel the tug of scar tissue where a hole in his shoulder once cost him two of the people he loved most. His uncle puts a steadying hand on his forehead and forces him to meet his eyes.

“Choji would hate to see you do this to yourself,” it’s barely whispered, but it doesn’t need to be loud to break something in Shikami. He draws a ragged breath, buries his face in Choza’s shoulder, and sobs.

Chapter Text

Naruto does not want to be up this early.

He’s got it down to a science, waking up twenty-seven minutes before first bell rings is enough time to wake up, brush his teeth, grab one of whatever fruit of the week Iruka-sensei insisted he buy for breakfast, and make it to the academy with enough time to find his seat, say hello to his friends – friends! After all this time – and still have time to laugh when Kiba runs in just shy of being late.

Instead he’s up, dressed, out of the apartment, and halfway across town almost an hour before class starts, waiting at the gates of a compound where the sole resident can’t even be bothered to let him in. It’s a pain all around, but he did promise Inoka-nee he’d come, and he wants to be as helpful as possible while she’s hurt. He wants to be as helpful as possible always , if it’s for the people who actually talk to him like he’s a person, but especially while they’re hurt. (He wants to help the others, too, but most of his friends seem to have it figured out, and he’s still not sure how to help Kakashi-san-who-lost-everyone, and Iruka-sensei’s given him strict instructions not to prank or fight Hinata’s dad)

So Naruto stands, waiting, at the gates to Uchiha compound. For half an hour. Three minutes before Naruto usually wakes up, Sasuke shows his face. Typical. And he’s already scowling.

“What do you want?”

“Inoka-nee sent me with a message.”

“Oh, she’s still alive? The way you were all freaking out this week I figured she was dead or something.”

“That’s stupid, of course she’s alive. She’s super strong.” and if Naruto thought, maybe, when Shikami-nii came back alone and Genma-san disappeared that she might not be coming back at all, that’s none of Sasuke’s business.

“Whatever. If she’s so strong why didn’t she come herself? She said she’d tell me when she got back.” Sasuke shoves his hands in his pockets and starts walking towards the academy.

“Well, she’s in the hospital, asshole. What? I’m not a good enough messenger or something?” Naruto told Inoka that Sasuke wasn’t going to like him coming by, but she was sure it’d be fine.

“She’s hurt?” Sasuke's eyebrows raise in what could almost be mistaken for worry, on a less surly face.

“Yeah, kinda. Or she’s, like, super tired, actually. That’s what the mednin said, she tired herself out.”

“Oh.” he doesn’t exactly sound concerned, for someone who was expecting Inoka to check in herself. “So she’s chakra exhausted.”

“Right, yeah, that’s the word! How’d you know that?”

“I have a brain, idiot.” Naruto scowls, but Sasuke keeps going before he can protest. “What did she want you to tell me, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, that she’s back, mostly. She’s back and she said she’ll meet you to train tomorrow since she’ll be out of the hospital. And…well…”

“That she’s going to throw more rocks at me if I didn’t meditate?” Sasuke guesses, rolling his eyes.

“Pretty much, yeah? When did you start training with Inoka-nee?”

“None of your business. Did you really stand around waiting for like twenty minutes just to say one sentence?”

“If you knew I was here, then why’d you let me stand around, eh?”

“Figured you were going to pull something. Why didn’t you just come to the big house if it was important?” What? Why would he do that?

“You're not supposed to enter clan spaces without permission.” Shikami has been very clear on this point. Clan spaces are sacred and full of history and tradition and stuff, and people should never enter without permission because it's super rude. And also because clan wards can be super dangerous to outsiders. Naruto was kinda skeptical at first, but once Shikami pointed out that he wouldn't want anyone wandering through his apartment he got the idea pretty quick.

Sasuke scoffs. “Doesn't stop anyone else from cutting across our lands.”

“What, why?”

“Forget it. You told me your thing, why are you still following me?”

“I'm not following you, I'm just going to school. Not my fault we're going the same place. And why are people cutting across your lands?”

“Who cares?”

“You don't?”

“What does that matter, dumbass?”

“They're your lands, right?”

“Sure, technically. Why are we still talking about this?” Because Naruto's curious, mostly. Curious about how clan rules work. Curious about why the Uchiha wards don't stop trespassers like Shikami said. Curious why Inoka's bothering to spend time with the rudest kid in their class in the first place. He's already better than everyone anyway, what does he possibly need help with?

“Dunno. Just doesn't make sense.” He's still not super comfortable admitting when he doesn't get something. There's a little itch in his skull telling him to pretend he's got it figured out entirely. But he spends enough time around the Nara these days to have gotten used to being way out of his depth in a conversation, enough time around the Akimichi to know it’s no big deal to just ask, and enough time around Shino to know a hundred different ways to phrase a question.

Sasuke sighs a long-suffering sigh and shrugs without taking his eyes off of the road ahead of them. “The wards are busted, and it's the fastest shortcut to the training grounds on the far side of the river. People cut through all the time. Happy?”

“I mean not really. That's pretty rude, right?”

“Aren't you supposed to be all about pranks? Aren't those ‘pretty rude’?”

“Sure but I never broke into someone's house .” He did cut across the Inuzuka lands a couple times, but he didn't know that was wrong until recently and Kiba’s mum says it's fine so that barely counts. “Can't you get someone to fix your wards?”

“Nobody wants to fix the Uchiha wards, Naruto ,” he snarls the name, which is less common than it used to be lately, but still stings. Something about it is…off…though. The anger seems genuine enough, when he says his name, but it also sounds kind of defensive. Naruto knows defensive anger, he’s an expert at it after years of yelling back at shopkeepers, but he’s not used to it being quiet like that. He wouldn’t have noticed it at all, but he’s still trying to think through what Shikami said about Kakashi destroying that training ground. So where normally he would snap back, Naruto stays quiet. “Waste of time to fix security when no one lives there,” Sasuke eventually mutters into the resulting silence. It doesn’t make any sense, and this time Naruto has no problem saying so:

“That's stupid. You live there.”

Sasuke’s silent for a while, and Naruto figures he's sick of the conversation until he says: “Hn, doesn't matter. I just have to stay ready.”

Sounds exhausting. Naruto lives alone, too, but he's got all sorts of traps rigged up in case someone tries to break in. Maybe he could set up some traps for Sasuke’s house? The Uchiha definitely wouldn't appreciate his hard work, but it'd be good practice and maybe Sasuke would be less rude if he could sleep without one eye open.

Maybe he could…he doesn't know really anything about it, but the Uzumaki are supposed to have a specialty and he has been trying to learn as much as he can about what should be his own clan. Maybe he could learn a bit of fuinjutsu, just enough to fix Sasuke’s clan defenses. Not that he cares, obviously, but it'd be good practice. Plus, it'd be just as satisfying as a well-timed prank to watch someone smack into the wards for the first time.

…

It’s been a good day. The pre-genin are a bit calmer now that some of them have seen their favourite chunin pair are back and mostly all right. Shikamaru slept through most of the day, which is a rarity lately, but Iruka figures he can let that slide this once since the kid’s had a stressful week. Naruto and Sasuke entered together, which is a new one even by the standards of Naruto’s new social life. Overall, though, the day’s been a return to form. They even got through the entire day’s lesson plan for a change.

Iruka himself does not encounter either of the miracle chunin until halfway through his missions desk shift that evening, when Shikami comes in. Iruka's the only one working, since Tuesday evening shifts aren't exactly lively. Most reports are due at the end of the week after the mission ends, so things get busier as the week goes on. As such, they're the only ones in the office when Shikami approaches the desk and leans gingerly on the front. The Nara looks exhausted, eyes distant and heavily shadowed.

“Welcome back.”

Shikami flashes him a grin and the exhaustion seems to fade a little. “Good to be back, Iruka-kun. Sorry, I hear the kids were a handful.” He would be worried, of all people, about whether or not Iruka had to handle a couple of hyper-active children while he himself was being injured in the field.

“It’s good for them to learn how to work through worry, honestly. They’re not always going to know where everyone is when they’re on missions.” 

“Guess not.”

“You could have tried not to get yourself so beaten up the first time you leave, though. Eased them into it a little.” It’s not a terribly strong attempt at a joke, given how rough the man looks, but it still earns a laugh.

“I’ll keep it in mind in the future.” Shikami reaches into his vest, pulling out a pair of scrolls. “Speaking of which, mission report, and an intelligence report for the Hokage.”

“Most people take at least twenty-four hours to breathe before writing their mission report, you know. I doubt I’ll see Asuma’s report for at least a week.” He takes the scrolls as he speaks, but doesn't realise what he's holding until he glances down and sees an S-rank report for Shikami's C-rank mission. “Oh.” Suddenly the men’s injuries and Inoka's hospitalization seem less like the price of doing business and more like a nearly avoided tragedy. “what happened?” He asks, even though it's obviously far too classified for Shikami to say out loud in the middle of the missions office. The office is deserted right now, but better safe than sorry.

Shikami just shrugs, nodding towards the report. “Curse struck.”

Iruka unfurls the scroll, checking over the summary. Technically he doesn't need to read the whole report, just make sure relevant sections are filled out properly and file it. But there's no rule saying he can't read it, so long as he has the requisite clearance and nothing's labelled for the Hokage’s eyes only. At the end of the day, Iruka has S-rank file clearance, and this is an S-rank file. 

He glances up after the truly harrowing summary to find Shikami has come around the back of the desk and is slumped in the empty chair beside him.

“You know that's breaking protocol.” Shikami blinks at him, eyes squinted against the offense of the overhead light.

“Technically it's not. I'm fully qualified to be back here.”

“You're not working today.”

“I can be, if someone comes in while you're ‘processing’ my report.”

“There's absolutely no way you're medically cleared to work.” Iruka scans the summary again, double checking that he read it right. “Matter of fact, how are you not hospitalised?”

“Calm down,” Shikami murmurs, leaning back. “Stab wound’s past the risk of infection and it's only a second grade concussion. I can file a couple reports.” 

Iruka rolls his eyes and lets the matter drop. Sometimes he finds he has to remind himself to get out of teacher mode with his friends – especially as he sees more and more of Shikami, Inoka, and Kakashi between the kids and the mission desk and whatever it is the Hatake is playing at lately – or he ends up fussing over them. He's still getting used to spending more time with not-children.

“This is a very long report, you know.”

“There was a lot to cover.”

Given the section on Jiraiya sneaking up on a mission and offending the diplomats alone is roughly the length of a normal report, Iruka has to agree. It's also not what he was worried about.

“When did you even sleep ?”

“Didn't sleep, not allowed to sleep more than an hour at a time.” Ah, right, the concussion. Still, he should have been able to get some sleep, concussion checks don’t take long. He definitely shouldn’t be writing mission reports sleep deprived and concussed. 

“You–”

“Let it go, Iruka.” Shikami doesn’t raise his voice or sharpen his tone and the words aren’t an order , precisely. Somehow, though, the single sentence carries incredible weight.

“Sorry.”

“S’all right.” If anything, his voice grows even softer until it teeters on the edge of a whisper. Iruka deliberately keeps his head tilted towards where he’d been skimming through the dry section on the diplomatic proceedings in Frost and looks at his friend out of the corner of his eye. 

The teacher has known the man beside him for nearly two months. Of all traditional shinobi skills, he’s always excelled at reading the minute shifts of body language. It’s a skill used mostly to stop fights before pre-genin can start them and tell when one of his students is zoning out, but it’s one he practices every day nonetheless. It’s this finely-honed skill that allows Iruka to decode a short peripheral glance into a fairly comprehensive picture of a man. 

Two months is not a long time, but it feels like one. Any stretch of time is a long time to know a soldier, when half of their generation was dead within their first year of service.  Two months – with the first meeting when the Nara had been home from a warzone for mere minutes – and Iruka has never seen Shikami look any less than composed. Even when he seems relaxed, or exasperated, even the single time he’s seen him truly angry, there’s a controlled quality to it. Not today.

