Chapter 24 – Assignments

Author’s note: So tired…but here it is! I will format it and post the chapter notes tomorrow (as well as post it to ff.net). But here’s a little early reading, if you’re so inclined!

“There is no way you can back out of this one,” Tsunade said flatly. “We all have to go.”

Sakura stood stock still in the middle of the Hokage’s office. She felt like she’d been ambushed. The only day she’d have off in weeks, and she had to spend it in front of the high council. Because of Sasuke.

“He is the head of his clan. He has the right to challenge anything they throw at him. Not that it will do him any good,” Tsunade muttered, attention already shifting to the document in front of her. She scratched out her signature, then slapped the paper atop a messy pile at the corner of her desk. Behind her, cold winter sun slanted through the window, fanning gold rectangles across the floor.

So far, Sakura had managed to dodge the official summons from the council, citing prior obligations, missions or hospital duty. But this time she was out of excuses. And Tsunade knew it.

Sakura couldn’t keep the frustration of her voice. “But why do I—”

“Because you’re on his team. He has requested missions outside the village, which the council has, of course, denied.” Another paper landed on the pile. “But he has laid out proof of his ability and wants to challenge their decree. You are on his team, and you are there to testify on his behalf.”

Hot anger crackled to life within her. That presumptuous…that pompous…. Only Saskue would be arrogant enough to think he could contribute so little to the team, then expect their support at the snap of his fingers. She should have known he was up to something when he started pulling his weight.

“Nothing will come of it,” Tsunade said without looking up. “Whether you agree with him or not, it doesn’t matter. But it will be easier for you to show up, answer their questions and be dismissed. Otherwise he could drag this out,” she grumbled and slapped down another paper. “He could have us all waiting around while he challenges every word they say.”

Resigned to her fate, Sakura nodded once. Though it was a suggestion, it was as good as an order.

“Hai, Tsunade-sama,” she said sullenly.

So, the next day, at the appointed time, she showed up for the council meeting.

It was the same dark room she had been in the year before for Sasuke’s meeting, when Tsunade had her carrying a takeout menu instead of official documents.

The horseshoe-shaped table still ringed one side of the room, narrow benches still pushed against the opposite wall. And the same men still sat around the table, blandly shuffling papers, speaking in hushed tones, and looking as if they’d been frozen in time.

As Sakura moved to take her seat on one of the benches, she was surprised to discover how much she had changed.

The last time she was here, she was quite intimidated by the men, the room, the whole process. But the past year of missions, working with politicians very much like them, took away the mystique.

She wondered how Sasuke would bear all this out. How had he changed since the last time she saw him here, when his fiery temper met with resistance at every turn? She wondered if this new strategy involved a lighter hand with these men.

She didn’t have long to consider it, as Sasuke himself came in a moment later. Shoulders tight, back as rigid as a staff, he strode proudly in, his chin just slightly tipped up.

He certainly looked different. At some point, he had taken to wearing a traditional Uchiha belted shirt over standard issue black fatigues. From where she sat, Sakura could just see the edge of the finely embroidered fan between Sasuke’s shoulders. It’s proud red design, outlined in black, made quite a statement against the white fabric. In fact, thinking of his position now, Sakura was pretty sure the whole outfit was meant as statement. This was his snub to the council, a constant reminder of his clan and the council’s obligation to him as it’s head and only remaining heir.

Sasuke dragged his eyes down the table, then swung his gaze around to the low bench. But when Sakura thought he would make eye contact, acknowledge that he had requested her attendance, as his teammate, to support him…there was none. He registered her presence with just a cursory glance. Then, in a soft swish of fabric, he took a seat down the bench from her and resumed staring straight ahead.

Her astonishment quickly turned to anger. She looked ahead as well, unseeing. Her thoughts spiraled until her hands were clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. He brought her there. Now he acts like she has her own issue with these men!

