MISSION…
Staring at the tiny glass sphere in her palm, Sakura frowned in consternation. “Are you sure these things are safe? They don’t cause cancer or anything, do they?”
“Of course not,” Yoshinari assured her. “Why would you think that? It’s just a disguise capsule.” The monkey-masked ninja tilted his head to the side quizzically.
“The last time I used one of these, Anko said it would wear off in a few hours, but it lasted almost the entire day- and it turned my hair _green_!” Grimacing in disgust, Sakura set the capsule on the edge of the soap shelf and began undressing.
“Hmm… well, I don’t know all the details, but apparently it reacts to the user’s natural pigmentation, and your pigmentation is somewhat… unnatural,” Yoshinari noted diplomatically. “Does pink hair run in your family?” he asked.
“On my father’s side,” Sakura replied, blushing as she unhooked her bra and pulled down her panties. She knew it was just her imagination, but the pink-haired girl swore that she could feel his eyes drifting down toward her nether regions. No matter how many times Yoshinari saw her naked, he was still a man and she was still a woman- never mind the fact that he probably had no interest in her unripened goods.
“I remember you saying that the Hyuuga elders are pretty strict, but how _do_ they keep horny little boys and girls from using the Byakugan to peek?” Sakura wondered aloud. Kicking her clothes into the corner of the dry gang-shower, she dropped the disguise capsule at her feet. A shimmering cloud sprang up around her almost instantly, and Sakura watched as her skin quickly darkened from its usual pale ivory to a rich, milk & coffee tan.
Pulling her now spiky bangs before her eyes, Sakura sighed at their familiar, verdant hue. A curious glance below revealed that, yes, down there was also a slightly deeper shade of green. *I’m like a poinsettia.* Idly, Sakura wondered if there might not be some sort of long forgotten, plant-based bloodline in her family’s distant past.
“Children are taught from a very young age that it is wrong to use the noble Hyuuga bloodline frivolously,” Yoshinari explained, handing Sakura a flat bundle that was a bit too transparent. “On the rare occasion that a child is caught using the Byakugan inappropriately, they are made to apologize to the victim, losing face for both themselves and the clan.”
“Does that actually work- and by ‘mistake,’ do you mean ‘peeking’ or ‘getting caught?’” Unfolding the bundle, Sakura found that it was another much-hated mesh body stocking. This one terminated higher on the shoulder and thigh than the ones Temari wore. Sakura slipped on the garment with a grimace of disgust, praying that the ANBU had brought her something decent to wear over it.
Yoshinari’s casual motions echoed a bit of Sakura’s flippancy as he tossed her a pair of hip-hugging black knee-pants. “Have you ever been surprised by how one of your parents just seemed to ‘know’ that you’d done something wrong, even if they didn’t seem to know exactly what it was that you’d done?” he asked.
An image of her mother’s scowling face appeared before Sakura and a shiver of dread raced down her spine. “I guess so,” she replied with feigned nonchalance.
“Now imagine that your parents were Hyuuga,” Yoshinari suggested.
*If mom were a Hyuuga…* Those piercing silver eyes that could see right through you; the eerie way they always seemed to know what you were thinking; those terrible, stern faces, as hard as stone and twice as cold- “That would suck!” Sakura declared. “No little kid should have to grow up like that!”
“Well, perhaps it’s not _quite_ as bad as you imagine,” Yoshinari balked, passing over the breastplate next. “But it is definitely an environment that discourages disobedience.”
“Hmm…” Examining the lightly armored shell, Sakura saw that there were smaller plates woven into the fabric between the large, visible ones. *These are probably expensive to make,* Sakura guessed. That was one small mystery solved; she’d wondered why ANBU armor wasn’t standard issue for all ninja.
Pulling the breastplate over her head and securing the side buckles, Sakura found it to be comfortably snug. “Are these Asano-san’s again?” she asked, accepting the shin-guards from Yoshinari and kneeling to strap them on over her boots.
Shin-guards were the only piece of armor that she’d ever seen Anko wear, Sakura noted. *Kneepads,* she dubbed them with a small, knowing smirk.
“Indeed,” Yoshinari confirmed, stepping closer to help her with the forearm braces. “It’s fortunate that you and Asano-san are almost the same size.”
*Fortunate for me, but If I were Asano-san, I probably wouldn’t appreciate being constantly reminded that I have the body of a flat-chested thirteen-year-old.* Sakura almost felt sorry for the Hunter nin. “I should buy her a gift or something, since I’m always borrowing her clothes,” she decided. “Do you know what kinds of food she likes?”
Tilting his head back as if lost in thought, Yoshinari was silent for a moment. “She seems very fond of eggs,” he suggested.
“Eggs?” Sakura repeated; that was one she hadn’t heard before.
Yoshinari nodded. “She has a raw egg with her lunch every day.”
*What is she, a weasel?* Sakura thought, though she wisely kept her mouth shut. You never knew who might be listening. “Eggs don’t make much of a gift,” the small kunoichi noted in dismay.
“No, I suppose not,” Yoshinari agreed.
Once the forearm braces were secure, Yoshinari helped Sakura into a long, beige cloak. The final piece of her ensemble was the fox mask. As she ran her fingers over the scratches in the red and white paint of her mask, Sakura felt a little sad; it had gotten pretty beaten up during the war. *At least I didn’t lose it,* she mused. Heck, she was lucky she hadn’t lost the head it was attached to.
“If it breaks, I’ll find you a new one,” Yoshinari assured her.
“Thanks,” Sakura replied, slipping on her mask to hide her disappointment. It wasn’t just a ‘thing,’ after all. The fox mask was almost like… a promise, or a charm.
She’d worn a bird mask before, to conceal her identity as she dashed to and from her secret training sessions with Gai. Sakura often missed those times; she’d been pushing her body and mind to the limit, and the euphoria of hard work and discovery had made anything seem possible. After Anko had broken that mask, her relationship with Gai had fallen by the wayside and she’d been forced to curtail her research because of her ‘accident.’
Since she’d been given the fox mask, however, Anko had become her ‘mentor,’ Yoshinari had become her friend and confidant, Asano-san probably wanted to eat her and nearly everyone else who worked in the interrogation building seemed to at least know her name. It was… nice, for the most part; comfortable. Despite what she’d told Ino, Sakura didn’t want a new mask just yet.
“Sooo… I guess I’m ready,” Sakura declared. Taking a deep breath and releasing it to clear her head, the green-haired girl turned expectantly to her accomplice.
“Actually, there’s one more thing we need to do,” Yoshinari corrected. Drawing aside Sakura’s cloak, the ANBU formed a short series of seals and then grabbed her left shoulder. “This may sting for a moment,” he warned.
“Hmm?” Sakura didn’t have a chance to guess what the older man was up to before a thousand tiny needles began to dance up and down her skin underneath Yoshinari’s palm. “Ow!” Wincing, Sakura forced herself to stand still as the medical nin worked.