Shikami is clearly in pain, and maybe it’s the concussion or the stab wound or both. Maybe it’s Inoka, freshly out of the hospital. Maybe there’s only so long even the strongest people can stay on guard. Whatever the cause, Shikami is not composed. He’s pale and drawn, usually tightly-bound hair falling out of a loose bun and bandages peeking past the collar of his shirt. It’s a brutally, painfully real picture of a man Iruka knew couldn’t be doing as well as he seemed. And yet, somewhat guiltily, it warms Iruka’s heart that he’s here.

He knows Inoka is out and back to chaperoning her senbon students – albeit looking pretty shaken herself – but rather than ghosting along behind his partner as he’s been known to do on occasion, Shikami is squinting at the ceiling of an empty missions office. He doesn’t show weakness when he can help it, but he can help it and he’s still here.

Iruka hasn’t had a soul in the office in well over an hour. There’s nobody else there now. It’s only those facts that allow him to turn his eyes back to the report, fixing his gaze firmly away from the other chunin, and ask:

“You okay?” Even in this moment of willing vulnerability, he’s expecting Shikami to deflect. He’s waiting for a snort, or a sardonic remark, or a quick exit.

“No.” a single, serious word. An admission of humanity that the best and brightest of the ninja corps would usually rather die than share. Iruka wouldn’t have pushed, if he’d brushed off the question. But he didn’t.

“Okay.”

“Might be, tomorrow.”

“Might?”

“We’ll see.”

“Okay.” Iruka turns back to the report and discovers precisely how much it takes to put Shikami in this state. “Holy fuck, Shikami.” he says as he stamps the document and re-rolls it. 

“Didn’t  think you were capable of cursing.” He tries not to, generally, but he scowls at the Nara’s jibe on principle.

“Call it a special circumstance.” Iruka turns to file the report, dropping the intelligence scroll on Jashinists into a basket that goes directly to the Hokage. It’s sealed, so Iruka hasn’t even gotten a glance at it. That’s fine, he has vivid enough nightmares as it is. “Good job on not being ritually sacrificed.”

“I do my best.” The chair creaks as Shikami stands, stretching until his back pops. “Everything all right with the report?”

“Flawless, as I’m sure you know.”

“Could be illegible for all I know, every word I read refuses to stay still,” Shikami drawls, tapping his own temple. They’re back in the realm of banter, now, and if Shikami wants to ignore his own confiding moment, Iruka doesn’t mind. The other man ambles back around to the front of the desk. “Thanks,” he’s smirking, arms crossed casually like it doesn’t hurt the still healing hole in his chest. His tone, though, is nothing but sincere.

“Happy to help.”

“Enjoy watching the clock for three more hours.” Probably accurate, definitely rude.

“Get some sleep.”

“I’ll think about it.”

…

Inoka walks Sakura home alone. Generally Ino comes along, but on this particular night she’s promised to help at the flower shop for a few of the busy evening hours, so it’s just the two of them. She's grateful for that, when she looks back on the night.

Sakura is getting better in leaps and bounds with their training, outpacing both Ino and Hinata handily. It's not surprising. For one thing, every member of team seven was a monster in their own right, and even once she learned to punch clean through trees Sakura's superhuman ability always lay in control. For another, she’s more committed.

The girls are all trying, all working hard. But only one of them is spending every spare second on target practice. It’s a logistical difference, mostly, Sakura stocks shelves and occasionally tends the till in her parents’ shop but one advantage of being civilian-born is a complete lack of clan duties. The major disadvantage being a complete lack of shinobi mentors, but that’s what Inoka’s for. So Hinata is sitting quietly in clan meetings and generally trying to stay out of sight, Ino is kept busy with being a clan heir and training with her future team, and Sakura practices. For hours, between chores and homework and dinner she’s throwing dozens of senbon at makeshift targets. In the spare seconds as class transfers from subject to subject she’s practicing her quickdraws. In the slowest lectures she’s flipping needles between her knuckles and spinning them on her fingertips while she takes notes.

It wasn’t like this last time.

Sure, Sakura was always good with precision tools. Always an affinity for wielding the tools of the kind profession with deadly effect. Senbon are a perfect fit for her, especially this little version without the physical conditioning years training under Tsunade brought. It’s not that Inoka’s Sakura didn’t have the capacity for marksmanship, it’s just that by the time she started, she never had time to spare for the practice it required. Inoka spent the hours honing her aim, Sakura trained to exhaustion until her bare fists were a greater weapon than anything Ino could throw and there was a near-impossible seal on her head. 

And that’s fine. It’s fine. If Sakura graduates and gets to team seven and decides to be the second coming of Senju Tsunade again, good for her. But Inoka will not watch the world back this girl into a corner – will not see her broken and begging at anyone’s feet. Not even Lady Tsunade’s. That was her best friend. Her best friend. She should have been there for her better when team seven fell apart and she’ll be damned if Sakura gets left in the lurch again.

Not that it should matter. If the time travellers have any say in the matter, team seven will never face the trials that tore them apart. Better for the girl to have options, though, just in case. 

Point is, Sakura has been doing very well and Inoka makes a point of telling her so as they’re walking the short distance between the Yamanaka gates and the Haruno home. Sakura blushes crimson. 

“Everyone’s getting better really fast Inoka-nee, since you’re such a good teacher. And besides, I’m not doing anything special, just the practice you recommended.”

“I don’t think I recommended learning idle tricks with them for when you’re bored in class.” Inoka drawls, though she has a pretty good idea where that idea came from. If anything, Sakura goes even redder.

“Well…no, I guess not. But I saw Genma-san doing them and I thought–”

“I’m not saying I disapprove, Sakura-chan. The opposite, in fact. I’m proud of you. What I’m saying is that you’re going out of your way to practice as much as possible, and I’m impressed. You’re getting better so fast precisely because you’re working so hard.”

“But–”

Inoka sighs, pausing to turn and put her hands on the pre-genin’s shoulders. “Sakura, nobody’s saying Hinata and Ino aren’t doing well. Nobody’s even saying that they can’t be just as good, or that the boys might not have a knack for it if they try. What I’m saying is that you are doing well. Forget the others, all of them. You’re a kind kid, and I know how much you care. All of your friends know, too. I promise. You wear your heart on your sleeve, kiddo, and while you’re not always going to have that luxury in the field it’s invaluable at home. You radiate your love and your hate, your joy and pain and everything else like an open flame. They need you, Sakura. You and Naruto, you’re the heart of your group. But we’re not talking about what you mean to anyone else, right now. You’re doing very well with the senbon. That matters because you’re working very hard – harder than anyone else – at this, and you’re getting results. It’s not about Ino and Hinata. It’s you. I’m proud of you, nothing to do with anyone else. You should be proud of you. Okay?”

Sakura looks a little stunned, but she nods automatically. “I can do that.”

“Good. You never count yourself out, okay?”

“Okay, Inoka-nee.”

Ino nods, keeping one arm around her little charge as they walk. She’s glad for that, too, when the house comes to view and her blood turns to ice. Glad for the anchor, and glad that she’s spending so much energy making sure she doesn’t tense up and alert the girl that something is wrong that she doesn’t do something stupid like murder Shimura Danzo where he stands on the Harunos’ front porch.

Inoka does not tense up, and she does not separate Danzo’s head from his body. Much as she’d like to, there are more important things at stake than sating familiar rage. Instead, Inoka squeezes Sakura’s shoulders gently – protectively, if any ROOT agents happen to be watch – leans over in such as way that her mouth is mostly hidden by one braid, and murmurs:

“Sakura, listen to me very carefully and keep your expression neutral. If that man, or anyone who claims to be his representative ever asks you to go with him, you say no. If he doesn’t listen you pitch a fit, you act like a baby or a spoiled brat, you embarrass yourself, you yell for me or Shika or Genma or Inoichi, and you do not go with that man. Clear?”

“Wha–”

“ Clear?” she hisses. They’re almost at the house and Inoka does not have the time nor the privacy to explain the way she deserves. Sakura is shaking a little under her hand, leaning into her side. She nods, Inoka smiles a laid-back smile. The mask slips on, the perfect image of a teasing mentor. Inoka’s an interrogator and a Yamanaka, she’s not afraid to embrace her manipulative side. “Good, you promise you won’t tell Ino?”

“Promise, but I want the whole story.”

“Tough sell, kid.” Sakura’s on track for top kunoichi for a reason. Any nerves she’s showing can be exposed as concern about Ino’s reaction to her keeping secrets. Kid stuff. Slimeballs like Danzo always underestimate everyone around them. He’s a genius, they’re all his pawns. Shikami loves to talk circles around this brand of asshole, but he’s not here. It’s just Inoka putting together a hasty cover with an eleven-year-old. “All right, I’ll tell you when I’ve got the details ironed out.”

“You’re sure she’s not going to be mad?” Her mom? If she is, Inoka will handle it, but she’d be surprised if she had to. Mebuki Haruno is standing on the porch with Danzo, gripping a coffee mug so tightly it might just shatter.

“She’s not going to be mad, Sakura-chan, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“If you’re sure.” they’re heading up the porch steps, and let the conversation peter off at the unexpected presence. Reluctantly, the Yamanaka releases her vulnerable friend.

“Councilor Shimura,” Inoka bows as deeply as is expected, and after startling violently at the name, Sakura rushes to follow.

“Yamanaka Inoka, good to see you seem to be making a full recovery after your latest mission.” His voice is smooth, tipping just from silky into oily, for all most people never notice the difference. 

“Thank you for your concern, sir.” it’ll have to be the military address, the chunin isn't sure she could get his name out a second time without vitriol leaking into her tone.

“And you must be Sakura, your mother and I were just discussing what a bright young woman you are.”

“Oh! Um, thank you, Shimura-sama.” she blushes to the tips of her ears again at the compliment, though it probably has more to do with Mebuki’s implied words of praise than Danzo’s spoken ones. She’s a tough woman, Sakura’s mother, severe and strong-willed and stubborn. Kind and gentle and thoughtful, too, but none of that’s showing right now. 

“Of course, it’s always a joy to interact with Konoha’s future shinobi.”

“You honour me, Shimura-sama.” So polite, always humbling herself for other peoples’ comfort. Until she gets truly comfortable, then Sakura’s a firecracker. Inoka doesn’t particularly want to encourage the girl’s impulse to make herself small for the benefit of others, but it’s sure handy at the moment.

“What a polite girl,” Danzo smiles. Inoka can read between the lines. Polite, easy to train. He has no idea how stubborn Sakura is when pushed and he’ll never find out. “Perhaps we will be seeing more of each other in the near future, Sakura-chan.” Sakura is clearly confused, but she doesn’t get the chance to voice it before Danzo is turning down the stairs. “Consider the offer, Haruno-kun, she clearly has plenty of potential.”

“I appreciate your investment in my daughter’s education, Councilor Shimura, but unfortunately I just don’t think it will be possible.” nerves of steel, to deny a member of the Hokage’s council outright like that. Some jonin wouldn’t be able to pull that one off.

“Think about it,” the bandaged man presses, leaving before Mebuki can refuse again. They’re left standing on the porch, the three of them.

“What’s the plan for dinner?” Inoka asks with a sunny smile, inviting herself to a meal she was never a part of. Mebuki’s grip on the mug goes from crushing to just normal white-knuckled. 

“I was thinking Katsudon, if that sounds all right?”

“Sounds perfect.” Sakura’s expression is moving away from confusion to fear, so the time traveller manages to hear the Harunos inside where there’s some modicum of privacy.

“Inoka-nee–”

She steamrolls over the little girl, something more important to check, first. “What an honour, a visit from a council member.” 

“Indeed. An honour.” not a great acting job, but Inoka can’t exactly blame the woman for being rattled. “Unfortunate that we won’t be accepting his offer.” there’s a sharpness in her eyes, like she doesn’t know whether Inoka will disapprove. It’s sort of gutting, but it’s not unreasonable. How often do chunin side with a civilian mother’s concerns for an academy student over seasoned shinobi? Can’t be often.