Frustration driving her to movement, Sakura snuck another look to the side. Sasuke sat rigidly, cold as stone, chin still tipped up in defiance. Or was it arrogance, she thought, narrowing her eyes. As if this whole meeting was an inconvenience to him, not the other way around. That he was the reason everyone was required to be here. Sitting in attendance on him.

‘Nope,’ she thought unkindly. ‘He’s still the same too.’

That realization brought with it a little equanimity. Sakura turned back, exhaled deeply and fixed her gaze on the council. She unclenched her fingers and flattened her hands in her lap. Nothing left to do but just sit back and watch the show. Tsunade had been right, best to just go along and get this over with.

The last council members filed in. Sakura noticed two vacant seats at the end, as well as the Fire Daimyo’s seat in the center. Apparently neither the elders nor the Daimyo felt this meeting was important enough to attend. That spoke volumes to Sakura about how it would probably turn out.

She was just turning to see how Sasuke was handling it, when an oddly bandaged man ambled through the door. He slowly moved down the table, taking one of the empty seats at the end.

White wraps covered half his face, and probably his arm as well, Sakura thought, observing clinically how his limb folded under the cloak. Sakura knew him as Danzou, a military man with some connection to ANBU, but she was didn’t know how he fit into the council.

Another white-cloaked council member strode in and took the Daimyo’s seat, apparently to moderate the meeting. Tsunade and Kakashi were the last to arrive, and as soon as the door closed, the man in the center called Sasuke down to the floor.

They peppered him with questions about every aspect of his life, his training and his future prospects. Sasuke responded in his detached way, answering some and dismissing others as beneath him.

The white of Sasuke’s shirt fairly glowed in the dim light. His shoulders were thrown back in confidence.

The questioning went nowhere, but Sakura was surprised by Sasuke’s rather calm demeanor. These were the very same questions which, a year ago, had sent him into a fury. She amended her thinking as she watched him deflect more and more personal questions with calculated control: Perhaps even he was capable of change.

But just as she was silently approving, the tone of the questions took another turn. Towards revenge.

“We have no assurance that you would not seek your brother out,” a council member prodded meanly. “Abandon Konoha, your teammates, your mission, for the sole reason of exacting a toll on him.”

Sasuke made a fist at his side, but said nothing.

“Your family’s situation is unfortunate,” another sneered, “but you would have to expressly follow orders, no matter what.” Similar comments rippled down the table, each growing more and more brazen.

Sakura’s snapped her eyes back up, looking at each man. These digs were meant to provoke him, rile him up and prove to the council that he was still as fiery and willful as ever. Then he’d deliver their reason for denying him. Sakura wondered if he’d take the bait.

Silence was thick over the room. They were all waiting in attendance on him now, waiting to see what he would do.

“I would follow orders,” Sasuke said in a controlled monotone. “As I have already.”

He relaxed the hand at his side. Sakura let go of a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

Soft, mean, half-comments fluttered up among the shifting men and their rustling papers. Apparently they disagreed, but none were brave enough to contradict. Sakura was pleased for him. He had successfully sidestepped their taunts. This display of control might work, it might sway them—

“Itachi Uchiha—” a gravely voice cut across the others. Conversation halted. Sasuke’s hand spasmed back into a fist at the wretched name.

All attention shifted to the bandaged man at opposite end of the table from Tsunade. He cleared his throat, and looked down at Sasuke with cold, half-lidded eyes.

“Itachi Uchiha is not a threat to Konoha and is not to be pursued.” His words were sharp-edged and brutal, and his gaze never wavered from Sasuke. “Any move against him that is not expressly sanctioned by this council would be viewed as a personal vendetta and punishable as treason.”

Sakura felt like a rug had been pulled out from under her. Itachi wasn’t a threat? What was he talking about?She glanced at Sasuke. In the center of the room, his stance had shifted. His feet were slightly apart, steadying him as if he’d taken a blow. Apparently he thought the same.