After a few seconds the needles were replaced by a cooling sensation that seemed to wash away the pain, and when Yoshinari lifted his hand Sakura could only stare at the ANBU insignia that had suddenly appeared on her arm. “I used your blood for ‘ink,’ so it should fade as your body heals,” the Hyuuga explained.
The abstract swirls of the tattoo were bright arterial crimson, like smears of fresh blood, but when Sakura scrubbed her fingertip across them they did not rub off or hurt. “That’s a neat trick,” Sakura commented numbly, wondering how long it would take for the mark to disappear. *This is _so_ gonna get me in trouble…*
§
Something was different today; Temari was certain that more than a minute had passed since she’d heard the door close, but the restraining wards hadn’t been deactivated. There also hadn’t been any pat down, which indicated that her most frequent gentleman caller was back once again.
“So what is it today, Monkey-Man?” she asked in a bored voice.
“Nothing special,” the Hyuuga lied, appearing at her side without so much as a breeze to mark his arrival.
Temari nearly jumped in surprise, but somehow managed to retain her composure. Never before had monkey-masked ninja approached her while she was bound. “Bullshit,” Temari called, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
This time, the tall ninja didn’t answer. Instead, he began running his hands up and down her body, gently poking at the spots that Temari now recognized as her tenketsu. Of all the changes she’d noticed, this was the most unnerving. She couldn’t think of anything she might’ve done to make her jailers tighten their security, but Monkey-Man was definitely treating her with extra caution today.
At least, that was what Temari thought until she realized that everywhere the ANBU had touched her, the strange, hollow feeling of blockage had disappeared. He wasn’t closing her tenketsu, he was opening them! Unable to help herself, Temari drew up a tiny trickle of chakra, sensitizing her skin to the air around her and reveling in the subtleties of ebb and flow that had eluded her for so long.
Now she could sense the ANBU’s presence, though it was still a fleeting thing, like a whisper on the wind. Every time his fingers drew close, Temari could feel an odd sort of turbulence swirling around them like a second skin, directing the air to flow by him without so much as a ripple. *Sneaky bastard.* Despite her position, Temari was grudgingly impressed. These Hyuuga really were monsters.
Finishing his work, Monkey-Man withdrew, disappearing from her field of vision and leaving her to wonder whether or not this change was really for the better. She was still restrained, so aside from boosting her senses there wasn’t a lot she could do. It also seemed very unlikely that they trusted her enough to leave her this way.
As Temari’s mind turned to darker possibilities, a new presence appeared in her sphere of perception. Unlike Monkey-Man, this intruder disturbed the air almost as much as a normal person, but for some reason Temari hadn’t noticed this tiptoeing bull until it was nearly on top of her. A moment later she understood why, as a familiar fox mask loomed over her left shoulder.
“You!” Temari gasped, before a pair of slender arms reached around her waist to capture her from behind. “Wha-?” The Hunter nin’s motions were not rough or violent, but Temari could feel hard armor plates pressing against her back as the woman drew her into a tight embrace. “What are you doing?” Temari finally managed, straining against her bonds in confusion.
In her nervous squirming Temari managed to knock off her captor’s hood, but the green-haired kunoichi said nothing. Instead, she continued to hug Temari in silence, and the blonde girl reluctantly settled down. This was probably why they had unblocked her tenketsu, but she had no idea what they were trying to do. Even with her enhanced senses, Temari couldn’t feel anything happening to her.
After a few minutes the small woman breathed a sigh of defeat. At some unseen signal she released Temari and backed away, but Temari didn’t allow herself to relax just yet. The soft clink of metal striking metal assaulted Temari’s ears as the Hunter withdrew, and a second later the fox-masked ninja approached her once more, this time from the side.
As the assassin ducked under Temari’s arm to stand in front of her, the blonde noticed that her ‘visitor’ was no longer wearing a cloak or breastplate, and only a thin mesh undershirt covered the woman’s chest. Now that she got a good look at the slight kunoichi, Temari came to the surprising conclusion the dark-skinned girl was even younger than herself, though Temari’s eyes didn’t miss the red ANBU tattoo that decorated the girl’s shoulder.
Taking a step closer, the Hunter began to undo the buttons of Temari’s jumpsuit, but this time Temari managed to keep her cool. “You could’ve told me to strip before you unblocked me,” she observed with a hint of annoyance. “Unless you just get a kick out of undressing pretty young girls?” Temari didn’t feel like she was in too much danger of being molested, but if she could get them talking one of them might let something slip.
Pausing, the Hunter brought her face very close to Temari’s, as if she were searching for something. For a moment the light of the overhead lamps managed to pierce the narrow eye-slits of the fox mask, revealing a sliver of amethyst on a field of white, but then the enemy ninja lowered her gaze. Apparently she hadn’t found what she was looking for.
Still not uttering a single a word, the ANBU finished her task and spread open the front of Temari’s jumpsuit. Reaching under Temari’s arms, the small ninja slipped one hand up through Temari’s collar and grabbed a handful of blonde hair, probably to keep Temari from biting. Then, without further ado, she leaned forward to rest her chest against Temari’s exposed torso.
For a second, it seemed like nothing was going to happen, but soon an intense tingling sensation began to tickle Temari’s breasts. “Aaah! What-?” Seeming to sense it as well, the ANBU pressed closer and the sensation began to spread, sweeping across her skin like waves of electricity. “Stop that!” Temari demanded, just as the invisible, crawling tendrils reached the base of her skull and everything went white.
§
“Ah!” Toppling backward as the girl in her arms seemed to explode into a cloud of static, Sakura felt someone catch her hand.
“Whoa! What the hell?” a strangely familiar voice called from somewhere above her. It sounded like a woman, but Sakura couldn’t quite put a face to it.
Cracking her eyes, Sakura received a shock when she found herself staring up at a woman that the spitting image of her mother- except that her mother didn’t normally wear Hidden Sand combat fatigues, complete with desert brown flak jacket and half-veiled forehead protector. “Oh, fuck!” Sakura blurted astutely.
Laughing, the Sand nin pulled Sakura to her feet. “That was my reaction too,” she agreed, releasing Sakura’s hand.
Not sensing any hostile intent from the enigmatic look-alike, Sakura took a cautious glance around. The dull gray concrete walls of Temari’s cell had been replaced by a long, open room done entirely in reddish-orange stone. Square windows with neither shutters or glass covered one wall, bathing them in a warm, diffused glow that seemed to come from very far away.
Two rows of low, backless benches marched from the doorway where they stood to the far end of the room, which was dominated by a long, shallow shelf that appeared to have been carved directly into the wall. In the center of the shelf rested a framed, black and white photograph, flanked on either side by pots of burning incense and stands of white flowers.
*A funeral?* Squinting at the picture, Sakura noticed for the first time that there were other people present. Like mirages, the mourners flickered and faded before Sakura’s gaze in an almost subliminal blur, barely lingering on her eye long enough to tickle her brain. The ones closest to the shrine seemed to be the most stable, but even they were hazy and indistinct… with one exception.