“How disappointing. Did he at least stay for tea?” She keeps her eyes locked on Mebuki’s, hoping she gets the idea. It’s not the near-conversation most ninja can have with glaces, honed on stakeouts and in foxholes, but Sakura comes by her brains honestly. 

“Oh! Um, no, we only got to talk on the porch. A relief, honestly, the house is hardly in a fit state for company.” it’s spotless by Ino’s approximation, but she doubts this bit is an act. More like an apology for letting Inoka see the ‘mess’. Mebuki’s always been fastidious, a marvel to a little clan girl with soil under her nails and weapons stashed all over her house. It’s a trait Sakura will grow into, and a very good one for a mednin.

More importantly, though, if Danzo wanted bugs planted, he would have had to sneak ROOT agents in to do it. Not impossible, and Ino will still treat the space as unsecured, but it’s something. The Harunos can complain about Danzo’s proposition and be taken for ignorant civilians. Inoka has no such luxury.

“Please, Mebuki-san, there’s not a loose bag of mulch in sight.” not that Ino’s mother would stand for that either, but it pulls a tense smile out of the older woman. “Sakura-chan,” Inoka murmurs gently, nudging the kid’s shoulder. “You remember that promise for me, all right?”

“What’s going on, Inoka-nee?”

“I can’t tell you right now, but I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, then I need you to trust me on this one. I’m trusting you to keep that promise, hm? So we’re in this together.”

“Okay.” Sakura leans into her side again and lets her mother kiss her on the forehead. “Is it…is it all right if I go practice before dinner?” she’s not usually anywhere so careful with this question. 

“Of course, dear, just make sure you wash up when you come in.” Sakura hurries out into the backyard. Inoka glances at Mebuki, tapping her temple, and waits until she gets a tentative nod before entering her mind.

“Can you focus to cook while we talk?” Inoka asks, sitting on the lip where the open screen door slides open onto the yard. “Don’t squint!” she calls to the pre-genin, who heaves a shaky breath and nods.

“Yes,” Mebuki doesn’t move. She’s watching her daughter like she’s trying to memorise every second.

“I’d rather have the illusion of normalcy for this conversation, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“You’ll watch her?”

“Every second.” strong, stubborn, and kind to the bone. It could be the Haruno family creed. Mebuki goes to the kitchen and turns her back on the child someone has just tried to convince her to give away. “He wants to recruit her?”

“I told him we weren’t interested.” She still seems guarded as she answers, like Inoka might turn on a dime and side with Danzo. The Yamanaka’s never really considered what sort of special hell being a civilian parent of a ninja must be. “She doesn’t need extra training, all by herself away from home. She’s eleven, Inoka-kun. She already works herself to the bone and she’s –”

“Good.” Inoka cuts through the diatribe. “Good. She’s doing just fine on her own, and she certainly doesn’t need to disappear off the face of the earth to be prepared for shinobi life. And fuck him, by the way, for ever showing up here.”

“Pretty sure that’s treason, Inoka-chan.” it’s almost teasing, tinged with incredible relief. Inoka and her Shika are on her side, if nobody else.

“Tame treason, compared to what I’d like to do at the moment.” in the kitchen, Mebuki snorts. 

“You’re locking your back knee a little!” Sakura pauses, moving through her form slowly until she finds the moment.

“Thanks!” She's calming down as she practices.

“He’s not going to stop, is he?”

“No.”

“What can we do?” against what is realistically the most powerful man in the village? Inoka’s working on it, but it’s a delicate process.

“Act normal, be respectful but firm if he comes back.”

“That’s all?”

“For now, it’s the best bet you have. If he tries something, Sakura’s promised to throw an almighty fit and scream bloody murder until someone she trusts shows up. But unless he tries something really egregious, there’s not much recourse right now.”

“You know more than you’re telling me.”

“I do. But not about what he wants with Sakura. She’s good, and she’s getting better. Some of that’s my fault, and I’m sorry.” desperately, miserably sorry, because Danzo never bothered the Harunos the first time around. 

“Don’t be sorry for trying to keep her safe.”

“I’m sorry I put her in more danger in the process. And I’m sorry I don’t have a way to fix this.”

“You–” a quiet gasp from the kitchen and Sakura’s already running to help, senbon forgotten. Inoka waits until the girl is safely within reach before turning to help. She’d feel guilty for delaying aid, if her patient wasn’t watching with such obvious gratitude. It’s nothing serious, a horizontal cut across a pointer finger that’s deep but not jagged. Stupid, to ask her to split her focus when her hands were already shaking from the fading adrenaline. Should have just let Mebuki focus, but no use worrying about it now. Inoka’s got her hands already glowing with a minor healing jutsu when she reaches the woman. “You’ll keep her safe?” Mebuki asks at the same moment as Sakura says:

“Can you fix it, Inoka-nee?”

She can, and easily. Even as she answers, the cut stops bleeding and begins to close. Sakura’s mother seems more worried that she’s wasted good chicken than anything. Still, it’s standard procedure never to promise even an easy fix is a sure thing, so it feels natural when Inoka backs out of the older woman’s head and answers them both.

“I’ll do everything I can.” the cut closes up. Sakura beams, and Mebuki squeezes her hand when she’s done just long enough for Inoka to be sure she understands.

“Thank you.”

The front door swings open and all three of them jump, but it’s just Kizashi coming home from the shop. 

“Inoka-kun, what a nice surprise!” if he notices the tension in the air, he doesn’t comment on it. “Oh, dear, what’s happened?”

“Just a little accident, Kizashi-san,” Inoka assures in a voice that is pure hospital mednin. Calm, steady, reassuring. A facade she’s more than happy to put on for all three of the Harunos, if it makes any of this feel less like the threat it is for a moment. “She’s going to be all right.” Mebuki pushes her mouth into a flat line, but belief settles in the lines of her face as she nods.

Danzo’s making moves, so they’ll just have to outmanoeuvre him. Fine. That's fine. Inoka has fought worse.

Chapter Text

They enter the Yamanaka compound at nearly midnight, Raidou and Anko trailing after Genma as he weaves through rows of greenhouses only he knows well enough to navigate. Genma’s got a weird degree of familiarity with the Nara and Yamanaka from his time as Choza’s genin, and his access to the greenhouses is no small part of that.

Even with the escort of someone who’s largely allowed to come and go as he pleases, Raidou’s skin crawls to be on clan lands without explicit permission. And what reason do they have if questioned? Inoka said show up to an unmarked door in the middle of the night? Three of ANBU’s best, and apparently without a suspicious bone in their bodies. Which is not accurate, really. 

Anko lives for chaos, and Inoka’s made her an offer too strange to refuse with all of this.

Genma’s incredibly suspicious by nature, but has gone and fallen head over heels for their new friend like the heroine of one of Kakashi’s stupid books and thus did not ask a single probing question before agreeing.

Raidou is just here to make sure neither of them get murdered.

They reach the door of what looks to be a little office attached to the poison plants greenhouse, which Genma’s probably passed a thousand times but the others have never encountered before. There’s not even time to knock before the door opens a crack. 

Genma pokes his head in like an idiot who’s never been ambushed before, despite nothing being further from the truth. Not that Raidou actually thinks Inoka would set out to hurt them, but he’s only known the woman for a couple months and it pays to be paranoid.

Genma remains unscathed, though, pushing the door open wide enough to enter. 

Things get stranger inside. It is an office, with a sturdy desk, full bookshelves, three comfortable-looking chairs, and a corkboard with a handful of mementos tacked up. There’s a picture of Ino and Sakura folded neatly down the centre. Another of freshly academy-aged Ino-Shika-Cho sprawled out on a hill in what Raidou assumes to be the Nara woods, which must be courtesy of Inoichi because Inoka would never have known them that young. There’s an impressively detailed sketch of a single sprig of clover. A dried out daisy chain. A length of red ribbon. Raidou’s lost plenty of friends, he recognises memorials when he sees them. Good to see the kids are up there, though, a palpable tether to the people who are still alive to care about. 

The room itself isn’t the strange part, though. It's the occupants that throw Raidou off. In the cozy office are Inoka and Shikami – expected, if looking a little worse for wear after their recent mission –, Kakashi and Tenzou – less expected, but make as much sense as the three new arrivals –, and the current heads of the Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi – incomprehensible. 

On the bright side, it’s almost certainly not a trap.

“Sensei?” Genma stops just inside the door. Rai nudges him to the side far enough for Anko to squeeze past him and into the office, then shuts the door. “What's going on?”

Choza shrugs, nodding towards Inoka. The Yamanaka woman is pacing the perimeter of the office, dodging around the other occupants as she goes. “Not sure.”

The group is silent for a stretching moment, watching Inoka as she once again laps the room. 

Raidou doesn't particularly have anywhere to be, so he's generally happy to wait out whatever it is that's going on. This isn't the most unhinged he's seen a friend after a close call on a mission, even accounting for the whole ‘invited to an unmarked room in the dead of night’ thing. Realistically, he's had more unhinged moments himself. So, if Inoka needs to pace the room to cope with Shikami getting stabbed in the chest, that's fine. And if there's something else going on, odds are she'll get to it eventually. 

Raidou just watches one more loop around the room, then shoves his hands in his pockets and leans back against the wall to wait.

She makes it three and a half more laps before Shikami sighs, rubs his heavily shadowed eyes, sits up properly in his seat, and says: “Ino, you're freaking people out.”

“What?” She asks, pausing in front of the corkboard.

“You're pacing in silence, nobody knows what's going on. You're freaking them out.”

“I'm gonna kill him.” She says, beginning to pace again. If this is meant to be an explanation, it's a poor one. Who, precisely, is Inoka going to kill? And why? Should they be discouraging this? 

Shikami doesn't seem all that concerned, slumping a bit in the armchair in the corner – a paranoia position, even in a room full of people he presumably trusts and too injured to last all that long in a fight – and raising his eyebrows.

“Why bother dragging all of these people out of bed if you're just going to go commit solo treason?” He drawls.

“Treason?” Anko squawks.

“She's not actually going to kill him,” Shikami assures.

“Who?” Asks Choza.

“I am,” Inoka argues, ignoring the question entirely. “He came for one of the fucking kids, Shika, I'm gonna–”

“You're not going to destabilize the entire political structure of the village by assassinating a councilman,” Shikami cuts in, still sounding more tired than he does concerned. “Think that one through.” Raidou himself has historically been more against other assassinations than he is this one, if they're discussing who he thinks they are.

“Shimura?” A single word, and not even a particularly loud one, has every eye in the room trained on Kakashi.

Rai glances around the room, watching the looks on the others’ faces during the exchange. He knows where Genma stands on Danzo, and while they've never talked about it he's got a pretty good idea what Tenzo, Kakashi, and Anko have to say on the matter.

What he's more interested in is the reactions from the clan leaders. Choza frowns thoughtfully, Shikaku sighs, Inoichi snags Inoka's shoulder as she paces past him. Not one of them looks a fraction as worried as clan heads ought to look at the prospect of political assassination. And even less surprised by the idea.

“If it was that simple–”

“Shikaku,” Inoichi cuts in quietly, stopping the Nara short. Then he turns his attention to the younger Yamanaka. “Which of the kids did he approach, Ino?” he murmurs, turning her enough to get a hand on her other shoulder as well. Choza has always been startlingly kind, but Raidou's not sure he's ever seen the other two thirds of his team so gentle with anyone as they are these two chunin.

Shikaku is a terrifyingly smart, terrifyingly blunt man. But he keeps his mouth shut and moves to stand behind Shikami's chair on careful feet.

Inoichi is the head of a division centred around torture, steadying a woman who's just admitted to entertaining treason with infinite patience.

Neither the Nara chunin nor the Yamanaka one needs it, one need look no further than their handling of the recent surprise S-rank for that. Neither pulls away either. 

Choza, when the tokujo glances his way, has a flash of grief in his expression before it mellows to concern. What's that about?

