You slap the scroll onto your forehead (with the metal key), making it stick with chakra and walk past the bathroom with short, staccato steps. The sound of running water is loud in your ears as you walk by. The thin chain hangs around your neck, a reminder of what had happened before. Not that you'll forget the moment. Not that you'll forget anything that happened today. Or yesterday.
A rather confusing turn of events if you list them all in chronological order, really.
Ataru's arm. You need to find a way. You can't face him if you can't. The big question being, are you willing to delve into kinjutsu if fuinjutsu doesn't have the applications or formulae you need? Are you? You... Can't answer that right now. It's almost like defying direct orders from your superior. Kinjutsu is labelled kinjutsu for a reason. Forbidden. Illegal. Against the rules.
If there's one thing Hound has taught you in his many attempts of dodging his responsibilities is that rules are meant to be bent, skirting around the corners to find very specific loopholes you can step into without getting yourself into trouble.
He is supposed to be your sensei now and you, his formal apprentice (Hokage's orders, both of you can't defy his orders). You suppose you shall try to learn what he has to offer starting with his first lesson.
By bending the rules.
A key to Naruto's apartment. He has something in him, that disgusting, bubbling chakra that erodes at your skin almost like acid eating away at metal faster than you can say help. The ANBU squad that watches him day and night (why would an ANBU squad be near him at all times?). The seal formulae on his stomach that you're certain you've never seen before in the fuinjutsu library.
It's strange. Very strange. Why would an orphan boy be guarded by his own personal ANBU squad that only answers to the Hokage himself? The very same orphan boy that bears one of the most complicated set of seals on his stomach, written in a script that's long gone unused?
That pale boy touching your shoulder and warning you about Shikamaru's impending Kagemane (why would he help you? Isn't Danzo in the same faction as the rest of the Clan heads?). The fight at the size of a really big explosive tag with a fallout to match. The fact he possesses a report on you that's thick enough to be as tall as a slice of short cake. His accusations that impales you through your chest, piercing through your skin, your flesh, your bone. It stops right in front of something that clinks.
The mirror of your heart. You can't believe he actually said that but it did succinctly gets the point across. The point being that your mirror doesn't do it's fucking job. According to Shikamaru.
Your heart clenches at the thought. You don't have the ability nor the allowance of trust for that to happen. The situation you're in doesn't give you the freedom of allowing the use of that particular thing.
It's useless to you.
What's the point of opening up to someone else when it's either use or be used? You're going to step your way to the very top, your subordinates don't need to know every inch, nook and cranny of your mind, body and soul only for them to dissect you for weaknesses. No way you're going to let that happen to you. No friggin' way.
You halt in your tracks right in front of the bathroom door. The beige bathroom mat at the corner of your vision. The scroll almost un-sticks itself from your skin but you keep the chakra even on your forehead. A smooth spread of peanut butter. Smooth spread. Filling in all the cracks, keeping all of them together.
So many questions. An endless amount only to be shelved for later. You'd deal with them one by one.
A deep breath.
"Ittekimasu." You say loudly over the rush of water, clutching the bundle of your clothes closer to your chest. Your heart starts slamming against your rib cage and your vision starts to spin.
Another deep breath.
You're about to continue walking away when the water abruptly stops. The knob of the shower creaks shut with a loud squeak.
"Itterashai." A quiet voice comes from within the bathroom.
You had to do a double take. What? Did he just?
The knob squeaks back on and the water comes out full force, pattering against the tiles. The gold chain around your neck is cool against the curve of your bone. You're wearing the Uchiha mon, a brand, the crest of a dead clan. You can't decide whether to feel conflicted by the shackles or be pleased that he's basically opening his doors to you.
Getting gifted another clan's crest is something special. It means being accepted into their threshold, their fold, their flock. Into their company. A token that they've accepted you within their ranks.
You can't hide the smile that's starting to spread across your lips as you descend the stairs and enter the kitchen on your left. Dumping the clothes somewhere else, you help yourself to searching the cupboards for the containers of tea that he keeps away. Sasuke's such a dork.
He doesn't drink genmaicha at all. He hates it.
That's your favorite whenever you came over, only because Itachi kept serving that to you and- yeah. Yeah. It also doesn't help that Mikoto-san kept cooking ebi tempura for lunch which made the genmaicha even more crucial for the wellbeing of your stomach.