Standing directly before the shrine, Temari was staring at her hands in confusion. For a moment, it looked like she was about to turn around, but then her eyes landed on the photograph and her form wavered. Temari looked a bit smaller now- younger, Sakura guessed. Having shed her orange prison jumpsuit in favor of a black funeral robe, the solemn-faced child of perhaps twelve or thirteen closed her eyes and put her hands together in prayer.
Starting to feel a little less lost, Sakura turned back to her companion. “This is a dream, isn’t it?” she guessed.
“Bingo!” the tall woman crowed. “Ya figured that out pretty quick- go me!”
“So you _are_ me,” Sakura concluded, scrutinizing her counterpart more carefully. The doppelganger’s hair was hidden by a dust cloth that fell to the shoulders of her vest, but her visible eye was indeed green. “Why on earth are you dressed like _that_?” Sakura asked dubiously.
“‘Cause it’d be weird if I wasn’t,” the elder Sakura observed, quirking an eyebrow. “Allies or not, I doubt there were any Leaf ninja at _this_ guy’s funeral- and I could ask ya the same thing: what the hell is with that fuckin’ getup?”
Glancing down at herself, Sakura noted that she was still in her ANBU disguise. She was even wearing the armored breastplate again, but as she thought about it the garment in question abruptly vanished. “Wah!” Crossing her arms over her chest, Sakura blinked in confusion when the breastplate flickered back into being.
“Don’t let yer mind wander,” the tall woman warned. “Stuff in dreams don’t always wanna stay put.”
“I see…” Sakura murmured. She was sorely tempted to try and change her appearance back to normal, but eventually decided against it. Closing the front of her cloak just in case she had any more ’slips,’ the green-haired girl took a deep breath. “I’m dressed like this because we were conducting an experiment on Temari to see if we could get you out, but now I’m starting to think that this was a bad idea.”
Sakura was glad she was still wearing the fox mask, as she didn’t want her counterpart to see the panic that gripped her as analyzed her situation. *Dammit, what am I supposed to do now? What if I’m trapped in here?* Would that leave her body an empty shell, or would it just create another ‘Sakura’ to replace her? For that matter, shouldn’t the two of them be ‘merging,’ now that they were together? *Why can’t this stupid technique ever make sense?*
Perhaps sensing her distress, the other Sakura frowned worriedly. “Tryin’ ta get me out, eh?” Reaching into the equipment pouch at her hip, the fake Sand nin produced a red rubber ball about the size of a melon. “Let’s go somewhere else,” she suggested. “This is a bad place ta talk.”
While Sakura was still boggling at how she’d pulled such a large object out of such a small opening, the tall kunoichi tossed the ball gently toward the front of the room. Bouncing a few times with a hollow ‘ping!’ sound, the toy eventually rolled to a stop at Temari’s feet, causing the blonde girl to look down.
Instantly, the world around them changed. They were outside now, standing next to a dusty street flanked on either on all side by tall buildings carved of the same red stone as the room before. Stooping to pick up the ball, a now even younger Temari wore a huge, playful smile as she shoved it toward a apron-clad figure standing a bit farther down the street.
At first Sakura thought she was looking at a woman. Long, sandy blond hair and soft features contributed to the illusion, but the man’s silhouette betrayed his gender as he bounced the ball back to Temari. Temari was still recognizable even as a child, right down to her four stubby ponytails, but she looked almost shockingly innocent as she played with the kind-faced, androgynous young man.
“What did you-?” Sakura sputtered.
“Gave ‘er somethin’ better ta do than wonder why we’re here,” the older kunoichi explained. Not bothering to elaborate, she put her hands in her pockets and watched in silent amusement as Temari chased the ball down the street. “I ain’t leavin’,” she said finally, not looking back.
“What?” Still reeling from the sudden change of scene, Sakura stared at her opposite number in confusion. “But- but you can’t just _stay_ here!” she protested. “We don’t know what could happen!” A surge of revulsion seized Sakura at the thought of leaving a ‘piece’ of herself behind.
“Ya feel any different without me?” the veiled woman countered with a bland expression. “It took ya fuckin’ long enough ta notice I was gone.”
“Well… no, I guess not,” Sakura was forced to admit. Even back when she was fully possessing Temari, the ‘Sakura’ that had remained in her own body hadn’t felt any different from before. “But-”
“Nothin’ we’ve seen says we actually ‘lose’ somethin’ when we use this technique,” ‘Native’ Sakura interrupted, her voice betraying a hint of excitement. “After all, our soul don’t _really_ leave our body like in the Shintenshin; we never did figure that part out.”
Sakura nodded hesitantly. Her sources had been frustratingly vague on the relationship with between the mind and the soul, but most of them seemed to agree that matters of the soul were the realm of ninjutsu rather than genjutsu. As such, Sakura had been forced to improvise. Her Kitsune-Tsuki was based partially on a simple, basic Bunshin; it created an incomplete but stable ‘impression’ of her chakra system as a shell for her attack.
This ‘intruder’ was supposed to act sort of like a barbed fishnet, binding the victim’s chakra to Sakura’s like a puppet on strings. The theoretical end result would be similar to the true Shintenshin: she’d be able to control either the victim’s body or her own, but not both at the same time. “The technique doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, though,” Sakura noted, voicing her thoughts. “Instead of creating a ‘link,’ it creates a ‘copy.’”
“Right,” the elder Sakura affirmed, “a copy that can function completely independent of the original, but can also be reintegrated, almost like Anko’s Oketsubunshin- in fact, when we got that clone’s memories, it felt exactly like when we ‘absorb’ one of our copies.”
“But it shouldn’t be able to- wait, you remember that?” Doing a double-take, Sakura was again plunged into confusion. “But that was after we possessed Temari,” she challenged.
“I remember everythin’ up ’til the point where we tried to ‘un-possess’ Temari,” the tall woman explained.
*Hmm… when I pulled most of the ‘me’ out of Temari, I must’ve ’synchronized’ with what remained,* -but that was impossible. With its ability to copy and manipulate memories, her Kitsune-Tsuki did somewhat resemble Anko’s Oketsubunshin, but the mechanism behind it was far too crude to accomplish any of these incredible feats.
That’s why the technique was so dangerous; she’d basically tried to perform brain surgery on herself with a wood axe. Every time the Kitsune-Tsuki activated to do _anything_, it should literally be tearing her mind apart. “Even if it doesn’t _seem_ to hurt us, we can’t be sure that it’s safe,” Sakura reasoned. “What if Temari’s mind starts to leak into yours like it did with Anko?”
The faux-Sand nin shrugged. “Then I become Temari. What’s it matter ta you? It ain’t like yer missin’ anythin’.”
“What if it goes both ways?” Sakura hissed. “You know how much ‘Anko’ I’ve got in my head! Do you really want Temari to know that much about us?” Her double’s unconcerned attitude was rapidly fraying her already threadbare patience, but Sakura forced herself to stay calm. Bad things always happened when she got angry.
The copy seemed to consider this for a moment, but then her gaze hardened. “Oh… I guess that’s yer ‘mission,’ ain’t it?” she observed.
“‘Mission?’” Sakura asked, a little discomfited with the look her counterpart was giving her.