Inoka isn’t looking at Inoichi, even as he tries to meet her eyes. She’s not looking at Shikami either, and he doesn’t look surprised. She’s staring over Anko’s shoulder at the first thing Raidou had noticed upon entering the little study. A photo, folded down the centre, of two little girls. “Sakura.”

Genma curses. Inoichi seems to want to follow his example, but just presses his mouth into a flat line. There are two kids in Inoka and Shikami’s little circle who don’t have a clan backing them, and even Danzo’s not brazen enough to lay a hand on Naruto.

“What do you need from us?” asks Choza before the silence can stretch.

“Nothing, I changed my mind. I’m going to kill him.” Raidou is inclined to believe her, and he’s not sure whether it’s better to stop her before she gets branded a traitor, or just do his best to help hide the body. In the end, there are two former ROOT agents in the room, and he decides to take his cue from them.

Tenzo is watching Inoka with a blankness that only really indicates the presence of a strong emotion. Beside him, Kakashi is leaning against the wall, covering his friend’s only blind spot. They have yet to make a single comment since the final three entered, focused entirely on the miracle pair, so Rai does the same.

“You can’t kill him,” Says Shikami again. Inoka was the only one in the hospital, from what Raidou’s heard, but her partner looks far, far worse. Every shift of weight is accompanied by a wince and he’s paler than he should be, making already bad eye bags look worse. Asuma says he barely slept on the trip back, and from the looks of things he still hasn’t.

It’s the sort of thing that usually has Inoka worried, but she seems well past that in her near-frenetic pacing. “Why not?” she growls.

“He’s a decorated war hero, for one thing.”

“What of it?”

“You’ll be declared a traitor.”

“They’ll be safe.”

 “You’ll be a nukenin.”

“I don’t care.”

In the resulting silence, Raidou tears his eyes away from the pair long enough to glance at Tenzo and Kakashi again. Tenzo doesn’t seem to be listening at all. His eyes are narrowed slightly, darting back and forth between the two as he analyses something Raidou can’t even guess at. 

The last Hatake is shaking his head a little at Inoka’s words, and Raidou’s inclined to agree. The odds that she succeeds aren’t zero, but they’re also not high enough to risk losing a trustworthy shinobi with the way things are going lately. The Mizuki fallout at the academy has them all thinking about threats hiding in plain sight, and Danzo’s always been top of that list in this group. Something needs to be done, but this isn’t it.

It’s like Shikaku said, though, if it were that simple they would’ve been rid of him years ago. Especially with Ino-Shika-Cho on board. Rai has half a mind to say as much, to try and diffuse the situation if nothing else.

Before anyone can say anything, there’s the creaking of a chair and a quiet exhale. When their eyes turn towards the sound, it’s like Shikami has become a different person. Spine straight, eyes calculating. He’s so hauntingly still that it’s the first time Raidou has ever noticed how much Shikami twitches, and fidgets, and messes with whatever’s in his hands. The man has a hell of a presence on an average day, but this is something different. 

Raidou has been a shinobi for well more than half his life, he fought a war at ten, he is not easily phased. But something about Shikami in this moment shakes him. Because he’s felt that sort of aura before, but only twice. Once, as a genin, when they’d run across Senju Tsunade not long after she left the village and she had threatened life and limb if they asked her to return. Once, when Kushina was dead on the ground, and Minato was drawing a seal in blood and they were too late, too late to reach him in time to help. It’s power. It’s equal parts grief and desperation.

He’s not the only one who’s affected, either. Anko’s shuffling her feet. Genma’s got his hands shoved in his pockets in a way that has always meant they’re shaking. Kakashi’s jaw is clenched so tightly it looks like it hurts even through the mask. Tenzo’s staring at a point just above Shikami’s head, eyes blank. The clan heads, for their part, look sort of stunned.

Civilians occasionally tell him that they can tell he’s been to war, just from the way he stands, and walks, and the feeling when he enters a room. Shinobi don’t notice it the same way, from what Raidou’s gathered, less attuned to a difference that’s more common than not to them. They sniff out the ANBU among them much the same way, though. There’s something that says ‘you’ve been through a different kind of hell’ that puts people on edge on an instinctual level. That Shikami’s carrying around a level of desolation that Raidou’s only ever seen from people who’ve truly lost everything hits like a blow. That Inoka doesn’t so much as shift her weight is almost as bad.

Something Asuma had said when dropped in on Rai and Kurenai’s training upon his safe return comes to mind. “They’re scary. When they’re pushed they’re…I can’t think of a better word than heavy. Like someone dropped a planet on you.” Raidou had more-or-less shrugged it off at the time, because they already knew the pair were scarily competent, and it didn’t seem like much of a difference. Now he’d ask ‘like Tsunade?’ and already know the answer. Sometimes people walk through the end of the world and keep going, and sometimes you can tell.

“If we were going to have this fight,” Shikami says softly, taking a step towards his sister, “why not have it before we dragged everyone out of bed.”

“I don’t see why it has to be a fight,” Inoka growls, crossing her arms. She doesn’t back down, doesn’t even blink at the change in his demeanor. Mednin have famously good control, and even in this state she plays her cards closer to her chest than Shikami does.

“Because you’re being selfish.”

“Don’t start that shit with me. You and I both know–”

“And what about Sakura, then?”

“She’ll be safe.”

“She’ll be crushed, Ino. You’ll leave and go nukenin and she’ll blame herself forever.”

“You’ll–”

“I’ll what? Stay and pick up the pieces of your stupid, selfish, reckless crusade?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true. What’s your plan? Kill him and run and let every structure in the village collapse from the power vacuum?” His tone stays even, conversational, and colder than Rai would have thought he had in him. It’s so easy to underestimate these two, they make it so easy to know they went through hell in Mist without knowing what it took to make it home.

“How many of those kids do you think will die if you start a civil war?” Shikami continues “Even odds say at least two or three, depending on where battle lines are drawn you could easily be looking at six or seven. Could be all of them for that matter. Could be the whole damn village. Certainly Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura are at the biggest immediate risk, but no clan is too big to fall. I would think you of all –”

“Shikamaru!” Ino snaps. It’s out of the blue enough that Shikami stops short for a moment. He tilts his head consideringly, then takes another couple steps until he’s right in front of Inoka. Raidou would simultaneously like to be anywhere else, not intruding on this, and feels compelled to stick around and make sure they’re all right.

“What about him?” Shika asks carefully. “You think I’d care more if it was him Danzo was threatening? That’s not fair, Inoka.” but his tone is softer now, and the energy has died down, and Raidou can almost breathe again.

Inoka swallows hard, shaking her head. “No, I…no, I know. I know. I just, it’s Sakura…I can’t…”

“Neither can I.”

“No, I know.”

“So we asked for help, yeah? Do the smart thing? No flying off the handle?”

“I think I’m entitled to fly off the handle every once in a while.” she murmurs, slumping into a chair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to –” she goes abruptly, deeply pink. “Didn’t mean to subject you all to that. Sage, sorry. That’s embarrassing.”

“Deeply,” Shikami agrees, regaining his seat. “I’m very embarrassed for you.” The crooked grin and the tired eyes reappear, and while Raidou doesn’t think he’s faking it, precisely, he’s also newly aware that there’s a lot more below the surface.

“Don’t think I won’t cut your hair off,” Inoka threatens shakily. Inoichi moves to stand by the arm of her chair, the first of the bystanders to actually break their tableau.

“Again?” Shikaku asks dryly.

Choza looks over at the wall of uncomfortable jonin and mouths the word ‘twice’. This has the dual effect of breaking the tension in the group, and neatly explaining why the Ino-Shika-Cho clan heads trusted a couple of chunin with no proof of identity so quickly. Sounds like they’ve known them pretty well their whole lives.

“So,” prods Anko. “What’s the plan?”

●●●

It’s a simple plan, and frustratingly inadequate. 

Interacting with the Harunos more on the part of the clan leaders, giving themselves reasons to be around the house and around the kid without arousing suspicion. Patrol routes whenever possible for Kakashi, Tenzo, Genma, Raidou, and Anko. Usually between the five of them, someone is in the village, so it’s a good group to work with. Plus, if Choza had to guess, at least some of them have direct experience with Danzo’s little private army. 

It’s all so delicate, because Danzo’s managed to make his name virtually synonymous with ‘corruption’ in this village over the years, and anywhere where there’s the smallest crevice for him to squirm into, he’s gone and made himself a support beam for the whole department. It’s why Inoka can’t go around assassinating him without risking civil war, and it’s why the clan council hasn’t been able to get rid of him. Before Inoka and Shikami came home, Choza had been banking on him dying soon and taking his power-hungry ways to a nice, easily-explicable, bureaucratically-simple grave. Priorities shifted drastically, though, when the time travellers arrived and informed them that rather than the deeply annoying but largely benign influence they thought Shimura Danzo had over the Hokage and bureaucracy, he’s actually been kidnapping children, orchestrating massacres, and building a private army. Oh, and he’s a bloodline thief! Great.

Some of the highest ranked, best trained, most perceptive shinobi in the village sit on the clan council, and far as Choza can tell, none of them noticed a damned thing. A clan was massacred in their homes, and the man who gave the order is still at the Sandaime’s right hand.

Delicate as it is, though, there’s only so much they can do for Sakura-chan. Patrols and guidance and whatever little portion of their clan protections they can provide is something, but it very well might not be enough. She’ll have better luck if they can get her to graduation, since genin are a lot harder to lose track of than academy students on a purely paperwork level, but Danzo knows that as well as they do. They could force his hand, put the girl directly at his mercy if only to get some level of proof, but that would sort of go against the whole ‘protect Sakura’ agenda.

In the immediate, the best they can do is set up a half-dozen of the village’s most talented – and most ferally protective – shinobi as protectors and hope it’s enough to hold over until whatever the time travellers have planned in the long term.

For their part, the five friends Inoka and Shikami have asked looked more than happy to help from the moment they entered, and all the more willing after the spat-slash-minor-breakdown the chunin had once they were assembled. They’ve fallen in with a good group, here, for which Choza is unbelievably grateful. Inoka and Shikami are not good at being alone, though as children it’s always been Choji who’s had the strongest tendency to cling while the other two are content in their own space.

Choza wonders – and tries not to wonder, more often than not, for the sake of his sanity – what war did to his gentle, self-conscious son. He knows from nights lying awake together, grieving a young man they never even got to meet that Kei wonders the same. What he knows is this: they loved Choji as dearly as they do each other – as dearly as Choza loves his own brothers – and they miss him desperately. One other fact is less certain, but Choza is absolutely positive of it when he looks at them. Choji’s been dead less than a year. That’s the hardest bit to think about, that he was so close to coming home.

Still, he didn’t get through two wars by letting his grief swallow him, and he didn’t do it by being ungrateful for what he still has. The absence of a Choji he didn’t know he had a chance to have is crushing some days, but he’ll never tell the kids that. He’ll quietly grieve someone he never met, if it means his siblings blame themselves a little less. He’ll go home and muss his son’s hair, and ask about his day, and be grateful for every second.

Lost in his thoughts, Choza doesn’t notice that half the group is leaving until Genma catches his eyes, waving his goodbye with a searching smile. Kid’s been worried since the last time he was roped into dinner, and given the sudden uptick of Gai and Ebisu’s visits he’s enlisted help. It’s not like Choza can tell them what’s going on, and they’re about the only ones who know him well enough to tell the difference who aren’t in the know. He’s not above taking advantage of time with his bratty former genin team, now that they’ve all long-since moved on and built lives of their own.

For the moment he waves back, answers the worry with a reassuring smile of his own, and turns his focus back onto the conversation in time for the door to shut behind the assortment of jonin and tokujo. The room is warded to the moon and back, but they still wait until the sound of footsteps has completely disappeared before Shikami stretches dramatically and kicks his sister in the shin as hard as he can.

“Ow!” Ino shrieks. Some things never change.

“Nice going, blondie. Why not just call me ‘mister time travel’ next time?”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry. No need for the violence.”

“And here I thought you were the subtle one.”

“I was upset,” she mutters. “It just slipped out, okay?”