You find the metal tins with the loose leaves on the upper right shelf. The expiration date on the top of the container informs you that he's bought this specific tin just this month. Was he expecting you to visit for the scroll? Heh. He knows you well. He knew for sure you'd come back for the scroll.
You run your fingertips over the top of the tin, tapping noisily as you let out a breath that sounds like half a scoff and half a laugh.
You put the tin back and place the kettle on the stove top, clicking the stove on. Then you search the tins for a particular type of tea that you know Sasuke actually drinks. Aha, found it. Gyokuro leaves. The most expensive type of tea leaves in the market. You twist the container around to examine it. This tiny little bottle costs more than all of your belongings combined, granted you don't own much.
The kettle goes off. You take it off the fire and sprinkle some of the leaves into the pot, making sure to pick up a sparing amount with a pinch of your fingers and into the kettle. The faint, steady stream of water turns off. He's about to enter the bath to soak his body. You bring the kettle upstairs with a cup, yours. The one repaired with gold.
"I brewed some Gyokuro. I'm leaving it on your desk. Drink up before it gets cold." You say as you pass the bathroom, kettle and cup in hand, towards his room and placing them there.
"Yeah." You hear a muted non-committal response from the depths of the bathroom.
You shunshin downstairs, grab your things and shunshin your way back home.
____
You stand before your archaic looking wooden house that seems like it hasn't taken a step out of the Warring States era almost a couple of centuries ago. The Yamanaka clan gave you this house, gave you their clan name, gave your brother their training and clan jutsu. A paltry sum, considering how much they took away from you.
But that's what it is. A place for you to sleep. Not your home (you've never once thought of it as home in the traditional sense. Yes, it may be a house where you live in, but not your home).
You dump all your clothes into the little washing machine at the end of the kitchenette. Peeking down your chest and pinching the collar of the shirt that Sasuke lent you, the red of the glass emblem glints back at you. It's still a little strange for you to be wearing this.
Courtesy dictates that you should wear this out of politeness.
But what about missions? Will this be a liability once you go out on missions again? You bite your lower lip as you run your fingers over the delicate red and white glass.
You remove the shirt and dump it with the rest of the laundry before heading upstairs to change into your spare clothes.
Tucking the emblem into the folds of your collar and inside your shirt (you hardly wear shirts, this must be one of Brother's. Given the size and how loose they are on you. Come to think about it, you don't think you've ever seen Brother in casual clothing. Just a lot of dark sleeveless shirts and ANBU armor).
You clutch at your chest tightly, encasing the glass crest with the extra fabric of the shirt.
You walk past the standard issue backpack that's been lying on the floor since your last checkup at the hospital, right after debriefing. Hound probably sent someone to drop it off at your house. She's lying at the side of the bag, the air around her scabbard almost thrumming with energy.
Almost as if she's telling you to put her back on the display that she's usually propped on.
You blink.
Your body moves before your mind can process your thoughts and you find yourself grabbing her scabbard and placing her at her rightful place by the doorway. You take in a deep breath and look at your hand. Then back at her.
Don't think too much about it. Don't.
You clench your fist and tuck the scroll and key into your shorts, exiting the house from the genkan. You'll put aside your equipment later. Tomorrow. Before your daily training with Keirai. Momentum, you're going to get a head start from the momentum that the summoning contract will give you. Cards, you should play your cards right.
Don't think and get stuck in a vicious cycle. Move. You have to move.
You have to move forward.
____
You perch yourself on Ino's windowsill, balancing your upper body almost precariously by the tips of your toes as you peer inside her room through the curtains. She's bent over her desk with a pencil in her right, writing in her journal or something, her long hair framing the side profile of her face as she's deep in thought. Scribbling away on the surface of the parchment with soft skritches as graphite scratches over the rough mulberry paper, likely about her day and the dinner. About you?
Maybe a little about Sasuke.
You've honestly always thought that that's the way you should show your affection, your respect, by giving Ino as much privacy and space as possible (because that's what you've always wanted, space and privacy. The two things you lack). But what's stopping Father from using her connection with you against you? No. You can't use that excuse with yourself anymore.
Use or be used. You'll just have to come out on top.
That mirror should be of use, lest it rusts and turns murky.
"Ino." You call out in a gentle voice, legs dangling as you drop into a sitting position. You didn't want to surprise her, like before but it seems that she is.