“Yeah; I’ve been thinkin’ about it fer a while.” Turning again to the game of catch still in progress, the elder Sakura chuckled when Temari somehow managed to throw the ball straight up, causing it to fall straight back down and hit her in the face. “When we possessed Temari… we wanted ta save ‘er, right?” the tall kunoichi asked, a calm warmth replacing her earlier intensity.
“I guess so,” Sakura agreed. A tiny smile curled her lips behind her mask; grown-up Temari was a total bitch, but she was just so _cute_ as a kid!
“I think how we feel when we do it is important; it kinda ‘defines’ the copy.” Holding up her hand, the adult Sakura produced three long needles, fanning them between her fingers with a flick of the wrist. Their tips glistened wetly in the sun. “I know she’s the enemy,” she declared gravely. “I know better’n anyone that Temari came prepared ta to do anythin’ she needed ta do ta complete ‘er mission.”
Then, with a helpless sigh, she made the needles disappear. “Whenever I see ‘er, though, I can’t help but feel like I need ta protect ‘er. I can’t explain why, but I can’t fight it.” Lowering her arm, she turned to give Sakura a rueful smile. “I think that’s _my_ ‘mission.’”
Without warning, the taller kunoichi stepped into Sakura’s space. Her hands snaked out like striking vipers, pinning the green haired girl’s arms. “I’m also pretty sure that it’s _your_ ‘mission’ ta bring me back, so ya pro’lly ain’t gonna take ‘no’ fer an answer.”
“Wha-” Struggling, Sakura gasped in shock as streams of snakes emerged from her captor’s sleeves, twining around her until her cloak was cinched as tight as a straight jacket.
“I’m really sorry ’bout this, but I think it’s time fer you ta go,” the other kunoichi apologized sheepishly. Releasing Sakura’s arms, she gave the masked girl a firm push, tipping Sakura backward. “Just try ta remember ta wake up before ya hit the ground.”
Bracing for impact, Sakura felt the bottom drop out of her stomach when it didn’t come. Wind rushed past her ears as she fell, and within moments the figure of her betrayer had receded to a tiny black speck framed by a circle of blue sky that stood stark against the enveloping darkness. Writhing vainly in midair, Sakura looked over her shoulder to see what lay below…
§
“Ah!” Landing hard on her behind, Sakura let out an aggrieved squawk as the back of her head made contacted with the wall behind her. “OW! God-dammit! Ow! Fuck!”
“Are you alright?”
Looking up, Sakura found Yoshinari standing over her. The medical nin was deft and efficient as he checked Sakura for injuries before turning to Temari. Above Sakura, the Sand nin slumped limply in the restraining wards, apparently still unconscious.
“I… yeah,” Sakura assured him, holding her throbbing head as memories slid together in her mind like playing cards. Temari had passed out right after the technique took, and Yoshinari had confirmed that there had been chakra transference. After that, they’d decided to wait a few minutes see if there was any ’secondary flow.’
“Did you succeed?” the ANBU asked, holding a finger against the back of Temari’s neck (presumably to keep the blonde girl under).
Sakura pondered this question for several seconds before shaking her head with a worried sigh. “Not exactly. I made contact, but there may be a problem…”
§
Looking up from the mission scroll she’d just received, Yuuhi Kurenai wore a frown of confusion. “I think there’s been a of mistake,” she suggested, addressing the man behind the desk. “I specifically requested _local_ missions only.”
“And the mission requests _you_ specifically,” the dour staffer parroted, mirroring her frown without the confusion. “Moreover, you’re one of the only jounin we have available at the moment, and I think you’ll agree that the sensitive political nature of this mission warrants nothing less.”
“If security is such an issue, why have I not been assigned a support team?” the red-eyed woman countered testily.
The annoying little man just shrugged, as if it weren’t his concern. “Perhaps no-one else could be spared. If you have any complaints, I’d suggest you lodge them with the council of elders- though I doubt you’ll be heard in time, as your mission begins tomorrow.”
Kurenai suppressed a growl of discontent, turning on her heel and storming off. She knew the petty bureaucrat was just doing his job, but he didn’t have to be so superior about it. *He must get a thrill out of ordering jounin around,* the brunette mused. Her brow knitted once more as she glanced down at the scroll. *This cannot be a mere coincidence.*
Kurenai’s feet eventually led her to a squat, unimposing building near the center of town. She’d been to the torture and interrogation facility before, but unlike most of her peers, she’d never had the ‘pleasure’ of working there. She’d had other duties while Asuma and the rest had been sneaking around in the service of ANBU. Still, Kurenai recognized the woman standing guard when she walked in.
“Good afternoon, Yuuhi-san,” the petite hunter nin greeted.
“Good afternoon, Asano-san,” Kurenai replied. “Could you tell me where I can find Haruno Sakura?”
“Just a sec.” Shuffling around behind her desk, the woman started flipping through her clipboard critically. Asano paused when she found the page she was looking for. “Alright, it looks like you’re cleared to see her. If I could just have you sign in here-” She unrolled a scroll on the counter and offered Kurenai a pen.
Quirking an eyebrow, the red-eyed woman signed next to the timestamp that Asano indicated. “I need _clearance_ to see her?” she asked incredulously.
The other kunoichi shrugged. “She’s working with some restricted documents. Nothing above your level, normally, but you don’t have ANBU security clearance.”
*And _she_ does?* Shaking her head, Kurenai handed the pen back.
“Thanks; alright, go down the hall and up the stairs in the back.” Standing, Asano gestured as she explained. “On the second floor take a left. She’s the third office on your right.”
With a nod of gratitude, Kurenai began striding toward the back of the building. Reaching the narrow stairwell, she suddenly realized that she’d never been upstairs before. She usually came to see Anko, and Anko was always downstairs in the labs (or, as her irreverent friend tended to call them, ‘the pits’).
Paradoxically, the second floor the ANBU interrogation facility looked just like any other office building in Konoha. The halls were well lit, anguished screams and strange odors were conspicuously absent, and no masked guards confronted her with dire warnings and release forms.
The only odd thing she noticed was that doors that marched down the eggshell white walls were very closely spaced; the rooms behind them had to be little larger than closets. Finding the one she was looking for, Kurenai raised her hand and knocked. “Haruno Sakura?”
A surprised “Ah!” floated through the wall, followed by the sound of papers being rearranged. Moments later, a familiar voice reached her ears. “Come in!”
Opening the door, Kurenai was immediately struck by how guilty the girl looked as she sat at her desk, ink-stained hands folded in front of her and a slightly crooked smile on her lips. The desktop wasn’t clear, but the arrangement of Sakura’s scrolls and notebooks told the older ninja that none of the visible items were important. *No, whatever she was working on, she put it away in one of the drawers.*
The scene was hauntingly familiar, so much so that Kurenai couldn’t help but sigh. “Normally, I’d mind my own business. The gods know I’ve gotten into more than enough trouble sticking my nose into Anko’s mischief in the past, but I _was_ asked to keep an eye on you, and I think I’m beginning to understand why.”