“Not a threat?” Sasuke said, astounded. But his anger rose with each word. “What do you mean ‘not a threat’?”

“He is not a threat to Konoha,” another man chimed in condescendingly. “We feel he is only a threat to you. And it is our job to protect you from—”

“He is the biggest threat to Konoha,” Sasuke roared.

Self-control shattered, he launched into a tirade against Itachi for his crimes and against the council for holding him back. Several members argued stridently, matching his voice, but Sasuke didn’t back down. Fist raised, he was just blasting the council about caring more for his clan’s techniques than the clan itself, when the man in the center of the table stood up.

“That’s enough,” he yelled down at Sasuke. “Konoha will deal with Itachi when the time is right. If you are to participate in any missions, then you will have to abide by our decisions. Let’s hear from your sensei. Sit down please. Kakashi….”

Sasuke stalked back to the bench, face pale with rage, hands shaking. Sakura was familiar with his varying bad moods, but this time he was truly furious.

Kakashi took Sasuke’s place, and the room returned to its impassive order. The council asked several perfunctory questions about Sasauke. Kakashi answered them all politely, never giving more than was asked, then was dismissed.

Everything he said was in Sasuke’s favor, speaking volumes to Sakura as to how much her sensei still believed in her bitter teammate.

“Sakura Haruno, please step forward.”

She blinked, refocusing on the table.

The men rifled through paperwork as she moved to the center of the room. Heads together, one man whispered to another, “The other one…is away on a mission.” There was some mumbled discussion, but the last of it was clear: “Yes, he’s the ANBU agent.”

Drawing one foot even with the other, standing in the exact spot as Sasuke, Sakura had a moment of clarity: It was true, they weren’t a team. Sasuke was the prodigy, she was the target, and Sai, “the ANBU agent,” was the minder. He was only on the team to keep tabs on Sasuke. It was all a sham.

The council laid everything out in a monotone, asking her the same short, pointed questions they’d asked Kakashi.

How many team missions had they completed? Was Sasuke willing to complete them? Did the client express satisfaction with his behavior? Did he represent Konoha to the best of his ability in every situation?

Sakura knew she wouldn’t lie for him. She wouldn’t gush about his powers, say he was the perfect teammate and that they had perfect harmony. But standing there, listening to these questions obviously designed to entrap, she decided she wouldn’t tell the council what they wanted to hear.

“Sasuke Uchiha is as capable a nin as Konoha could ever hope to put forth into the world,” she said finally, shutting down their last attempts for a more negative view.

The men shifted in their seats, a few rephrased their questions, pushing for a different response. She repeated her answer with forced politeness. Heads tipped together, and mumbles of disappointment echoed up and down the table.

Apparently forgotten for the moment, Sakura stood silently in the middle of the darkened room, frustration growing.

No one had addressed the fact that both she and Sai were allowed to go out on extended missions.

And Sai was the “ANBU agent.” This official confirmation sparked even more anger. Her mind raced back through their interactions with him. How far did it go? Had he really been a genin with them, or was that also part of some master plan? Was it all a lie? Sakura shook her head lightly.

Sasuke said all along that they were no team. He was right. Team 7 must have been created to keep him tightly under control. She had a feeling the council only saw him as an extension of his clan. Not as a person. He was a merely a vessel for the Uchiha’s prized sharingan. A weapon to be jealously guarded. Sasuke must have always known this.

Sakura huffed a breath. It was ridiculously unfair. Itachi stole his past, but the council was stealing his future. They were making the last loyal Uchiha pay for his brother’s sins.

Sasuke was an exceptionally skilled shinobi, and he deserved to have his fair chance. It struck her suddenly that this was one more thing Itachi was taking away from him.

The memory of of that man still chilled her to the core. She had never been in greater fear. At academy they were taught about death in battle: It was swift and brutal. But she learned that day there were more painful, frightening things than death. Like using your life to manipulate others before you were snuffed out.