"Hey," She calls your name, shoulders jolting a little when she hears you by the window, "You surprised me there." Ino blinks once, twice. To make sure she isn't seeing things, "You're back."
"I am." You nod, feeling small in Brother's really big shirt. You brush your fingers around your collar, wanting to adjust the chain but you decide against it when your hand is half-way up your chest. So you touch the bottom of your jaw instead, transitioning into an awkward neck rub. Then moving your fingers around your other wrist.
Ino snaps the book on her desk shut and places it in her drawer, a grin growing on her face, "You finally realized why I arranged the dinner, huh?"
"Mhm," You nod, lips curving into a small smile, "Thanks."
"I didn't get to say it before because I wanted to surprise you. Then Papa sorta whisked you away into his study and then I couldn't," She parts her fringe and tucks it behind her ear. Ino looks pretty with her hair down. Ino has pretty hair, "Happy Birthday. Congratulations on turning twelve!"
Your hand breaks it's hold around your wrist to touch your hair for a brief moment, combing your fingers through the sides of your hair, "Thanks Ino. I-" The words get stuck in your throat, "I. I appreciate it. Want to have a sleepover? In your room?"
Ino is momentarily stunned by your proposition. She blinks her pale blue eyes twice, "What? Did you just- A sleepover? This is- I didn't expect you to say that, but yeah. Yeah, sure." She clicks the desk lamp off and moves to her bed, throwing the blankets off and sliding underneath. Legs first. Her room descends into darkness, with only the soft illumination of the moon for company.
She scoots over to the far end and pats the empty space beside her, "C'mere!"
You laugh, nodding your head as you made sure your feet touch the special mat that she set aside for you (You've always entered from the window, it's just a whole lot easier for her to set aside a small space for your sandals so her wooden floors doesn't get dirty). Unzipping and removing your shoes, you slowly slip into the bed beside her.
Ino giggles softly, wrapping her warm hands around you and pulling you close to her, tucking her chin over the top of your head, "It's been a while since we've done this. Doesn't this bring back memories?" Her words has a hint of nostalgia weaved into them, likely because the last time the both of you slept together was before you left. You're sure she meant the other times you've slept over.
"Mmm," You make a noise of acknowledgement and bury yourself into the crook of her shoulder, hugging her tight. There's a faint scent of milk and lavender from the various lotions and tonics she used on her skin. It smells flowery and feminine, and oddly calming. I guess that's supposed to be the point of the scents. To create a calming atmosphere before sleep, "You can't sleep lately? You don't usually wear lavender."
She stiffens in your hold, barely noticeable in your arms but you feel the tenseness of her muscles, "Aha, you got me. Yeah. You're right. I just can't. Couldn't," Ino positions her arms so that she can embrace you more comfortably under the sheets. You didn't see the telltale signs during dinner, her under eye bags are barely noticeable. Must be because she takes care of her skin, "But I think I can sleep now with you here."
Oh. She's worried about you. To the point of being unable to sleep. Oh. Something quivers between your rib-cage.
"Nice shirt, by the way. Hakunetsu's?" She picks at the material of the shirt and rubs it between her fingers.
"It's big," You say into her shoulder, "I don't have anything to wear- I mean, I haven't been doing laundry for a while." Don't notice the chain. Don't notice the chain. You shut your eyes, something hot sparks the low embers in your stomach.
"Hehe," She laughs softly, "Well you're back and that's all that matters. I won't ask about the mission. Don't want you getting in trouble for divulging details."
Both of you hug each other in the dark, with only the sounds of gentle breathing and muted heartbeats filling the room and your ears. The warmth of her body on your skin is oddly comforting, making your eyelids feel like lead over your eyes. The curve of the scroll bumps against your hip, the metal teeth of the key digs into your thigh but you can't take them out. It's nice and warm.
You're tired.
Nice. Warm. Tired. A perfect combination for a cocktail called sleep.
"I got you something," You mumble into her skin through the thick haze of slumber, your fingers curling over the necklace underneath your shirt tightly so it won't get loose, "I dunno if ya'd like them, so I got you a couple of things. I'll give them to you when academy ends. Ah, but you'll be with Shikamaru and Choji right? That'll be... troublesome for me..."
The pillows are soft against your head, drifting among fluffy clouds in the sky. You no longer know what you're talking about, the lavender scent wafts up into your nose, acting like a physical and mental relaxant. The kinks in your neck and back softens as your body releases it's tension in them.
Ino shifts beside you.