Straightening, the red-eyed woman crossed her arms and spread her feet slightly apart, assuming a stance of beleaguered authority. “I will ask this only once: are you doing anything that is likely to get you imprisoned, court-martialed or killed?”
Shrinking a bit under the jounin’s scrutiny, Sakura glanced away, pushing her fingers together anxiously. “Um… not if I’m careful?” she offered in a small, hopeful voice.
“And are you being careful?” Kurenai pressed.
A funny look crossed the pink-haired girl’s face, and annoyance warmed Sakura’s tone as she spat, “I’m not Anko,” with a testy frown.
Kurenai couldn’t decide whether or not to laugh. The denial was amusing, but Sakura had read the context a little _too_ perfectly. “You could’ve fooled me,” she countered with a sardonic lilt. “You look _exactly_ like she does when she’s trying to hide something from me.” the jounin accused.
The small girl paled. “Um… well, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with this time,” Sakura assured her sheepishly.
That was a bold answer from a genin, and a strange reaction besides. From Sakura’s words, it _almost_ sounded like they were both thinking of the same incident, but Kurenai could scarcely believe that Anko would’ve told her student about that fiasco. Leaning down, Kurenai favored her temporary charge with a hood-eyed stare. “Have you… damaged something? An important scroll, perhaps?”
A hit of color bloomed on Sakura’s cheeks, and Kurenai could see beads of sweat forming at her temples. “Maybe?” Sakura hedged with a thin, guarded smile.
“That’s quite a coincidence,” Kurenai observed coolly. “I can remember a time when Anko was about your age where she had such an ‘accident.’”
“You don’t say?” Sakura’s tension slowly melted into resignation as she realized that she was caught.
“Indeed.” She knew; without a doubt, Sakura knew the incident Kurenai was thinking of. Strangely, Kurenai found that she wasn’t really angry with Anko for relating such an intimate story from their past, but now she was even more curious about what Sakura was to her friend.
Puckering her lips petulantly, the jounin as she scanned the room until her eyes soon fell upon the boxes sitting in front of Sakura’s desk. “Judging from the number of archive scrolls you have here, I’d almost have to guess that the situation is _exactly_ the same,” she prodded.
Sakura had the grace to grimace in embarrassment, though Kurenai could still sense defiance in her. “Not quite; I don’t have any ulterior motive for having these. They also aren’t… those kinds of records, and I’ve been cleared to read them.”
“So I’ve been told,” Kurenai mused, clicking her tongue thoughtfully. The curve of Kurenai’s lips dipped into a frown as she lifted the cover on one of the boxes. “Can you actually unseal them?” she asked, voice rising as she read the warding notes decorating one of the scrolls inside.
“Anko brought me to ANBU headquarters to sign some contracts so I could open them safely, and she showed me the seals to do it,” Sakura assured her. Then the younger girl’s expression grew slightly distressed. “I did sort of wonder of it was really okay for me to have this level of access. The archivist didn’t look upset, but-”
A smile tugged at the corners of Kurenai’s mouth. “Probably not.”
“Dammit!” Scowling, the pink-haired girl pounded her fist on the desk. “Why is she always doing crap like this? I’m in enough trouble as it is!”
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Kurenai needled, allowing herself a nostalgic grin at the look on Sakura’s face. Kurenai was starting to see why Anko was so fond of her new apprentice. Deciding to give the poor girl a break, she averted her gaze. “What happened there?” she asked, peering at Sakura’s shoulder.
“Hmm? This?” Reaching up to finger the cloth bandage wrapped around her left arm, Sakura stiffened. “Eheh, it’s- it’s nothing! Just a training accident!” she croaked, radiating distress even as she put on another fake, sheepish smile.
*They are far too alike,* the red-eyed woman mused, a little disappointed. Sakura’s openness was endearing, but it was rare to find a properly trained kunoichi, nowadays. “Well, try to be a little more careful,” she cautioned lightly. “Anko will be very upset with me if you manage to kill yourself while she is away.”
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything,” Sakura replied, lowering her guard with a sigh.
This gave Kurenai a moment of pause; for as long as they had been friends, Anko has never been one to wear her faults with humility. *Perhaps they are not _quite_ so alike, after all.* Reaching down into her thigh holster, Kurenai extracted the letter that had been bundled with the mission scroll and set it on the desk. “This is for you,” she explained.
Blinking, Sakura reached for the folded piece of paper, then froze and retracted her hand when she saw whom it was addressed to. “Are you sure this is for me?” she asked, giving Kurenai a confused look.
“Positive,” Kurenai assured her. “I’ve been briefed on the gist of the letter and was given explicit instructions regarding whom I should deliver it to.”
Looking again at the letter, the younger kunoichi seemed perplexed. “Really? But I’m not this… ‘Lady Haruno Sakura of Ryuuzen,’” Sakura protested, her skeptical tone transforming the title into some fantastic, mythical beast that only children believed in.
Kurenai couldn’t blame the girl. It had sounded pretty absurd to her as well, but the information provided for missions was seldom completely wrong. “So your grandfather isn’t Haruno Seinan, Lord of the Ryuuzen province?” she queried.
“Well… yeah, he is,” Sakura admitted, though Kurenai could see her disbelief turning to dismissal. “But that doesn’t make me a ‘Lady,’” she scoffed. “The Lord Haruno disowned my Dad before I was born.”
“That doesn’t preclude you from becoming nobility,” Kurenai pointed out. “Depending upon the situation, lands and titles can be restored as easily as they are stripped.” It also seemed far too convenient that _Anko_ of all people had somehow been assigned to tutor a young genin that just happened to be the granddaughter of a prominent Fire Country Lord.
The most logical explanation that struck her was that Hokage-sama had gotten wind that Sakura was a potential heiress before his death, and had decided to isolate her from the rest of her team for her own protection. The last Uchiha and the vessel of the Kyuubi had both been the subject of much unwanted attention lately, and if rumors were to be believed, Sakura herself was quite the handful as well.
Sakura, however, seemed unconvinced. “This isn’t one of those situations. I _can’t_ inherit land _or_ title. I- It’s… complicated.” The pink-haired girl frowned suddenly, as if realizing that she’d almost said too much.
“Hmm… Is your father a bastard?” the brunette guessed. It was an open secret that ninja villages often had ‘ways’ of dealing with abandoned children. Prosperous villages like Konoha sometimes took them in and raised them as ninja, and poor villages… well, either way, these unfortunate ‘mistakes’ were rarely heard from again.
Sakura’s situation seemed to be a little different, but it was meant to be an eye-popping question and Sakura didn’t disappoint. A moment of panic flashed across the younger kunoichi’s face right as Kurenai dropped the word. “Wh- what? A- where the hell did that come from?” Sakura sputtered indignantly, picking her jaw up off the ground.
“It’s not _that_ uncommon, you know,” Kurenai replied in a voice just brusque enough to keep Sakura’s temper simmering. “Musical beds is a favorite game of nobles, and you’d be surprised how often their ill-begotten get finds its way to the gates of-”
“My Dad is _not_ a bastard!” The pink-haired girl denied a tad too vehemently, standing up to glare at the jounin. “It’s just _complicated_- and isn’t that a bit of a personal question? Not to mention rude!” Planting her hands on the desk and leaning forward, Sakura waited for an answer.