Her lips flattened into a thin, white line. Anger like she’d never felt before surged up within her. She hated Itachi. Hated him.

He was the worst thing that ever happened to Sasuke. He was the one who directed Katsuro’s life. He was the one who ordered her abduction just to pry information out about Sasuke and manipulate him from a distance. He was the one in the Akatsuki, the shadowy group who was plotting against everything they were taught to believe in.

Sakura narrowed her eyes. And these men were wrong.

With grim determination she looked down the table. Heads were still bent together, some frowning in discussion. A few were even laughing. They’d already moved on to other topics. Sakura straightened her shoulders.

She’d had a taste of Sasuke’s fury. And she was in a unique position to understand his point of view. She wouldn’t let it go to waste.

At the end of the table sat Tsunade, arms folded, an inscrutable gaze fixed on her apprentice. Sakura had only just glanced at her when the chattering stopped and a few began to collect their papers. The center man cleared his throat, finally returning to their purpose.

“You may sit down Haruno,” he said dismissively. Sakura could feel the shift, they were anticipating wrapping it up soon.

But she didn’t move. Instead she tipped her chin up, set her shoulders, and subtly tucked her fingers up into her palms. Sakura took a small steadying breath and swallowed her momentary dread. It was in direct contradiction with the council, but she knew this might be her only chance to speak.

“I have something else to say,” she declared, “about Itachi.”

The room went quiet. Papers froze mid-shuffle.

“Sasuke is right,” she said, voice echoing into the silence. “Itachi is a threat to Konoha. And I believe he is the biggest threat—”

“Oh yes. I remember,” one man interjected lazily as he resumed straightening his papers. “You had an encounter with him a few years back.”

Sakura’s cheeks blazed. That something so traumatic could be dismissed out-of-hand! She struggled to keep her anger in check. She really was in Sasuke’s position now.

“Itachi is actively working against the Leaf. And he is in the….” Her voice thinned with doubt. This was highly classified information she was about to hurl at them. She glanced reflexively at Tsunade. The blonde locked eyes with her and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. The subtle move was a message: They were not to know about Itachi’s involvement in Akatsuki.

“H-He is involved in every underhanded thing to find out information about Sasuke,” she rejoined hastily.

“And this is ‘plotting against the Leaf?'” another man scoffed.

“Yes,” she scrambled. “If Itachi is so desperate for information, then let Sasuke go on missions, improve his skill, demonstrate that Konoha still uses the Uchiha clan. Show the other nations that we are not so easily defeated by a single clan member.”

The disgruntled councilmen frowned but they didn’t stop her. Something she said must have caught their interest. Sakura continued, voice rising. “He hasn’t gone after Itachi. He’s done what you’ve asked. That should stand for something, shouldn’t it?!”

She panted a breath. Her words were on the verge of treachery. These men valued respect above all else, and here she was yelling at them.

In that reeling moment, some men glared at her while others gaped in mortified astonishment. But the man in the center had the presence of mind to quash the upstart teammate of the problematic Uchiha.

“Young lady, this council will not tolerate your outburst. You have no grounds to speak at this meeting, only answer what you are asked. If you have something more to say, Konoha policy requires you to submit a form—”

Sakura exploded in a manner befitting only Sasuke himself.

“Is it Konoha policy to leave a nukenin free to roam, while the one who can stop him is held prisoner behind the gates?!”

The council dissolved into a fracas, yelling at her and at each other.

“Is she your apprentice?” someone called down to Tsunade.

“Take your seat Haruno,” the man in the center fired back at her. “You have said quite enough!”

Heart racing, words dried up, she returned to her seat. She’d really done it now. It was only when her warm hands wrapped around the edge of the cold bench did she remember to breathe.

She dared a glance at Tsunade, inwardly cringing at how disappointed she must be. But the corners of that woman’s full red lips were curving up, ever so slightly. Maybe she wasn’t as blisteringly mad as Sakura expected.