That's the last thing you remember.
____
Ino clenches her fists, her arms still snug around you. A hot flash of shame spreads around her neck, the soft strands of your hair brushing against her skin, feather light. Your body that feels so small and tiny in her arms.
She misses you. She's worried about you. She loves you oh so much.
Ino admits that she's been slightly envious of you since you get to spend more time with Sasuke but you're still her imouto. Selfless love, that's what the Yamanaka Clan's signature flower means in the language of flowers.
Her mind boils and churns with the thoughts of Sasuke. Dark eyed, dark haired Sasuke. Then there's you. You. You. In the middle of a murky sludge of envy, you stand there in the middle. Radiating a pure hot flame of white chakra from within. She recognizes that flame from anywhere, that flicker like switch in her mind whenever you appear by her windowsill.
That's why she jumps whenever you shunshin to her windowsill, the lag between the flicker and you physically appearing at the corner of her vision gets increasingly shorter each time you visit (It scares her).
You've gotten faster. The rapid improvement of your skills since you've come back only sends the alarm bells ringing loudly in her head.
Something happened, she knows it. She feels it in the wavelengths of your chakra, the way it quivers and shakes in your insides like a radio signal gone wrong. There's something else in there with you. Something else. She can't put a name or words into it. A lot of foreign somethings. And sometimes it's just so mushed up that it blends into the white.
It becomes more apparent after these two months of not seeing you (three. It was supposed to be three. Thank god, whichever god that is willing to accept her prayer, even the Nara's Deer god that it's just two).
When was she able to pick you out in the middle of the crowd? In the middle of the forest? When was she able to hone into your chakra signature like a bee to flowers?
When was she able to recognize you by chakra alone?
Knowing your chakra signature like her own is almost a curse. It feels strangely empty when you're not there.
There's so many things she doesn't know. Shikamaru won't tell her. Father won't tell her. Choji doesn't seem to know anything about the whole situation. It's a cluster-fuck of red, red tape she has no business of crossing. The shinobi business thrives on a need-to-know basis and apparently she doesn't need to know all these things.
(A little. Just a little. She feels envious of the amount of time you spend with Sasuke.)
You're finally home. You got her exotic gifts from out of the village (she can only assume).
She wonders why you smell like Sasuke's shampoo and why you're clenching the chain around your neck like it's the only possession you own.
____
You wake up with your palm tight around the chain around your neck. Ino has loosened her hold around your body in her sleep, an arm below you. Your clenched fist leaves deep wrinkles around the collar of your shirt that stretches it to irreparable lengths. Well. Brother isn't awake to scold you for it hah.
That stings (yay, for burning your own goddamn self).
You uncurl your fist like peeling wrapping paper open and move to sit up. Okay, good. The metal of the key and the uncomfortable bump of the scroll is still in your shorts. Good. All the things that you personally own is still on you. Not that you're suspecting Ino but you're deep in enemy territory.
Father. Keirai. Shinobi who watch your every move, shinobi who report back to both Father and Keirai.
Deep breaths, you remind yourself, deep breaths.
You live and breathe for the sake of the village. Don't think. Move. You can't get stuck in the whirlpool of emotions that just leads you back into your own personal hell. Do your part. For yourself. Not for anybody else.
Pressing your lips to her forehead, you lift your body up from the bed as lightly as possible so you don't wake her up and go back to your wooden house to prep for the upcoming training session.
____
"Again."
Keirai catches your chin with the tip of his toes and sends you flying up into the air.
Everything blurs and you hear a dull thud of flesh against bone ringing in both your ears. The impact of his kick rattles your brain and your vision something good. Spots of light in your good eye. With great luck (and skill, you'd like to think), you manage to prevent yourself from biting down onto your tongue. Jumbled thoughts. A thick, smokey smog of confusion, eddying. Whirling ten different directions in your mind.
You don't know which way is up or down. It's all just air. Space in which you exist in.
The air whistles past you as you feel yourself reaching the peak of your ascent.
He's not going easy on you. Today's training is different. So much more different (read, violent) compared to his previous classes. He's sparred with you before but not like this. The force behind his kick- He means it.
You twist your airborne body in a way that drops you back on the ground into a crouch. Shisui's tanto tight in your right hand as you position yourself to launch your body at him, using your legs as a springboard. Flashes in your eye. Bright spots. Your vision hasn't settled from that kick to your jaw.