“I know, Ino,” Shikami assures, dropping his teasing air “I’m sorry, too. Just, I can't...don't you dare leave me like that. Okay?"

"You know I wouldn't"

"I know. I do but still-"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight."

"Okay" he heaves a shaky sigh. "Okay. It's okay. I get it. It's Sakura."

"It's Sakura," Inoka echoes with a nod. It doesn't exactly mean anything to Choza, but it's said with the cadence of an apology from both sides.

"Also if... if we could avoid impromptu arguments in front of people we want to trust us and take us seriously?”

“Kakashi reads porn in public,” Shikaku points out. “Pretty sure you’re alright on that front.”

“Still,” Shikami frowns. While Choza knows the young Nara has a point, he also knows what’s done is done. May as well make them feel better about it as much as they can, especially given this particular group of shinobi is highly unlikely to hold it against either of them. They were due a bit of a breakdown, anyway, and a semi-public argument is as good a release as any. 

“He also had to be physically pulled apart from Obito about a hundred times when they were genin,” Cho puts in, “so I’d be surprised if there’s any judgement from that direction.”

“Anko stabbed a dango stick through the roof of her mouth while you were gone,” Inoichi adds dryly, clearly picking up on what the other two are doing. “And Genma picked a fight with Mozuku for what I’m assuming was the love of the game.”

“How’d he manage that?” Ino murmurs, “Mozuku’s usually pretty level headed.” She seems to be mostly musing to herself, but unfortunately Choza has an extremely likely and experience-based answer to the question.

“Genma knows every single combination of insults for someone with a bandana and glasses under the sun,” the Akimichi leader sighs, “and has the ability to use them with extreme prejudice at the drop of a hat when someone’s pissing him off. It’s Ebisu’s fault, Mozuku’s just collateral damage.” Shikami snorts, relaxing into his seat a little. He’s managing to mostly look at Choza today, no longer trying to hide after their talk a couple of days before. It’s nice, good to see them both safe and whole at the same time. “Once, when they were genin–” Choza trails off, remembering what a ball of nerves Genma’s been while Inoka was gone, and the way his eyes darted to her the moment they entered the room.

“When they were genin, Choza-jii?” Ino prompts, looking a little too interested. Yeah, definitely something going on there.

“Nevermind. I’m not doing the equivalent of showing you his baby pictures, Ino-chan. Genma’s love life is none of my business.” Then he leans back to watch the fireworks. 

Inoka goes immediately crimson. “Not you too!”

While Shikami is very much aware of this development, judging by the private and gleeful smile he shoots Choza, Inoichi is very much not.

“What?”

“What?” Ino parrots, “Nothing. Don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Genma, really?” He sounds a little too incredulous for Choza’s liking.

“Hey, easy on my student, now.”

“Nothing against Genma, love the guy, work with him every day,” Inoichi assures quickly. “I just… I mean…”

“I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about,” Shikami drawls in a way that is the pure essence of Shikamaru, and can only mean mischief. Nice to see that pieces of the kids remain in the war-hardened soldiers. Especially after that glimpse of Shikami’s full intensity during the arguement. “She was practically married once already.”

“Oh you’re one to talk!” Inoka glares at her brother. Shikami rolls his eyes. Shikaku raises a single eyebrow, looking profoundly entertained by this whole thing.

“And last I heard Shikamaru was planning to ‘never get married ever’,” the elder Nara drawls. 

Shikami shrugs, glancing at the corkboard where Inoka’s displayed every memento that made it through the apocalypse with her. “Well, not anymore,” he murmurs, smiling a tight, sad smile.

And if that isn’t heartbreaking, Choza doesn’t know what is.

Into the silence that meets Shikami’s words, his father offers a change of topic. The lightness of the moment has fled, anyway. “Is there a plan for handling Shimura?” he asks softly, claiming the third chair. Whatever the plan is, they’re discussing treason. Choza might feel worse – should probably feel worse regardless, loyal Konoha shinobi that he is – except that he’s well certain none of this would have gone on this long if Minato still had the hat.

Every generation should have a hokage, in theory. Someone who they fought beside and who earned their respect and maybe even who they trust with their lives should represent the shinobi forces. Choza’s hokage died protecting the village from a tragedy Danzo used to further his status and ostracize the Uchiha. While he respects Sarutobi Hiruzen, while he’s at least mostly confident the man has done his best and led the village to victory in two separate wars, he has a clear blindspot and it’s getting people killed. The Professor tried to retire once, and the village has suffered under his reluctant second term.

At the end of the day, Akimichi Choza is loyal to the village, and to his clan, and to his precious people. Not to the sandaime, not to a fault, at least. Not with literal foresight telling him what end that path wrought for the fate of Konoha the first time.

Of course, treason’s treason, even with all the good intentions in the world.

“There are several,” Shikami answers, “only the most incredibly last-ditch of which involve assassination.”

“I still want his head on a pike, for the record. Sakura, Shika.”

“Yeah, don’t we all?” the Nara whispers, still staring at the corkboard. He clears his throat and adds: “I meant what I said about civil war, though. We need to be careful about this.”

“What’s ‘plan A’?” asks Shikaku, always happy to play tactician.

“Danzo drops dead for completely natural reasons,” Inoka sighs. “Seems unlikely, but it would be the tidiest solution. Easier to uproot ROOT if it seems like just a run-of-the-mill handoff of responsibilities. Plus, they’d find the sharingan in an autopsy.”

“Odds on that happening?”

“One to five percent,” Shikami answers, “and not a terribly manipulable outcome.”

“What’s the fastest plan that’s not reckless?” Inoichi asks “assuming we’re on a tight time limit with Sakura’s precarious situation?”

“Find Tsunade, get her to take the hat. That’s the plan we’re working off of for the moment, but we need an excuse to seek her out.”

Shikaku snorts. “Odds on Senju Tsunade ever setting foot in this village again after what happened to her? Let alone taking the hat?” Choza’s similarly skeptical. He doesn’t even blame Tsunade to any real degree – even legends have breaking points.

Inoka just smiles a fond smile and pulls out something out of a triple-sealed compartment in the back of her kunai pouch. A photograph, folded neatly down the middle just like the one of her and her Sakura as pre-genin, and Choza sees why this last memento didn’t make it up onto the wall.

There are four figures in the picture – five if you include the pig. Teenage Ino and Sakura, in chunin vests so new they’re still visibly stiff. A woman Choza tentatively places as Kato Shizune, albeit no longer the pre-teen she was last Choza saw her, holding a small pig up to the camera with a grin. And Senju Tsunade, looking the same as ever, in the hokage’s hat.

Choza, Inoichi, and Shikaku all crowd immediately around for a closer look. Tsunade in the hat is so unlikely knowing Dan and Nawaki shared a dream of being hokage that he misses everything else on first glance, but upon a closer look Choza has to do a double take as he notices something even more shocking.

“How old are you in this picture?” Choza asks slowly.

“Uh…fifteen?”

“Sakura mastered the strength of a hundred seal at fifteen?” Shikaku asks.

“Best mednin of a generation.” Shikami says fondly, leaning forward in his chair to look at the picture. “Best chakra control of all time, if you asked Tsunade.”

“Which he did, every chance he got.”

“Why?” Choza’s almost hesitant to ask. 

“Because she blushed to match her hair every time.” Shikami grins and it looks entirely real, like the ones Choza has to drag out of Shikamaru almost against his will.

“Because teen boys think pulling pigtails is the only way to get a girl's attention.” Inoka says at the same time. And oh, oh.

“Point is,” Shikami says, before anyone can acknowledge that the woman he loved, who he was planning to marry, whose loss haunts him at least as freshly as Choji’s, is Ino's sweet, clever, stubborn best friend. “Tsunade took the hat once. I'm optimistic we can convince her again, if we have the opportunity.”

“and how do you intend to get that opportunity?” Shikaku asks like he already knows the answer. He's watching his son with something like understanding, but whatever dots he's just connected he doesn't voice them.

“Well, I just so happen to know the jonin commander,” he needles. Shikaku just sighs.

“A  mission that crosses paths with the notoriously elusive Senju princess? What a pain. I'll see what I can do.”

And just like that, they've taken the first treasonous step towards the final goal.

Chapter Text

After half a decade, even Kakashi can’t always read Tenzo.

Sure, for the most part he’s got it down. He knows when he’s exhausted, or content, or hiding an injury just like he does anyone else he ever worked ANBU with – almost anyone, at least. Because if he knew, if he could actually trust that a hundred percent, surely he would’ve seen Itachi’s snap coming – but, sometimes, Kakashi still has no clue what’s running through his kohai’s head.

It happens a lot in the days after their meeting with Inoka and Shikami, Tenzo’s expression unreadable and his thoughts somewhere else entirely. And it’s not like Kakashi can’t guess the general shape of what’s on the man’s mind – it’s the specifics he can’t parse.

Part of the problem is that he’s not sure how to feel about the whole thing, himself. He takes the time to consider it as he and Tenzo head out of the village at the end of the week, running through the trees towards their retrieval mission in silence. Tenzo’s too caught up in his thoughts to be good conversation, and Kakashi’s always preferred the quiet when he can get it. He certainly has plenty to think about.

On the one hand, he’s always happy to find out that other people are aware of who’s really pulling the strings in Konoha, let alone actively working against him. On the other hand, it’s a little unnerving that the pair knew exactly who to ask for help without clueing anyone new in. Every time someone starts to realise just how deep Danzo’s roots go, the odds of their assassination shoot up. Selfishly, Kakashi still prioritises the lives of the precious few people he has left over a little extra manpower toward undermining the most powerful man in the village.

It makes sense for the miracle chunin to leave some people in the dark. Gai, for example, has no history in Intelligence or Assignment and no real aptitude for the kind of treachery that would link him to ROOT. For all they fight, Asuma’s too close to the Sandaime for Danzo to risk him finding out what he’s up to. 

Other cases are far less cut-and-dry. Iruka has access to more files than any other missions desk worker and a nasty habit of figuring out ANBU identities for sport that would make it all too easy for him to stumble onto Danzo’s private army. Ibiki is one of the highest ranked shinobi in T&I and Anko tells him damn near everything. Iwashi has just as good a chance at being in the know as Raidou, but Kakashi knows he’s not. Kurenai spent years in genjutsu-breaking before she took a leave to train for her jonin exam and could easily have encountered ROOT indoctrinees.

That they managed to perfectly sort out who did and did not know in a group of people – a group of friends , granted, but even still – that they’ve known for barely two months would almost have to be sheer luck.

Or something else entirely.

It’s not that Kakashi is coming to distrust Inoka or Shikami, exactly. He doesn't trust easily in the first place, but it's not so easy to lose once he's given it and evey shinobi in the village has secrets. Sure, he'll be more comfortable once he's got this particular mystery sorted out, but at the end of the day the evidence for trusting them far outweighs the evidence against.

For one thing, killing intent is incredibly hard to fake, and for all it was overshadowed by the sheer unmasked presence Shikami had during their argument, it was practically rolling off of Inoka when she advocated for killing Danzo.

For another, if they’re actually untrustworthy, Konoha has a much bigger problem than a couple of rogue chunin with long-ingrained, instinctual knowledge of their systems and structures. 

If Inoka and Shikami are spies, or turncoats, or traitors, then by all odds at this point, so are Inoichi and Shikaku and probably Choza. Given the absolute trust the pair command with those three and the apparently life-long familiarity it would be impossible for them not to be in on it. 

Kakashi is a notorious pessimist, but even he feels like he would know if three of the oldests clans in Fire were undermining the shinobi system of the largest hidden village in the world from the inside. The Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi are none of them small clans, and their leaders are more than competent. If nothing else, they probably would have either been found out or succeeded in a hostile takeover by now. 

Kakashi has never had reason to distrust Ino-Shika-Cho, and he doesn’t see a reason to start now.

Finally, and maybe most tellingly, Asuma came back alive. 