“Most children your age wouldn’t have any idea how to react if someone suggested that their father was a bastard,” Kurenai observed, dissecting Sakura’s reaction like it was a whimsically colored frog in a specimen tray. “I don’t mean to offend you, but I prefer to know what exactly I have to work with before starting a mission.”
A queasy expression surfaced on Sakura’s face. “Mission? What mission are you talking about?” she demanded nervously.
“I suggest you read the letter.”
Embarrassment quenched Sakura’s ire as she glanced down at the missive, but this respite lasted only until Sakura had finished skimming its contents. “The _Wind Country?_” she shrieked, tearing her eyes from the page to cast Kurenai a haunted stare.
The instructor tilted her head to the side, taking measure of her expressive charge. Sakura had some of the most peculiar reactions Kurenai had ever seen. “Indeed,” she confirmed, watching Sakura closely. “The envoy we sent to the Village of the Hidden Sand has negotiated an end to hostilities and they now require the presence of a Fire Country official as a witness to the declaration of peace- purely as a formality, of course.”
Kurenai was pleased to see the flinty gleam in Sakura’s eyes as she said this; the girl was sharp, and could become serious when she needed to. She could also seemed to have no trouble detecting sarcasm. “Your grandfather governs the province in which Konoha is located, so his was deemed the most appropriate house to receive this honor, and with you _conveniently_ being a ninja of Konoha-”
“-They can order me to go,” Sakura finished for her. The genin did not appear the least bit pleased with her deduction. “Still, why me? Whoever proposed this mission _must_ know that Grandpa chose his second son as his heir, and even if Dad was still the heir, I’m a ninja. I’d have to dissolve my ties to Konoha to become a Lady, and if I did that they couldn’t order me to go.”
Kurenai nodded in approval. Sakura must have actually paid attention during diplomacy and espionage training in kunoichi school. “This is probably why they sent a ‘request’ for your presence. You can, of course, refuse this missive in your supposed capacity as a Lady of the Fire Country; it is a weighty request, after all. In that case, the issue of your nobility would become a moot point.”
“But why even ask, then, if they know I’m going to refuse?” Sakura wondered with a frown.
Kurenai shrugged absently, though the question bothered her as well. “Perhaps they are counting on your loyalty,” she suggested.
“Maybe,” Sakura mused, fingering the letter with a pensive frown. “But what good is a false noble? Someone in the Sand would eventually find out the truth, and that would look bad for us. Wouldn’t it be better to just ask the Lord Haruno instead?”
“Again, you claim that you cannot possibly be a noble, but you’ve yet to explain why,” Kurenai chastened, though she was definitely impressed. Despite her obvious inability to mask her emotions, Sakura was proving to be remarkably astute. “Still, that is an excellent point. I have been given to understand that there are some stringent time constraints for this mission, but aside from that, can you think of any reason why they wouldn’t want to ask him?”
“Hmm…” Pink brows furrowed in the middle of Sakura’s forehead as she puzzled over this. “Maybe they’re hoping to circumvent a lot of court bureaucracy by making it a personal request,” she posited, waiting for Kurenai’s quizzical look before continuing. “I mean, _I_ can ask Grandpa to send someone in my place, and then nobody else has to know about it until it’s all over.”
“Perhaps,” Kurenai granted. The village elders were going to great pains to hide Konoha’s current weakness from their clients; limiting the number of eyes that passed over their request might help in that aim. It seemed as plausible as any other explanation Kurenai had come up with, and if Sakura could obtain for her a more legitimate representative, that would allay many of her worries. “Would you be willing to ask your grandfather for assistance?”
“I don’t see why not,” Sakura decided, nodding. “He should be the one to decide whether to accept or decline this, anyway.”
“You realize you’ll be coming either way, don’t you?” Kurenai noted dryly.
Sakura blinked in confusion. “What? Why?”
“There may be other reasons why you were selected that have not been explained to us,” the red-eyed kunoichi pointed out. “Even if it turns out that you cannot act in the capacity of the Lord Haruno’s representative, I have been ordered to escort Haruno Sakura to the Village of the Hidden Sand in the Wind Country, and you have been ordered to cooperate with me. Are we understood?”
A grumpy scowl settled on Sakura’s face. “Yeah, I understand- but I still think this is stupid.”
“Duly noted, but a mission is a mission,” Kurenai recited, sensing that the conversation was at an end. “We’ll visit Ryuuzai castle first thing in the morning,” she added, moving to leave. “I’ll be expecting you at the village gates at eight AM tomorrow. Be sure to bring a set of suitable clothes, in case we are refused.”
“Yeah, yeah- eight,” Sakura acknowledged reluctantly. Then, as the brunette was closing the door behind her, Kurenai could have sworn she heard the pink-haired girl mutter, “Ya can pull that mission scroll outta yer ass whenever ya like, Yuuhi…”
*She did _not_ just say that.* It _had_ to have just been her imagination. At times, Sakura reminded Kurenai far too much of Anko, and that was definitely something Anko might’ve said. At other times, however, Sakura displayed a responsible, self-conscious nature that almost reminded her of…
*How long has it been now?* Kurenai wondered, counting the years. She could now definitely see why Anko adored the excitable pink-haired girl. *Perhaps Hokage-sama had another reason for putting them together,* she speculated, remembering the guilty look that Anko had worn when she’d asked Kurenai to watch over her new apprentice.
Shaking her head, the wavy-haired kunoichi continued on her way, her heart a little lighter for just a moment. Her mood darkened quickly, however, as she contemplated the next stop on her list. She never relished her visits to the Hyuuga compound, but this promised to be an even more uncomfortable confrontation than normal.
The thought of not consulting them crossed Kurenai’s mind for the briefest instant, but she quashed it mercilessly. *I am an instructor and a jounin of the Hidden Leaf,* she reminded herself. Her students were her responsibility, but sometimes there were greater obligations to consider. *I am sorry, Hinata-chan, but it looks like your useless teacher is about to fail you again….*
§
Dear Kakashi-sensei,
The arrival of Autumn always makes me a little sad. I know they say it’s a season of ephemeral, poetic beauty, but I’m already starting to miss the clear skies and sunshine of Summer. I hope that you and Sasuke-kun are being careful, training in this dreary weather.
I’m writing because I have accepted a request from the village council to accompany Kurenai-sensei on a mission, and I probably won’t be able to see you before we depart. I can’t be very specific, as the mission objectives are classified (and I don’t really understand them myself), but please don’t be upset if headquarters informs you that I’m no longer a ninja. They’ve assured me that it’s only temporary, and I will be completely reinstated when I return. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.
I’m not sure how long we will be gone, but they estimate that it shouldn’t be more than three weeks, including travel. I’m a little nervous, since this will be my first mission without all of you, but it doesn’t sound like it will be dangerous. Please wish me luck, and tell Sasuke-kun and Naruto not to worry.