You swing your arm in a clumsy arc in front of you, aiming for the insides of his thighs.
The tip of the blade falls short, slicing nothing. Your arm hasn't even reached it's natural path back to your side when you know he's going to punish your mistake. You close your eyes to brace yourself from the hit.
"Again," You hear Keirai's voice, "You need to hammer all this into your head if you're going to fight with without one eye."
He sticks his bokuto out diagonally beside him. The wooden blade hits your stomach and the force sends you hurtling into a forward spin on to the dirt. You grunt as it knocks the air in you, you feel your stomach collapsing within.
Keirai's using your advantage against you. Your speed.
His continuous blows are teaching your muscles to remember. To move. Always keep moving in combat.
Your muscles scream and ache with every bump against the ground before you break the last violent roll with a tumble. Right before colliding against the trunk of the trees. Keeping your body low, the adrenaline drains from your body. The sting underneath your chin grows more apparent by the second, skin feeling tighter as blood swells closer to the surface of your skin.
You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm your beating heart. Your abdominal muscles sing and screech an ode to pain in the sweetest crooning possible.
It takes all of your willpower not to throw up.
Breathe.
Think.
Analyze.
Calculate to compensate the loss of vision from your left eye.
Watch Keirai.
He brings up the bokuto in a forward stance, challenging you to come at him. Your brain filling up all the spots that are blocked by the white flashes in your vision. Right leg in front of the other. The arch of his bent knees blocked by the bagginess of the hakama. Your eye flickers from movement. Keirai shifts his weight to the front of his step. He's right-handed. You wait, muscles tensing. You don't move. You wait. Watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake.
Trust your body. Your body knows a lot more than you do.
You'll make your move the moment he comes for you.
The heavy folds of his hanten ripples as he primes himself to strike, lowering the tip of the wooden blade just a fraction. Keirai blurs into a blob of orange towards you. Close. Closer. Strands of your hair violently whips from the wind. You throw your body underneath him in between his legs, using the force of your arms to spin yourself uncontrollably forward. The sound of metal tearing against cloth and clinking against mesh armor.
Yes! You scored a hit!
"Good try," Keirai says. You feel his fingers around your ankle, "You fight like an Inuzuka, mistake number one. Closing your eye is your next mistake."
He flings your body like one would a rag-doll into a particularly hardy tree trunk. You fall to the floor, propping yourself by your forearms.
Keirai brushes some strands that have come loose from his ponytail behind his happuri.
"Again," He barks when his tight eyes catch yours, angling the blade of his bokuto towards the ground before raising it up again. You throw up a little in your mouth, leaving a disgusting aftertaste of bile as your arms quake to push your body off the ground.
At least you can say the bruises on your wrist are part of training now, right?
____
You do your best not to meet Shikamaru's dark eyes when you amble your way towards the academy to give Ino her presents like you promised. A particularly hard feat since he's right. Beside. Her.
You don't particularly feel like you're able to reflect anyone right now.
"Here." You say, your muscles shaking noticeably as you take Ino's palm in yours and you press her gifts into her hand, "A mouse shaped attachment for your hoop earrings, a porcelain flower pin and a small decorative vase for desk with little yellow chicks painted on them."
Ino's eyes curve as she looks at the gifts that you've gotten her but her eyebrows tell you a different story. She stuffs the vase into her kunai pouch behind her hips but slides the pin into her hair and attaches the ornament to her left earring, "Thank you, they're really wonderful." She reaches forward to touch your face, "What happened? You have cooling seals all over your body and under your chin?"
You move your chin in a subtle attempt to dodge her touch. You try not to notice the streak of hurt that runs in her eyes when you do. She lowers her hand, instead rubbing her upper arm as she stands before you. You just. You just don't want anybody to touch you when you're all hurt and beat up. With your tail between your legs like some injured animal.
Shikamaru reaches out to grab your hand.
You smack his hand away. He recoils from the corner of your eye.
"Keirai increased the difficulty in his training regime," You lift the corners of your lips into a practiced smile, squaring your shoulders into something relaxed. As relaxed as you can be when your muscles are screaming for relief, "Everything sort of, " You pause here as you try to hold back a wince, "Hurts."
They notice.
"Ah. Excuse me," You cut Ino off as she's about to speak, spotting a certain dark haired boy in a high collared shirt being followed by a couple of giggling girls, "I have to go."