Kakashi doesn't know the exact specifics of the C-turned-S-rank, if only because he hasn't found a good excuse to look up the report yet. What he has seen is the new Jashinist intel. The copy-nin may not be ANBU anymore, but he’s still sent on more than his fair share of solo, succeed-or-die type of missions. That means that when new information comes in on, say, a sadistic murder cult with a specific interest in turning high-level opponents into sacrifices for their evil god, he’s one of the first to be briefed.

And when that information comes in the form of one of the most comprehensive intel files he’s ever encountered? In a hand that’s becoming familiar from the missions desk schedule and notes scribbled to Iruka on Naruto’s progress – or lack thereof – with the clone jutsu? With an addendum about a potential uptick in the cult’s aggression towards Konoha nin in the near future after a team took out their messiah? Well, Kakashi didn’t stay alive this long without being able to put two and two together.

If they were ROOT, Asuma dead at the hands of a surprise attack from an S-class nukenin would be too easy an excuse for the death of a potential hokage candidate to pass up – because he’s in the conversation, no matter how much he denies the fact, his time as a guardian shinobi all but guaranteed that – when Danzo clearly believes the position should be his by default.

If they were turncoats or rebels or spies, Asuma dead in an explicable but tragic mission gone wrong would be all too potent a blow to the hokage to ignore, and experiencing that sort of tragedy would only help sell their cover.

So it’s not that Kakashi doubts Inoka and Shikami’s loyalty, he’s just starting to believe there’s more to that situation than meets the eye. And maybe it’s just paranoia, but the last Hatake didn’t survive ANBU without trusting his instincts. More than likely it’s classified, some horrifying specific of their mission that the Sandaime permitted them to tell their clan heads, but not explain to every bored jonin who asked. Or a personal detail – a traumatic loss of a teammate in Mist or a particularly brutal explanation for why neither one of them seems to have any parents or siblings to speak of. Or, perhaps, the secret lies a little closer to home. 

Kakashi hums thoughtfully to himself, watching Tenzo where he’s a couple branches ahead. Not like Inoka and Shikami would be the first ROOT agents to defect.

•••

The Bingo Book. It’s a rite of passage to drink here, once a shinobi’s survived a couple years into their career and picked up a rank or two. Maybe even picked up a bingo book entry of their own, if things have been eventful enough. It’s a nice place, busy as anything on a Saturday night, and yet they still seem to have managed to get a large booth to themselves in a prime paranoia position.

Hana does not know how she got here.

Or, well, obviously she knows how she got here, physically, but she can’t make sense of the circumstances. Either the ones leading up to this, or the ones she now finds herself in.

One moment she was fresh off a grueling recon mission in Kiri with Crane – definitely Yugao, now, though the other kunoichi made her work for weeks for that knowledge – and Owl – Hyuuga Ran, who was in Hana's ANBU training group but she doesn't know more than in passing – and dreaming of nothing more than collapsing into her nice, warm bed for a proper night’s sleep. The next, Anko is asking if she has a spare civilian uniform and dragging her out to the bar with a group of shinobi boasting mission records that make Hana look like a fresh genin. 

There are four chunin at the table, besides Hana, which should be plenty for her not to feel underwater – if they were any other chunin. Instead there's Inoka and Shikami, who barely count as chunin, Iruka, undisputed overlord of the missions desk, and Mozuku. Hana hasn’t talked to Mozuku in a couple of years, but they were in the same academy class and she more-or-less knows him. He's a regular enough person besides the vaguely ominous energy T&I seems to instill in people.

Hana glances around the table at the three scariest chunin in the village, ANBU Crane, ANBU Viper, ANBU Jackal, ANBU Bear – albeit none of them in mask – and a former Daimyo’s guardian, then quickly slides into the spot beside Mozuku before Anko can get any funny ideas.

It’s not that she’s antisocial or something. The Inuzuka are a friendly clan, and besides just the interpersonal skills expected from the heir, Hana’s also a naturally extroverted person. It’s not that she doesn’t like these people, either. It’s just that this is one of if not the most intimidating group in the village, and she’s not sure what she’s done to be here. She’s four or five years younger than most of these people, she didn’t fight in the war, she’s never been accused of being a prodigy. Mozuku, at least, has worked with some of them for a couple years. What has Hana done to even kind of belong here? She’s been in ANBU all of three weeks, and it’s not like Owl was invited. She glances enviously at the three Haimarus, curled up in a pile by the fire and already fast asleep.

“Hey,” Hana says to Mozuku as conversation picks back up around them. Anko sets some horrifically pink concoction – complete with a floral-printed toothpick umbrella – in front of the Inuzuka as she slides into the space beside her. A skeptical sip reveals it’s not nearly as sweet as she’d been expecting, and she takes another, longer drink. “Thanks.”

Anko shoots her a thumbs-up and promptly embroils herself in Asuma and Raidou’s conversation.

“Hey, long time no see,” Mozuku replies with a grin. “Let me guess, Anko kidnapped you.”

Hana opens her mouth to deny it, then mentally runs through the events that led up to this. “Yeah, actually, kind of. How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” he shrugs. “She does that. You’ll never get rid of her now.”

“Why would I deprive you of my company?” Anko says lightly.

“You’re a terror, Anko,” Iruka drawls. “You kidnap chunin and you’re blacklisted from subbing at the academy because you scare the kids on purpose.”

“There’s no proof I was doing it on purpose.”

“Anko.”

“Iruka.”

“So, did she kidnap you, too?” Hana asks Mozuku as the standoff continues beside her.

“Hana-chan! ” Anko clutches her chest, “How could you? I would never force you to come.” Hana, who’s been on three missions with Anko in the last month – one of them not even masked – and is beginning to understand how the woman works, thinks there’s a little too much honesty in that last comment.

She doesn’t call attention to it, exactly, just flashes her a grin and responds, “I know, Anko-senpai.” which seems to about do the trick, if the laugh Anko huffs out is any indication.

“Course you do.”

“So,” Inoka says, nudging Yugao with a shit-eating grin. “How was Water?”

“Enjoy the beach?” Shikami tacks on.

If looks could kill, it would be a race to see whether Yugao’s glare or Hana’s did them in. 

The official cover for their mission was a simple courier mission to a village just outside of Kirigakure. They’re not technically an enemy nation right now, for all they’re certainly not allies, and there are a handful of Konoha business interests in the area that make for a legitimate excuse for courier trips. A couple of chunin and a tokujo are a little overqualified to be glorified mail carriers, but not enough so to raise any eyebrows. 

The cover was a nice, easy there-and-back mission with the only real challenge coming from the treacherous nature of Kiri in the last couple decades. It would reasonably be expected to take maybe a week and a half, tops.

In reality, they’d made it to the Village Hidden in the Mist in a scant thirty-six hours at an ANBU standard shunshin and spent a gruelling nine days soaked to the bone, freezing, and covered in sand that felt more like mud, watching the Mizukage.

Something is…off is about as strong a word as Hana’s willing to use…with the Yondaime Mizukage. Karatachi Yagura is a famously complicated man, going from what seemed to be a promising – if rather startlingly young – new kage bent on peace for the turbulent land of Water to a bloodline purging tyrant seemingly overnight. He’s a dangerous enemy to have, and it’s frighteningly difficult to predict what will set him off. Now, seemingly on a dime, he’s changed again, becoming distant and reclusive. Less violent, perhaps, but who knows how long that will last.

Needless to say, ANBU’s been monitoring the situation closely. Last thing Konoha needs is a war with a volatile jinchuriki.

Officially, Inoka and Shikami should be poking fun at the team’s milk-run of a mission through the nightmare they were posted in for over a decade. It would be well within their rights. But something about the way they ask, the way Inoka tilts her head at Yugao with genuine curiosity and Shikami’s gaze sharpens, tells Hana that they’re very aware there was more to this mission than meets the eye.

She wonders if anything ever gets past espionage experts. She wonders if everyone at this table knows not only that she wears an ANBU mask, but which one it is.

“Can't say I enjoyed the trip,” Yugao deadpans. “Especially given I wasn't supposed to be on it.” Which is news to Hana.

“Sorry,” sighs Anko. “Hyuuga needed to be there and she's officially requested not to be assigned with me.”

“Another one?” Raidou frowns.

“What, why?” Hana asks, perplexed. Anko’s a hardass as a team leader and she can be a bit over-the-top sometimes, but Hana can't imagine why someone would file a formal request about it – let alone have it granted. That kind of thing doesn't get approved for no reason.

Anko just beams, “Never change, Hana-chan.” Which isn’t an answer in any way, but before Hana can ask follow-up questions, Shikami pulls the conversation back on topic.

“First time in Kiri, Hana-kun?” He asks. Hana nods. “Not a fan?” He doesn't exactly sound surprised.

“Something is off about that whole area,” Hana shivers. Inuzuka live a little closer to their instincts than most people, by virtue of relying so heavily on animal companions if nothing else. The air feels heavy in the Bloody Mist, and it’s not just the water in the air. Something is wrong with that village. Something is very wrong.

“Has been for years,” Inoka says sympathetically, sliding a basket across the table to offer Hana a fry. Never one to turn down free food, the Inuzuka smiles her thanks.

“Heard it was because Kiri’s haunted,” puts in Kurenai, pulling up a pair of chairs to the end of the booth for herself and Gai, who’s placing orders at the bar. “Sage knows if any village has angry ghosts hanging around, it’s that one.”

“Spending as long there as you two did is incomprehensible to me,” Yugao puts in. Hana nods in agreement, sipping her drink.

“Company’s definitely worse.” Shikami smiles.

“Sap,” laughs Asuma, but there’s the same warmth in his eyes.

“Getting worse lately, too,” Yugao muses, talking around the ANBU-confidential specifics. It’s public knowledge that something’s amiss in Kiri, and even vaguely what the root of it is.

“Oh?” Asks Inoka, leaning in slightly.

“Word is the Mizukage’s barely been seen in the last couple weeks, like he’s secluding himself or something.”

“Figures something worth knowing would happen right after we leave,” Shikami mutters, looking like he just bit into an orange and found out it was a lemon. 

Hana’s never really considered it, but she wonders now. How hard must it be to know everything about a place, to make it your mission to consider a situation from every possible angle, and then just walk away from it one day. How it must feel when something changes once you’re gone, and things are suddenly unpredictable again. Hana’s never been particularly promising in espionage, and this idea only further proves her unsuitability for long-term undercover work.

Inoka heaves a sigh, nudging past her brother to stand. “I need another drink, anyone else?” Heads shake, though Genma almost bowls Raidou over in his haste to stand.

“Aren’t you still supposed to be resting? Want me to grab it?”

Inoka rolls her eyes fondly, raising an eyebrow at the Shiranui. “You're sweet, Gen, but I've got it.”

“Oh, don't get his hopes up,” groans Raidou. There's no real heat to the complaint. “I'll never hear the end of it.” Inoka just bats a hand at him and heads over to join Gai at the bar.

The echoing exclamation of “Inoka-san! Congratulations on another successful mission!” When she reaches the green-clad jonin almost drowns out Iruka's snort of laughter at Genma's bright red ears, but not quite.

“Glass houses, Umino,” Genma says with a half-hearted glare. “Unless you want to get into why Kakashi's been spending the Hatake fortune on coffee and ramen for two, lately.”

“Oh, yes, let's,” says Yugao, leaning forward with her head in her hands. Generally, Yugao doesn't strike Hana to be the type to tease her friends, genuine and quiet as she tends to be. But all bets are off when it comes to someone's genin teammates.

“You're blowing things out of proportion,” Iruka insists immediately.

“I don't know, Iruka,” Shikami says, stealing a couple of fries while Inoka's not looking. “You have been seeing a lot of each other lately, haven't you?”

“What? Not you too!” Iruka pushes his hair back with a sigh. “We're friends.”

“But you wanna be more ,” Anko teases, stretching out the last word. Iruka blushes faintly, almost unnoticeable in the low light.

Hana, who knows Kakashi only in her capacity as his ninken vet and Iruka hardly at all, shoots a glance that says ‘you know anything about this?’ at Mozuku and sees the same fascinated surprise mirrored back. At least she's not the only one lost. 