§
Putting down her brush, Sakura stared at the page for a moment, trying to think of anything else she wanted to say. *’I'll miss you?’ Hmm…* No, she wouldn’t be gone _that_ long. Besides, she’d be leaving this message at Kakashi’s house, and she couldn’t honestly say that she was going to miss _him_ all that much.
Maybe she’d been spoiled by all the attention she got from the folks in ANBU, but lately Sakura had been feeling downright ignored by her commander. He’d barely even commented on the genjutsu she’d learned! *’That’s an impressive trick, Sakura,’ he says!* She wanted to hope that he wasn’t doing it on purpose but… no, she wouldn’t miss Kakashi nearly as much as she’d miss Sasuke and Naruto.
Reading the letter again, Sakura considered taking out the first paragraph. Talking about the weather was a traditional way to open personal letters, but now she felt like striking a more distant tone. *And what do boys know about poetry, anyway? Hmm… But he might read it to them. Maybe I’ll put in the ‘I’ll miss you’ after all, to make Sasuke-kun think of me.*
Unfortunately, with Sasuke, such a ploy could easily backfire. Did she really want to sound so weak and needy? She’d already mentioned that she was nervous- though it wasn’t for the reasons that she told them. She was going to a village they’d just been at war with, and the reason she was going was _very_ suspect. She was willing to bet that even Kurenai-sensei was feeling a little edgy.
*I’ll just leave it how it is,* the pink-haired girl decided, pushing the page aside. She still had other letters to write.
She had to write one to Anko, since she didn’t know when her mentor would be would be returning- though it probably wouldn’t be for at least a week, considering the deadline Anko had set for her assignment. *And how the hell am I going to finish that now? Dammit!* Yoshinari would also get a letter, as she had to put their research on hold for the moment and she didn’t want him to think she was ducking out on her responsibility. *I hope he’s right about it not getting worse,* Sakura worried, thinking about the recipient of her final letter.
She wasn’t sure yet what she wanted to say to Temari; it seemed kind of pointless to say anything, if she couldn’t talk to the Sand nin in person. *Maybe Hyuuga-san will be in tomorrow morning. I’ll leave a note for him to come find me before I leave.*
She wished she’d asked how she could contact him. It seemed like the moment she had something to say, everyone vanished. Kakashi and Sasuke were off training outside of the village, Naruto and Yoshinari were nowhere to be found, Anko was on a mission and she didn’t have clearance to see Temari alone.
Sakura tried to think of anyone else she needed to talk to before she left. “Ah, I suppose I could say goodbye to Ino.” She had to go to her dad’s shop anyway, to pick up that fancy jade comb that her mom _insisted_ she wear with her good kimono. *Bleah. It’s not like my hair’s long anymore- if I wear it up, I’ll look like _Anko_.* Sakura stuck out her tongue in disgust.
Still, she’d probably need to get a hair cut soon if she wanted to keep it short. Ino was going to grow hers long again, but Sakura wasn’t so sure. *I’ll ask Ino what she thinks I should do with it,* Sakura decided with a smile. *Maybe today I’ll be able to convince her to teach me the Kusushibari, too!*
Sakura was _sure_ she’d almost managed to break Ino’s resolve, last time. Reversing her ‘aura of intimidation’ so that it made her seem ‘vulnerable and appealing’ rather than ‘frightening and dangerous’ had been a great idea. She just needed to refine it a bit more; Ino was a pretty tough customer. *Now, if only I could get her to give up on Sasuke-kun…*
§
“Iiiino! Sakura-chan is here!”
Cringing, Yamanaka Ino carefully set down her garden trowel. “I’ll be there in a minute!” she called, her cheery voice not betraying a hint of the reluctance she felt as she slowly began trudging towards the rear door of the shop. *Here we go again….*
Hanging her apron by the door, Ino took a short detour to the bathroom to wash her hands. After she was done, the blonde girl stood at the sink for a moment, staring into the mirror and trying to smooth away the creases around the corners of her eyes.
The last week or so had been… difficult. Sakura had visited almost every day, begging Ino to teach her. The pink-haired girl had also been acting lot more ‘friendly’ than usual; Sakura was always joking around, or trying to lean on Ino or hold her hand or… hug her.
It seemed innocent enough on the outside, stuff that normal teenaged girls did all the time- except that it _wasn’t_ innocent and it _wasn’t_ normal, because Sakura _liked_ her, not just as a friend, but really, _really_ liked her! *Dammit, what the hell am I supposed to do?*
Ino was tired of waiting for Sakura to confess to her, but every time she psyched herself up to tell Sakura that they could never be more than friends, she just couldn’t do it! No matter how up-beat or silly or confident Sakura seemed on the outside, whenever Ino looked into Sakura’s eyes she could _feel_ her friend’s desperate need for approval, and she just couldn’t bear to push Sakura away.
Ino knew she couldn’t let this go on forever. Sakura was going to get hurt no matter what she did, but at least if she ended it soon, it might not be so bad- and the idea of another girl having ‘thoughts’ about her was driving Ino _crazy_. Sakura had been behaving herself, for the most part, but every time they touched Ino couldn’t help but wonder if Sakura got some sort of naughty thrill out if it.
Deciding that she’d stalled for long enough, Ino pushed off of the counter and mussed up her hair a bit before walking back out into the hall; maybe if she looked busy, Sakura would take the hint and leave. *Or maybe she’ll offer to stay and help.* Suppressing a groan, Ino stepped into the shop.
A look from her father directed Ino’s attention to the small ninja girl standing in front of the glass-walled humidifier closet where they kept their more delicate samples. Sakura was wearing that gray hoodie she’d taken a liking too recently, as well as a pair of loose blue shorts.
“Hey, Sakura,” Ino greeted cheerily. “Looking for some flowers?”
“Not really,” Sakura replied, glancing to the side to flash Ino a mischievous smile. “C’mere a second.” She beckoned Ino over to the display case.
Wary but curious, the blonde girl walked over to stand beside her friend. “Hmm?”
Making room so Ino could see through the glass, Sakura posed in mirror at the back of the case. “What do you think? Should I grow it out again, or keep it short?” Turning to the side, Sakura tilted her chin down to finger the thick fall of pink hair that brushed her shoulders.
“That depends on if you’re gonna keep dressing like _that,_” Ino replied wryly, lowering her gaze to take in Sakura’s figure- in a purely innocent way, of course. “You know baggy stuff does nothing for you,” the blonde pointed out critically, picking at the sleeve of Sakura’s hoodie. “You’ve got no boobs and your butt is lost in those shorts. If you cut your any hair shorter, people would mistake you for a boy.”
“Hey! I do so have boobs!” Sakura whined, sounding like she she’d heard that accusation once too often, though Ino couldn’t recall teasing her about it recently. Pouting, Sakura stuck out her chest and reached for the hem of her sweatshirt. “I think they’ve grown a bit, too-”
“Ino?” Yamanaka Inoichi interrupted, clearing his throat. Though he was nearly pretty enough to be Ino’s mother, with his long, wavy blond hair and flower-patterned shop apron, the semi-retired ninja behind the counter wore a look that almost screamed, ‘aAaaAAH!’ -an expression of terror common to fathers everywhere. “I can close up here, if you two want to go out,” he suggested somewhat desperately.