The men were still arguing, although some had gathered their things and were striding to the door, making a great show of ignoring the occupants of the bench. Kakashi dropped down into the empty spot between the teammates with a deep sigh.

“Well…I think we can all expect D-ranks for a while,” he quipped just loud enough for them to hear.

Sakura was still so discomposed that she nearly missed the cry of “dismissed, dismissed,” by the center councilmen, trying to maintain the last shred of control.

Kakashi strode off immediately. Sakura, spying a door in the opposite corner, headed right for it to avoid running into any disgruntled men. She’d get an earful from Tsunade as it was. She decided she’d apologize to her first. And heading that way had the added benefit of bypassing the throng of councilmen exiting the meeting.

She was nearly to the Hokage’s office when a voice echoed up the empty corridor behind her.

“Sakura!”

She stopped and turned slowly. She hadn’t really expected to get away without a dressing down from someone. But the last person she expected to be seeking her out was Sasuke. Maybe he wanted to thank her, offer a kind word—

“What else did he say,” the dark haired nin said sharply, coming towards her down the hall.

“W-What?” she said, thoroughly confused.

“You said he wanted information about me. And you said so before, that Itachi thought I was weak.” His hard eyes searched her face. “He spoke to you at length, didn’t he — about me. What else did he say?”

“That’s what you want to know?” she said, incredulous. All this time, did he think she was lying? Or did he simply not know how to ask her again?

Sasuke glared at her unflinchingly. But his lips were slightly parted, dragging in more air. And though his skin was pale, his cheeks were lightly flushed.

Anyone else might have missed it, but she knew his facade of control had been shattered. He desperately wanted to know about Itachi. It was clear these thoughts had been consuming him.

Sakura looked away. Itachi manipulated everything, and this was yet one more way.

She bit her lip. She decided she wouldn’t let him get to Sasuke through her. It may be small, but she’d thwart him.

“No,” she said resolutely and turned to continue down the hall.

“No?” Sasuke choked out. He grabbed her arm like a vice clamp and didn’t let go. Sakura turned back, eyes blazing.

“Tell me what he said,” Sasuke demanded, voice shaking slightly. But his commanding tone pushed any sympathy out of reach for Sakura.

“And I said no,” she bit out.

He tightened his grip, glaring at her. Inches apart, Sakura glared right back at him, refusing to be intimidated. She’d fight him again if that’s what it came to, even here, in the hallway outside the Hokage’s office. She didn’t care what the punishment was.

Apparently he thought the same. His black eyes took on a menacing red tint.

Sakura dropped her gaze instinctively. Just how far would he go, she thought. Fighting was one thing, but a genjutsu she would not welcome. She had secrets now, someone to protect….

Sakura tossed her hair back over her shoulder and tipped up her face, but she didn’t quite meet his eyes, just in case.

“I will not be Itachi’s tool,” she said, shaking her head. “He said untrue things about you, I think, perhaps, to provoke me to speak.”

Sasuke released his grip slightly. “What did he say,” he pressed again, but this time his voice was a little calmer.

“I will not tell you,” she said again. Her voice was lower too, but firm.

Sasuke didn’t let go of her, but the sharingan was receding. It was pain that drove him, not hatred, she told herself. But she still wouldn’t be used as an instrument of Itachi’s manipulation.

“What he said was bullshit. Lies. Everything he did was to get a response,” she said. Sakura paused for a moment before adding quietly, “he told me I was useless, and that Konoha had abandoned me.”

Sasuke blinked. “Why would he—”

“So that I would give up something about you,” she snapped.

“But what would you know—”

“Exactly. There was nothing I knew.”

Sasuke was silent.

“Did you tell him anything?” He just wanted to hear it.

Sakura gave him a long, serious look. “I told him nothing.”