Kakashi and Iruka ? The unshakeable copy-nin and the former prank-king of Konoha? That's, well…it seems sort of fire and ice of them, but who's Hana to judge? The rest of this group knows them far better than she does, and they clearly don't have trouble seeing it.

“We're just friends, Anko,” Iruka repeats firmly, not denying her words. "Friends get coffee together all the time."

Genma snorts, “More like he’s looking for an excuse to see you. I've known Kakashi since we were genin, Iruka. Literal decades and he's never bought me so much as a stick of gum.”

“I still don't think–”

“Gai!” Genma calls as the taijutsu master approaches with Inoka. “Hatake ever get you a cup of coffee?”

Gai is momentarily silent, considering, as he takes his seat beside Kurenai. “A couple of times–”

“See!” Exclaims Iruka.

“–After our legendary battles of–”

“Right, sure,” cuts in Genma before the description can really ramp up, entirely unphased after years of exposure by the sheer energy Maito Gai brings to everything he does. “My mistake on the phrasing. Has he ever bought you a cup of coffee that wasn't the prize for winning one of your competitions?”

“Not that I can think of,” Gai admits freely. Genma raises his eyebrows meaningfully at his former genin teammate, nodding towards Iruka.

“He's been buying everyone's favourite schoolteacher dinner. That seem like friend stuff to you?”

“I’ve never known my rival to go out of his way to socialise, Iruka-san, he’s generally too cool and aloof for that sort of thing.” Gai shakes his head. “That is definitely a something special”

“I really don’t think it means anything,” says Iruka softly. “I wouldn’t want to misread and make things awkward.” Hana, even removed from the situation as she is, can feel the atmosphere at the table settle into something gentler, turning away from the teasing debate in the face of his genuine concern.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to,” says Yugao carefully. “But it does sound like he’s trying pretty hard.”

“By Kakashi standards,” Asuma agrees. “You know he’s not so good with the whole ‘reaching out’ thing.”

“It’s just something to keep in mind,” says Inoka. “Sage knows life is hard enough without stressing this stuff.” Iruka nods thoughtfully, looking a little…lighter, somehow.

In the lull of conversation that follows, Hana considers the careful balance these people strike – caring and irreverent and startlingly perceptive all in the same breath – and knows she’s not quite there. Knows she’d like to get there, eventually, and that if she’d been through a fraction of what any one of these former child-soldiers went through in the war she’d hope to still be a fraction as human as they are. Knows their reputation for being odd and intimidating and unpredictable and has at least an idea that people refuse to work with Anko because of precisely that reputation. Knows that Hyuuga Ran is an idiot, to want no part of this, not even the little peripheral part that Hana and Mozuku have.

Inuzuka have good instincts, live and die by them, and these are good people. People worth holding onto, if they’ll let her.

“Are you stealing my fries?” Inoka asks, elbowing Shikami.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answers immediately, taking another fry.

•••

Kakashi sneezes.

It’s a good thing that they’re breaking for dinner, still just on the Fire side of the border with the Land of Rivers and not particularly worried about stealth, but Tenzo still shoots him a deeply unimpressed look. Long gone are the days of impressing his kohai with his professionalism and skill. For one thing, it’s an unattainable standard these days with Kakashi being expected to be a whole person again, rather than the impersonal weapon ANBU allowed him to be. For another, Tenzo’s a whole-er person himself these days, and much harder to impress.

“Getting sick?”

“Shut up, Tenzo.”

“Lovesick, maybe?” he needles, carefully avoiding Kakashi’s glare. “When did you develop such a taste for ramen, senpai?”

Kakashi sighs. “Shut up, Tenzo,” he repeats. The younger man just snorts, shaking his head and turning his attention back to his food. The copy-nin’s attention drifts back to his earlier thoughts and he sighs again.

“You sigh more than a teen girl,” Tenzo picks his teasing back up immediately. Brat. Kakashi just hums. “Something wrong?”

“Inoka and Shikami,” Kakashi answers, deciding if they’re ever going to have this conversation, now is as good a time as any.

Now it’s Tenzo’s turn to sigh. “You think they’re ROOT.” he doesn’t seem surprised.

“I think they were,” Kakashi corrects. “I think they’re on our side, but something doesn’t add up.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Kakashi has fought Shikami, even if it was only a spar. If Tenzo thinks they’re enemies, they have a problem.

“I don’t think they were ROOT,” Tenzo clarifies quickly.

“You don’t? ” He's aware he’s repeating himself too much, but he can’t think of anything else to say to that. He’s been thinking on it all day, and it makes sense. They reappear out of nowhere after over a decade of silence, hating Danzo and rabidly defensive of kids with a dangerous amount of potential, and are immediately absorbed back into their clans by strangely protective leaders. If their lost spy story isn’t adding up – or if it’s more complicated than it seems – there aren’t a lot of other benevolent explanations. “You think they’re enemies?”

“No. I think they’re allies, I just don’t think they were ROOT. I thought they might be but they…it’s not quite right, the way they act. When Inoka was angry it wasn't…I don't know. I can't put my finger on it but it wasn’t right.”

“Her anger was certainly personal enough.”

Tenzo nods, staring out into the trees. “No argument there. I don't know, I just, they're not…they don't move quite right, they don't talk quite right, they don't fight quite right. To be that personally angry? To be that strong ? ROOT doesn't allow that kind of individuality, Kakashi. Not from me, not even from you, and not from a couple of chunin low-profile enough that most of the village never realised they went missing.”

That…that is a very good point.

Which puts Kakashi right back at square one. “I don't suppose you've got a theory?”

“Not even one.”

“Perfect,” Kakashi sighs once more, as is his right as an overworked, overstressed, overtired veteran jonin. “I guess I'll do some digging.”

Chapter Text

The interns are hovering again.

Inoka’s in T&I’s training room, finishing up some chakra-strengthening exercises before the mindwalk she has scheduled for this afternoon. On the other side of the room, the handful of interns they have left are going through the motions of stretching while they half-openly gawk at her. One or two appears to be actually focusing on target practice, but even they have their heads on a swivel every time she moves.

Inoka is aware she’s something of an oddity to the interns, decidedly not one of them but also too new to easily slot into the T&I veteran category. They’re still trying to figure out how to navigate that distance, and neither Ino nor any of the sub-basement’s other regular employees are inclined to help them figure it out. The ones that are left are still not the most promising batch of recruits in the world, but Inoichi might still recommend some of them to Intel, if they demonstrate enough vital curiosity. 

A couple have some promise in that area, if nowhere else.

“Yamanaka Inoka-san?” They also all jump when Genma speaks. Situational awareness is still something to work on, clearly. ANBU Jackal is head and shoulders into the room by the time he pipes up, plenty of time for them to register his presence if they were up to chunin standards.

Gen shows no sign of remorse for spooking the rookies, just enters the room fully, swinging himself gracefully over the railing of the observation deck to land beside her. Show off. She thinks, unable to fully hide her fond grin.

“That'd be me,” Inoka answers, tone stubbornly neutral in an attempt to salvage some professionalism from this encounter. “How can I help you, ANBU-san?” 

Genma, on the other hand, does not even try to be subtle about how funny he finds the feigned lack of familiarity. How the man has kept his identity so well hidden is beyond her. Certainly, he lives up to the Jackal name.

“Summons for you, Yamanaka-san” He offers her a scroll and she unrolls it far enough to see the Hokage's seal at the bottom before deciding the details can wait until she's not in an unsecured space with interns drifting ever closer.

“Thank you,” she answers, already gathering up her bag. Genma gives her a lazy two-fingered salute and ducks out the side door. Inoka follows two steps behind, pulling a stack of files from her bag with one hand as she pulls open the still-closing door with the other. The interns abandon any pretense of training to follow. Shamelessly nosy – there might be hope for them, yet.

A small pile of leaves indicating exactly how Genma's chakra signature left T&I so quickly greets her on the other side of the door.

“Cheeky bastard,” she mutters, shuffling the leaves closer to the wall before somebody slips or something.

“Do you…know him, Inoka-san?” asks Emiko, glancing at the rest of the little knot of mostly teenage chunin as if looking for encouragement.

“Who?” It’s such an absurd question that she has trouble processing it. “What, Jackal?” the girl nods. Ino squints at the group.

If they can't sort out who he is when they work together almost every day, she doesn't have high hopes for their careers in Intel.

Really, with the way things are going they might as well make knowing that particular secret a requirement for full hires. Ino takes back the optimism she’d just finished extending.

“Nope,” she lies, ignoring the cough from Shimon that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Okay, there's one promising intern, but she's been counting him as a given because she knows he was here last time. Honestly, she keeps forgetting he’s an intern at all. “Never met him in my life. Rude to leave a mess for us to clean up, though.”

“Maybe he’ll come back and do it himself,” Shimon suggests dryly. He’s been spending too much time with Ken and Ibiki, he’s starting to grow a twisted sense of humour.

As entertaining as this is, Inoka's got places to be. She heads off down the hall before any more questions can be raised. 

The door to Inoichi's office is sitting ajar, so she feels entirely justified not knocking before she enters. Anko never does. Or Mozuku. Or Genma or– come to think of it the lack of formality down here would probably kill a Hyuuga on sight. 

It's different when the department is called on to operate above ground, but in the sub-basements behind closed doors? Inoichi trusts his team enough to mostly ignore the specifics of hierarchy.

“Aren't you supposed to be on break?” Inoichi asks without glancing up from his paperwork.

“Can you take my mindwalk this afternoon?” she says, setting her stack of files on his desk. “I've been summoned.”

“Hm,” he nods and stretches. “Already?”

“You know something about this?”

“I have my guesses, certainly. It is that time of year.”

“What?” Ino's not used to being out of the loop anymore. It's an uncomfortable feeling, given how much is hinging on their memories these days.

Rather than explain, Inoichi just waves a hand, shooing her out of the office as he flips through the files. “It's fine, Inoka. Nothing worth stressing over. Go, don't make the hokage wait.”

She'd like to push for more information, but unfortunately he's got a point. Instead she sketches a bow and goes.

●●●

T&I isn’t far from the Hokage’s office, but the mission desk is inside the tower, so Ino’s not surprised to find Shikami is already there when she enters the waiting room outside of the hokage’s office. Well, no more than she’s surprised that they’ve been summoned together in the first place. 

Her first assumption is it’s about their encounter with Hidan, but if that was it then presumably they would have summoned Asuma too and he’s nowhere in sight.

Inoichi seemed so entirely unconcerned that she has trouble rallying up proper panic, but the uncertainty still rankles her. 

The door to the office is closed when she arrives and there’s no sign of a secretary. Ino slumps into the chair beside her brother, grateful for the momentary rest as the aftereffects of her chakra exhaustion still linger two weeks out from their return to the village. She’d never complain, obviously, but the respite is welcome.

“Any idea what this is about?” Shika murmurs, not taking his eyes off of the puffy clouds outside the waiting room window.

“No clue. Inoichi didn’t seem concerned.”

“Neither did Kimmi.”

“Kimmi knows?” Not to cast aspersions against Kimmi but…well…Ino would hope they had a better understanding of what was going on in the village than fifteen-year-old peacetime chunin.

Shikami snorts, nodding. “Yep, seemed excited, even.”

“What are we missing?”

Before they have the chance to speculate further, they're directed into the office. Inoka levers herself out of the chair and pretends she hadn't been half-hoping it would take a little longer.

They enter, kneeling before the Sandaime. 

“Inoka-kun, Shikami-kun, I trust you are recovering well?” it's only a hint of familiarity to ask, but it's a hint more than most people are afforded.

Feels weird, but she supposes they did bring his son home in one piece. Shika had mentioned something about earned favour, but she'd still been in hospital and pretty spacey at the time.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, good. Now, as I'm sure you're aware, the jonin exams are fast approaching.”

Oh. 

Right. That. Well at least they're not actually forgetting something. It just…well it's not exactly been a priority. They've sort of had other things to worry about.