You amble your way there, legs moving rather stiffly for it to be anything other than muscle burn.
"Sasuke." You say but he's already noticed you before you open your mouth to call out to him.
Sasuke stops right in front of you, his eyes scanning your body, resting a little too long on the white patches on the exposed parts of your skin. Both his hands are in his pockets but he pulls them out to receive the paper bag you're pressing into his chest.
"Here," You say, "Thanks."
His eyes trace the collar of your kimono as if he's looking for something.
You hook a finger against the folds to flash him a glimpse, furrowing your eyebrows and adjusting the corner of your lips into a wry smile when you catch the glint of gold in his dark eyes.
Sasuke lowers his tense shoulders in satisfaction when he sees that it's around your neck and tucks the paper bag underneath his arm, like some clipboard that Iruka-sensei carries around with him. You blink, looking around the entrance of the Academy for a few seconds, trying to see if you can spot a brown ponytail and a konoha-green flak jacket.
"Do I even want to ask why you have sealing paper all over you." He says, arching a brow.
"No," You say, "But you're asking now."
You spot a couple of your old female classmates gesturing at you in a way they think is subtle and whispering to each other past his shoulder. There's only one way to shut people like them up. You make a grand sweeping movement to draw attention to the hitai-ate on your person, adjusting it so that it reflects the light off the metal and lower your eyelids at them. The corner of your lips curling into a smirk. Got ya'. They seem to get the point and quickly hurry away down the road.
"You're drunk off your senior status." Sasuke says, looking at you with a hint of a smirk dancing on his lips as he crosses his arms and shifts his weight to his left.
You throw your hair behind you with a flick of your hand, ignoring the pain that is starting to sprout from the base of your neck and down your spine, "I should take the time to flaunt it before you graduate." Sometimes it's easier to hide what you're feeling under the mask of pretense. Interacting with Sasuke makes it easy, since you have plenty of points of reference to refer to.
The air around Sasuke changes, "Naruto and you are alike. In more ways than one." He reaches behind him and rummages around in his kunai pouch for something and tosses it towards you once he finds it. You reach out to catch it and you unfurl your fingers to see what it is. Ointment? It looks like it has the consistency of congealed jelly that's a milky opaque and smells suspiciously herbal.
Yeah, it's ointment.
"It's no good if you lie to me," He says, eyelids lowered and voice soft, "If it hurts, you should say that it hurts."
"Are you going to run crying to me then every time you get hurt when you're training? When you're in combat?" Your voice comes out from your throat sounding a little more hostile than you'd like. Hostile and cynical. Talking hurts. Moving your mouth hurts. You think you're starting to taste the coppery silver of blood in your mouth.
His eyebrows attempt to meet in a wrinkle as the corners of his eyes gets tighter.
You shove the bottle back into his hands, your eyebrows coming together. Heat burning up the front of your chest. "I don't need your pity." You don't need another reminder of how weak you are. Weak. Weak- No. You're not.
You're starting to understand why Sasuke acted the way he did all those nights ago when you asked him about that night.
You're reacting the very same way now.
You run your fingers down the sides of your jaw, pressing, massaging the bruised flesh under the pile of seals plastered all over them. The cold compresses. Seals that continue to circulate chill air through the strokes of the formulae scribbled over them. Your work. From hours of reading from Keirai's private fuinjutsu library after torture training.
The pain shocks you to reality. You use it to piece yourself together. Smile. Don't let anyone know how you're feeling. Shinobi must never show their weakness. While you can't bring yourself to put a smile on your lips, your face is no longer scrunched up into something horrible. You don't know where all of that comes from.
"Any way possible, remember?" You say as you push past him towards the hospital, "Any way possible."
You walk past a girl with pink hair that smells faintly of cherry blossoms.
____
Ino closes her mouth as she watches you approach Sasuke casually. He stops and turns his body to face you. A hint of a smile. That's strange. She wouldn't normally make a fuss about this but since you came back smelling like him. Not jealous. Not. Jealous. You like older men. She knows you don't like him that way.
There's so much secrecy. Always from you. From Shikamaru. From Father.
It's eating her from the inside.
She turns to look at Shikamaru, whose eyes are following you the entire time. A deep furrow etched into the space between his eyebrows, "Why did she smack your hand away like that?"
Shikamaru slouches his shoulders forward, more forward than she'd like for one of her friends to have poor posture and back pains when he grows older. He rubs the back of his neck in a way that he always does when he's reluctant to answer a question. "We fought." The only response she gets out of him.