“WE ARE NOT-” Catching herself before she could say, ‘we are not going out!’ Ino resisted the urge to scream; it took a couple tries, as there were several people she wanted to scream at. “-ah, um… we aren’t… closing the shop so early, are we?” she asked in a much calmer tone, congratulating herself on the recovery.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s been a slow day, anyway,” her father assured her, leaning over the counter to give them a nostalgic smile. “I’m just glad you two are getting along again. You’re both still kids; this crush-”
“It’s not a crush, dad!”
“-This _crush_ you have on the Uchiha boy isn’t worth breaking your friendship over,” Inoichi pressed on calmly over his daughter’s protestations. With half a mind, Ino noted that Sakura was suspiciously quiet, but the older ninja continued talking. “Young love is something to enjoy when you’re young, but trust me: it doesn’t last. Friendships, on the other hand… real friendships are-”
“Okay, dad, I understand, but we’re getting along _fine_ now, so you don’t need to worry! Right, Sakura?” Ino shot Sakura an expectant look as she started hustling the pink-haired girl toward the door. If she let her dad get on the topic of friends, they could be listening to ‘Ino-Shika-Cho’ anecdotes for _hours_.
“We’re getting along fine, Yamanaka-san!” Sakura agreed a little too cheerily. “But I think you should listen to your dad and stop being so pig-headed about Sasuke-kun, Ino-buta. I’m sure you can find someone else,” she added with a playful grin.
*aAaaAAH!* An expression quite similar to the one her father had worn a moment ago flashed across Ino’s face. *Oh My God, not in front of my _Dad_!* Fairly shoving Sakura through the open door, Ino gave her father a painfully strained smile. “We’re going now!”
Chuckling, the elder Yamanaka nodded and waved. “Have fun, kitten. I may go out myself, so I’ll leave dinner on the stove.”
*Oooooh… So _that’s_ why he was so eager to close up shop.* Her dad was probably going out with his old teammates again; they’d been getting together a lot lately, ever since the battle. *Hmph- he’d better not get drunk again,* Ino grumped. The last thing she needed was for Sakura to see her dad in a dress, leading on some poor guy that the ‘chou-baka-inu’ trio had decided to harass.
“Something wrong?” Sakura asked, snapping Ino back to the present. The pink-haired girl was giving her a quizzical look.
“Ah- it’s nothing,” Ino lied, expertly hiding her embarrassment. “I just wish my dad could be a little less weird.”
“Weird, huh?” Sakura peered at her skeptically. “Well, I guess you had to get it from _somewhere_,” she said with a shrug.
Scowling, Ino glared at her oldest ‘friend.’ “So what’s _your_ excuse, forehead girl? Your parents are normal.”
“Hmm…” Absurdly, Sakura actually seemed to consider the question. “I must’ve caught it from you!”
“Hey, you were weird when I found you!”
“Found me?” Sakura asked, trying out the words. “You make it sound like I’m a lost puppy or something.”
Far from being offended, Sakura grabbed Ino’s hand as a silly smile wriggled its way onto her lips. “Maybe that isn’t such a bad analogy. You know what they say about picking up strays, though: ‘Don’t feed it if you don’t plan to keep it,’” she recited in a lecturing tone. Then her eyes widened and she broke into a fit of giggles. “What’s that look for? Don’t you want me anymore?”
*She doing this on purpose!* Ino fumed, turning away. “They also say, ‘never trust a stray, because sooner or later you’ll get bitten,’” she sniffed, her cheeks burning. Ino immediately regretted her words when Sakura’s expression grew hurt. For a moment, Ino saw before her the timid, lonely little girl that she’d met so many years ago, and her stomach twisted with guilt.
“Ino, I-” Sakura began, finding her voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“Don’t apologize,” the blonde huffed, angry at herself for being an insensitive jerk. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” Sighing heavily, Ino forced herself to look Sakura in the eye, letting a bit of her frustration show. “I just worry about you sometimes, and I get upset. I mean- we’re friends, right?” she prodded hopefully.
“Yeah, we’re friends… as long as I can keep from screwing it up again,” Sakura agreed with a self-depreciating smirk. Her face radiated relief, but those sad green eyes didn’t change. “I just- I wish I weren’t such an idiot, so I could stop making people worry about me.” Sakura looked away this time, staring down at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she murmured helplessly.
*Gods, why does she have to make this so difficult?* Ino despaired. *No wonder Shika complains about girls so much; this sucks… Gah- I can’t believe I’m actually starting to agree with that ass!*
Shaking herself out of her momentary funk, the fair kunoichi stepped up behind Sakura and gave her friend a quick hug, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of her mind that was screaming at her to stop encouraging the crazy lesbian. “Don’t worry about it. We don’t hold it against you- even if you _are_ an idiot,” Ino scolded gently.
“Thank you,” Sakura replied, gripping Ino’s forearm.
It really was nice to be able to talk with Sakura like this again, Ino decided, even it they still had a ways to go. Stepping away, Ino walked around in front of the smaller kunoichi. “So, where do you wanna go today?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Seeming a little surprised by the question, Sakura fidgeted in embarrassment. “Um… actually, I’m kinda busy this afternoon,” she admitted. “I just came by to tell you that I’m going away on a mission tomorrow, and I might not be back for a couple weeks. I’ve gotta go to my Dad’s shop, though. You wanna come?” she gestured toward the center of town.
Shrugging, Ino nodded. “Sure.” Strangely, as she fell into step beside the pink-haired girl, she found herself disappointed that Sakura couldn’t stay longer. *Maybe I just like to torture myself,* she thought ruefully. “Where are you guys going?” she asked.
For several moments Sakura was silent, and Ino wondered if she’d said something to upset her mercurial friend. Then, finally, Sakura whispered, “The Wind Country,” her voice quavering with trepidation.
Ino stopped in her tracks, reeling like she’d been hit in the face with a brick. “The Wind Country- but that’s Hidden Sand territory!” she cried, rounding on her companion.
“Shhhh! Not so loud!” Cringing, the green-eyed kunoichi glanced around furtively, but by some stroke of luck the street was empty. Straightening, she hissed, “I’m not supposed to tell anyone! And it’s not as dangerous as it sounds: we already have people in the Hidden Sand. They’re getting ready to sign a truce.”
“Oh…” Feeling a tad stupid, Ino leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Still, why do they need to send a genin team for that?” Truce or not, Ino wasn’t ready to trust the Sand so soon. “Does it have something to do with Sasuke-kun? You said that someone was after him,” she added suspiciously.
Sakura shook her head. “My team isn’t going this time, just me… well, me and Kurenai-sensei,” she explained.
Blinking, Ino frowned uneasily. “That’s a little weird, isn’t it? Why just you?”
“That’s the _really_ confusing part…”
§
- S U I R E N -
To be continued…