“Yes, sir,” they repeat after enough of a pause that the hokage can certainly tell that they were not aware, actually. At least not actively. He must notice, but he doesn't comment, only nods.

“I was surprised to see the two of you had not applied for promotion.”

It’s going to be that kind of meeting, is it? Honestly, Ino’s kind of surprised the Sandaime is being so direct.

Now, granted, nobody’s denying that they’re qualified, but plenty of qualified chunin don’t apply for promotion in a given year, especially not coming off of a long mission like they are. Besides, outside of wartime it’s general practice not to push chunin towards seeking promotion. 

While it might seem counterintuitive for leadership to be so casual about promotion, the fact of the matter is right now Konoha needs chunin more than it needs jonin. 

Jonin are vital to war, but chunin are vital to structure. They’re capable enough to trust with the vast majority of mission assignments, but usually not flashy enough to end up in bingo books or draw merc attention. They can switch back and forth between missions and bureaucratic work depending on what is needed, and are still in the village enough to have the sort of semblance of personal lives that keeps shinobi populations steady. The day-to-day of the village runs on the backs of its chunin.

Yet they’re not at war – the only people who really know how close war looms are Inoka and Shikami, and no one they’ve given even an inkling of what’s to come is in this room – and still Hiruzen is questioning their judgement on the matter.

It's fine. That's fine. An honour, really. It's just they'd been banking on avoiding jonin status long enough to ensure they don't mess up the genin sensei picks for the upcoming graduating class. 

They spend a lot of time with those kids, and it's not like they can explain to the powers that be that switching up the leaders of teams seven, eight, and ten would add a layer of unpredictability to the timeline that could only lead to bad things. Shikaku might have broad authority over team assignments, but he still needs good reason to tell the council.

Inoka focuses on the logical reasons to avoid promotion for a while. Jonin have more eyes on them, which is scrutiny they really don’t need while they’re dealing with Danzo, and changes to the genin teams creates more timeline variation than they’ve accounted for. 

She stubbornly ignores the part of her brain that insists those teams can't change. Can't, because they were one of the precious few things done right the first time. Can't, because Kakashi and Kurenai and Asuma all deserve the chance to love those kids. To have a chance to teach them under better circumstances.

Being promoted is no guarantee that they'd be called to teach, but it's not a risk either of the pair was willing to take. Certainly not with the vanishingly small number of jonin fit to be around children. Even Kakashi is pushing it, really.

Maybe it's a selfish priority, but Ino's never claimed to be unbiased.

None of it can be helped now, they're in no position to deny the will of the hokage. And the sort of weakness it would show to make some excuse about ‘settling in’ isn't one they can afford around a man neither fully trusts.

Instead she smiles a rueful smile and says: “we didn't think we'd be able to get the recommendations in time, sir.”

Completely plausible. They haven't been here long. Three recommendations and a stellar mission record are the bare minimum to qualify for the exams. 

Their mission records are both spotless – on the technicality that they’re only two entries long – but Inoka hasn’t asked anyone for a recommendation, and she can’t imagine Shika has either.

“Is that so?” asks the Hokage, looking surprised but not overly concerned. Ino’s not optimistic enough to think he’ll let it lie until next year after going to the trouble of summoning them, so she just waits for the other shoe to drop.

“Yes, sir,” Shikami confirms.

“Well, then, that is all the more impressive,” he muses, looking down to rifle through a file cabinet. Ino exchanges a confused glance with her brother.

The hokage pulls out a pair of folders. Flipping open the top one, he reads: “Yamanaka Inoka, seven jonin recommendations, five tokubetsu, two chunin, and, inexplicably, one from pre-genin Yamanaka Ino. Now, I'm not sure how the young Yamanaka heiress gained access to the formal recommendation procedures, but that is still more than triple the required number.”

He opens the second folder. “Nara Shikami, seven jonin, four tokubetsu, five chunin, and… ah, yes. You also have a complaint on your file, Shikami-kun.”

Shika looks momentarily perplexed, but Inoka's too busy forcing a laugh down to comment. She knows what it is immediately, of course, because she's been waiting for the day the mission desk incident comes back to haunt him.

She watches the moment it dawns on him with glee. He doesn't quite sigh to Hiruzen’s face, but it's a near thing. “Oh,” he mutters, one eyebrow twitching a tiny bit with well-concealed irritation. “I was not aware of that.”

“Yes, well, given the several other complaints filed around that incident do not concern you, it shouldn't pose any problems with your candidacy for promotion.”

“I appreciate the reassurance, sir.”

“Indeed. Now, I'm sure you're aware that I am not holding meetings with every chunin in the village,” he smiles, meeting each of their eyes. 

Always happy to lean into the kindly old grandfather persona when it suits him, Inoka could almost fall for it if she didn't know exactly what he's capable of.

Still, Ino's a shinobi, she can appreciate the demonstration of acting prowess if nothing else. She smiles back, acknowledging the implicit compliment that he's taking the time to meet with her.

“However,” the Sandaime continues, “given the sheer volume of support you have received, it seemed wise to touch base. I understand you've officially registered as a pair?”

“Yes, sir.” Obviously, Ino has no interest in being separated from her brother, her grounding tie to what – and who – they left behind. Especially not in the field.

“Very good. Well, I understand registration for the jonin exams is something you will have to discuss amongst yourselves. In the meantime, however, I wanted to personally express my support for your participation.”

And that's about as close to an order as they're going to get in peacetime.

●●●

Shikaku doesn't look up from his work when Shikami enters, only waves vaguely as the door clicks shut and thick privacy wards go up. 

The wards are very nearly as good as the Hokage's own, one of Shikaku's only requests when he took the job. A test, more than anything, to see if the Yondaime was willing to trust his officers.

Minato designed them himself, drew every matrix in the room over the course of an afternoon. Shikaku was left wondering why he'd ever felt the need to check.

They're handy, now, for keeping secrets from a kage Shikaku will never trust that much. Who he apparently can't even trust not to turn a blind eye to kidnapping. To bloodline theft. To mass-fucking-murder.

He wonders if Minato’s own trust wasn't displaced, in thinking the Nara could do this. Turns out he couldn't even see treason happening right under his nose.

Shikami perches on the edge of the desk, leafing through a folder idly. “You have time for a game?”

“I need to finish this first, at least.” Shikaku's been staring at this next round of genin prospects for days, trying to sort out what he's meant to do with five major clan heirs, the recently displaced Hyuuga heiress, and the jinchuriki.

Shikami scoffs, pulling the stack of files away from him and rifling through them.

Teams start to take shape. Ino-Shika-Cho first – most obvious – alongside Sarutobi Asuma. No news there, Shikaku has heard some about team ten in fits and bursts and read more in the silences.

A trio of clanless boys are arranged as team nine, paired with a veteran instructor with three successful chunin squads already on his record. 

Next in line, the shy Hyuuga girl is set alongside the loudest and quietest boys in her class and assigned to Yuuhi Kurenai. Shikaku doesn't know Kurenai well, but he knows that she's a fresh face in the jonin ranks. A difficult team by any standards, and especially for a newbie.

“You know I need more than a ‘trust me’ to give the council, right?”

“Honestly, I have no idea how they got through the first time. They have complementary skill sets, which I'm sure helped, but even still.”

“And yet.”

“They're friends, this time around. Especially the boys. Shibi and Tsume get along and they're both…civil with Hiashi, so no tension there.” A feat, these days. Hiashi was never particularly easy to get along with, even when they were younger. Since Hizashi died? Well, it's certainly enough of a case for the team, especially for a first draft. Not that he really expects it to change. 

Though there have been rumblings about giving teams to Inoka and Shikami if they make jonin.

In the tiny, optimistic part of his mind that hasn't yet been starved out by cynicism, Shikaku thinks it would be good for them. Training the kids, taking them out on missions, building something new. It was the logic that got Kakashi tapped for the job.

It will also go over like a sack of bricks right now, so Shikaku keeps his mouth shut. Maybe if they can get Tsunade back and the kids can remember how to actually rely on people again. Maybe next year.

Right now, he's just doing his best to keep their names out of that conversation as much as possible.

Shikami seems to have read his silence for the acceptance it was, and moves on. On the desk, team seven takes shape.

Haruno Sakura, Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, and Hatake Kakashi. A mess of power and trauma. The strongest team in generations.

“What did Sakura do to deserve that?” the first Sakura, at any rate.

The version Shikaku knows is good friends with Naruto, and – for better or for worse – is already strong and talented enough to be on people's radars.

Shikami snorts, shifting off of the side of the desk into a chair. “Absolutely nothing. The whole team had awful luck.”

“You still want them together again.”

He nods, staring at the neat line of files. “They were a great team.”

“Once they stopped trying to kill each other?” Still, Shikaku pencils in team seven accordingly. Shikami laughs at that, a nice change from Shikaku's talent for putting his foot in his mouth when discussing his son's past.

“Oh, they never stopped trying to kill each other.” He lines up teams one through six quickly enough, waving a hand at them. “Half of them opted straight into the genin corps, the other half won't pass. Neither will team nine.”

“Did you change anything?”

“Couple of things. Some jonin senseis are only in it for a power trip, kids don't need that.”

“Thought you said they all failed.”

“They still deserve a chance.”

“Of course.” Kid keeps insisting he knows he can't save everyone, but Shikaku has yet to see any evidence. The Nara aren't much for speaking their feelings, so the clan head doesn't tell Shikami how proud he is, but he knows he knows.

“You recommended me for jonin,” Shikami says out of nowhere. So they finally get to the point of this impromptu visit.

“I did. So did Ino and Cho. So did pretty much everyone you've worked with since you got back.” The level of support has been sort of baffling, really.

“I didn't apply.”

“I know.”

“Why did you recommend me, then?”

“You should be a jonin.” It's not complicated, and as much as Shikaku suspects the time travellers don't have an accurate accounting of their relative strength in this time – they've got skills forged in the end of the world, and they take them seriously for granted – even they must know that much.

“Still, I–”

“You don’t want a team, I know that. I'm doing my best. But nobody can argue your skills, and you're in the Kiri bingo book now. Besides, you want to go out on the sort of missions that cross paths with Tsunade? Those missions are going to jonin candidates to help them prepare for the exam. I can't work miracles, son.”

Shikami deflates, staring at the neat stack of future genin teams. “I know. Sorry, I know.”

“You're worried about leaving them behind.”

“I'm not…”

“I know you better than that.” He's half expecting Shikami to argue that point, but he just nods.

“It's stupid.”

“It's human,” Shikaku corrects. “You're human.”

No answer is forthcoming. The jonin commander finishes up the preliminary roster in silence. 

Eventually, Shikami caves. “When's the exam?”

“You've got a couple months.”

●●●

Usually, the trouble with getting a report to Jiraiya is finding a second when nobody is watching over his shoulder. 

Akatsuki is a paranoid group on a good day, and this is not a good day. Hidan is dead – not exactly a personal loss to anyone, but a blow to their numbers nonetheless – and Orochimaru defected. By all rights, it should be impossible to smuggle any information out right now.

Instead, Itachi finds himself on a solo mission in Lightning, poking around for the Snake. They're scattered to the wind lately, the strict partner structure that's been part of the organization longer than Itachi has cast aside. It's disconcerting. It's barely scratching the surface of the recent shift.

 That's the root of the issue with this report – knowing where to start. Hidan's death will have to be included, of course. Orochimaru's defection as well. 

And then…what? The shattering of their structure? Something will need to be said about Madara as well, about his increasingly erratic behaviour (as though it weren't erratic enough). About his distraction. And about Kisame's griping before they parted ways that he didn't want to be anywhere near Kiri now that the Mizukage's ‘really fucking lost it’.

Itachi has earned every reputation he's ever had, including one of genius. One unstable homicidal maniac snapping is believable. Two at once? Not something the Uchiha is willing to take for coincidence.

He settles into a desolate little cave for the night and begins to compose his report. If Madara has something to do with Karatachi Yagura's personality shift, Konoha needs to know.