"Did you annoy her with your complaining? You know you're not supposed to pick on the girl you lik-" Ino gets cut off by the drawl of his voice that teeters on the verge of turning into a a growl.
"I don't like her."
His eyes doesn't leave your back. The edges of his lips start to sink in deeper. That looks like behavior of a person who likes someone. The staring, not the visibly pissy attitude. Also that's not what he said before. Something happened for sure. Ino rests her palm on her right hip as she observes the two of you in the distance.
"She scared off the other girls following him." Ino states, then darts her eyes to the left to see the reaction on Shikamaru's face. Oh, one of the wrinkles on his forehead got deeper. Interesting. His fists start shifting in the depths of his pockets.
"She reacted like a wounded animal," Shikamaru says, "She only smiles like that when there are things she doesn't want to admit. When she's feeling defensive." He pauses, the wrinkles between his eyebrows shift slightly, " Why is she okay with him and not us?" He words this part almost as if he's repeating it to himself instead of wanting Ino to answer.
"I think you know the answer," Ino says, tone soft, "Sasuke's effectively the last of his clan. No elders around him to finesse her into things. There's nothing she can do to mess up the balance of political power between our clans." She rubs her right thumb and index fingers together.
Sasuke's eyebrows is furrowed. She can't hear what you're saying to him but the slight shifting of your feet and the posture of your shoulders gives her a general idea.
"I don't know about you, Ino, but she should know we're not our fathers," Shikamaru removes one of his hands from his pockets and rubs the back of his neck, which is starting to turn red, "What's so good about Sasuke anyway? He's-"
Ino gives him a pointed look. Shikamaru stops talking mid-sentence. They see you pushing past Sasuke and walking stiffly towards the inner village. Sasuke stands there with a white bottle in his hands and a paper bag under his arm, looking conflicted. Sasuke scoffs loudly and stuffs the bottle back into his kunai pouch, heading towards the opposite direction.
"C'mon let's go get Choji from the cafeteria. Again." She sighs, pulling Shikamaru away from the spectacle with her fingers around his wrist.
He lets her, eyebrows still furrowed together into a thick knot.
____
You press Brother's cool hand on your forehead, the chill calming you down more effectively than the cold compress seals around your body. What are you supposed to do? One to seven. Inhale. Three to one. Exhale. And repeat. You continue to hold Brother's hand in place as you chant the Yamanaka mantra under your breath.
The smell of disinfectant and sterile air makes the bile at the bottom of your stomach rise, up to esophagus, up to your throat. You can taste it at the back of your mouth. Burning. Bitter. Disgusting.
"Focus," Shisui's voice trickles into your eardrums, "No time to waste. Focus, little mouse."
Right. You need to focus. Focus. Momentum. Continue moving forward. Move. You need to move. One steady step at a time, away from the murky depths of poisonous bog in your mind.
You need to find Hound and fast.
You're just going to sit here for a couple more minutes before you leave. You just want the touch of Brother's hand on your head, a good luck charm. One last time. One-
The door slides open and an iryo-nin dressed in their usual white uniform comes into the room with a tray. Someone you've never seen before. You lift your head to look at him but it isn't one of Mother's usual girls. Furrowing your eyebrows and moving your hand behind you to grab onto the hilt of Shisui's tanto secured behind your hip, you stand up.
"Who are you?" You say, subtly posturing yourself to defend Brother if need be.
The iryo-nin adjusts his round glasses, glinting under the light. You can see a tuft of his silvery hair from under his hood, he looks much older than you but younger than Keirai. There are no wrinkles behind his glasses, an adult face. You peer closer with your good eye, he looks visibly taken aback that you're in the room almost as if he didn't expect anyone else to be with Brother but his shoulders are down, sloped. Relaxed.
"I'm a new apprentice," He says, "Under your mother. It's my first day on duty tending to your brother." He adds helpfully, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish way. His eyes and lips wrinkling into an embarrassed laugh, like he's been caught being unprofessional.
He doesn't give his name. Hmm, curious. The cord-string around the hilt squeaks from the pressure of your grip. Then again, it could be the new job jitters. Your fingers unwrap themselves from your blade and you lower your shoulders, parting your mouth to release the breath you've been holding in the entire time.
You watch him enter the room, pushing the trolley through the doorway. Tiny wheels squeaking over the tiled floors like an un-oiled waterwheels along the stretch of the Naka river that's smack dab in the middle of the village, it grates your ears and the bile in your throat threatens to overflow.
Nothing looks out of the ordinary. He's doing his job as Brother's attending medical officer, checking his IV drips and changing them, regulating his temperature, making sure that his patient is well cared for and comfortable. But there's a feeling at the back of your mind that tells you that something's not quite right.
If you make a scene right now, you might get thrown out of the hospital. Let it go, there's no point kicking a fuss when you don't have any concrete evidence that he isn't one of Mother's people. The paranoia is too deep-set into your brain, carved itself a statue from the gray matter in your skull.
"I'll leave you to it then." You drop your gaze to the floor, inclining your head in a slight bow as you walk past him.
"Gokurosama deshita." He chirps from behind your shoulder.
____
Hound's trail is cold. Ice cold. He didn't leave you a single clue or hint where he might go or be. You sit on the top of one of the electrical poles at the tallest point of the city for a bird's eye view, squinting your eye into a narrow slit as you comb the streets for any sign for a masked man with spiky, silver hair that's also dressed in full military garb.
You've been searching through all the spots you think he might be at. Training Ground Three which his friend(?) with the horrendous looking bowl cut has mentioned before. He's obviously not there. He also isn't at the hospital in the room that he usually shares with Brother. You're stumped.
You have no idea where he usually goes or what he usually does in his time outside of being hospitalized. Maybe it's his hobby? Being hospitalized? Other than reading novels of questionable content? For one, you know that he won't be assigned any missions out of the village for the time being.
You run your knuckles over the seal that's under your chin, the slight pressure making the pain flare.
The dossiers Father has on him only contains a basic psychological profile, a short rundown of his many accomplishments in the field. His name. Date of birth. Ninja registry number. The very basics. Nothing like that twenty page (double-sided) monstrosity Shikamaru has on you. You reach under your eye-patch to massage the itch that's starting to form, then moving them over the bridge of your nose to pinch it.
It hits you like a sharp jab to your gut. Everyone has dossiers and information on every other person of importance in the village. The bigger the pain in the middle of your forehead is starting to grow.
This is normal.
This is supposed to be normal. If a record exists, that means it's possible for it to be leaked to other villages (you'll have to think about how to prevent that). Unless, it's intentional? Father wanted you to find the files on Hound because he predicted that you'd try to get an edge on him because of his close proximity to Brother?
Whatever the case, it leads to;
Information gathering. One of the more important skills a shinobi is supposed to have. Gathering information on your mission and on your target in the least conspicuous way possible.
Is this the very first step of Hound's master plan to raise you to be one of the best ninja in the village? If you pass this test he'd finally let up and teach you all of the skills he has to offer?
You run your fingers down the sides of your face again, the jab of pain that travels up your jaw cements your train of thought as you nod to yourself, filled with a sudden surge of determination through your veins. It warms your body up. Sitting on the top of the highest point of the village is a rather bad idea in hindsight, there's no shelter from the wind and your haori can only do so much to keep the cold away.
Right. You can do this. But how will you be able to find him?
You hunch your shoulders over in Shikamaru's favorite sitting pose when he needs to think, setting your chin over the top of your knuckles as your mind wanders to connect everything together. Wind cuts through your skin like paper cuts through flesh, your hair blows into your face and it tickles you.
Konoha's messenger birds taking off from the aviary by the Administration building in the middle of the village. Huge birds of prey soaring into the sky at staggered intervals with wingspans larger than your body and scrolls attached to a harness on their backs. Must be nice, taking care of majestic creatures that can fly. You're a little envious.
You'd love to be assigned to the aviary instead of active duty.
Your eye follows a particular golden eagle with a spot of white underneath one wing that's soaring into the horizon as you recall Naruto's words to you. Something about training one of them so that they can follow you? How would the bird report back to him then if Naruto can't understand bird-speak? You drop your chin to giggle at the rather large, gaping hole of his 'master plan' when the rays of the setting sun hits your eye in a way that makes you look down at your obi to avoid the glare.
Something metal in the shape of a key glints back at you. Your face splits into a wide smile.
You know the perfect way to ambush Hound.
You just need a little time to collect all the information you need.
____
A/N: :))) The promised update. A lot of repressed emotions. A lot of compartmentalizing. Big plans, more training before the start of canon.