Steady clacking filled up the silence, drawing closer. Tsunade and Kakashi rounded the corner and instantly perceived trouble, although the heightened chakra coming from both nins was falling by the second.

“What’s going on out here,” Tsunade’s stern voice carried up the hall.

“Teambuilding,” Sakura said firmly, never taking her eyes from Sasuke. He was cowed enough to let go of her arm. Pink marks remained where he had gripped her too tight.

“Is this a joke, Kakashi?” Tsunade said, turning to the jonin in disbelief.

“She has some unique ways,” he said with a nervous laugh. “But they are effective.” Sasuke frowned.

“Well take your ‘teambuilding’ outside,” Tsunade snapped, stepping around them to go into her office.

“Hai,” Sakura and Sasuke said in unison.

“Kakashi,” Tsunade’s voice carried out through her open door. “Isn’t she the one who broke the Yondaime’s picture frame?”

“Uh…I’m not exactly sure which one did….” his voice thinned. He looked back helplessly at his two bickering students.

Sakura cringed and glanced reflexively at Sasuke. He shot a deep frown at her, blaming her still. She folded her arms and scowled back unapologetically. It was his fault to begin with.

The memory stoked fresh anger for both of them. Each turned on a heel and stalked out in opposite directions down the hall.

“Please close the door behind you,” Tsunade’s voice carried from inside the office.

Kakashi watched them go. The solidarity from the meeting was long gone.

With a sigh, he closed the door.

————

Sakura spotted the Hokage’s scroll as soon as she rounded the corner at the hospital’s front desk. To her eye, it stood out like a beacon from the rest of the bulky scrolls piled in the receiving basket. They weren’t urgent documents, just official. Sakura eased the slim roll out from the center of the pack, the blue-green tassel at the visible end dancing with the movement.

Just as she suspected, it was a summons to discuss her upcoming mission. Quickly pocketing the missive, Sakura rearranged the three clipboards she had pinned under her other arm and continued down the hall to finish her shift.

By mid-afternoon, she was off duty. Sakura pushed open the double doors of the hospital and relished the feeling of sun-warmed air instead of the bracing chill. Spring was slowly breathing life back into Konoha. Though mornings were still cool, the afternoons were beginning to warm up nicely. She took the long way up to the tower, enjoying the bright green tips bursting out on all the plants. It seemed like a lot of people had the same idea, and the streets were filled with other villagers enjoying the fine afternoon.

Sakura rapped once and, receiving permission to enter, opened the Hokage’s office door to be greeted by another push of warm air. Apparently even Tsunade had figured out a way to enjoy the fine weather: a window behind her desk was cracked open. The little gust of wind rippled over the papers scattered across her desk. Sakura quickly shut the door before anything could take flight.

Tsunade’s desk normally had several stacks of papers. But this time, the stacks had been relegated to the floor. On the desk now stretched a wide map. Either side flopped over the edges, tipping back up in fat curls. Scattered across the map were scraps of paper, clan symbols, jotted notes and thick files. Sakura initially thought they were just strewn over the surface, but as she drew closer it became clear that the little piles corresponded to locations.

Sakura glanced at Tsunade, a question on her lips, but she stopped at the sight of the woman clearly fretting over the very same map. She had barely seen the Hokage in the last few months. Her time seemed to be filled with meetings, moreso than usual. Perhaps this map had something to do with it.

Tsunade pushed a hank of blonde hair away from her face, adjusted her blue-green jacket, and fixed her full attention on Sakura.

“I’m glad you could come on such short notice,” she said. Sakura simply nodded. “There are some things I’d like to go over with you before your next mission. Step around here,” she said, beckoning her behind the desk.

Tsunade flattened her hands across the broad map, pushing some of the notes to either side. The five largest nations were outlined in thick lines. But within the ring of border territories that divided the Fire country from the rest of the world, the boundaries had be erased and redrawn countless times.

Sakura could clearly see the route she would take from Konoha to the merchant village on her next mission. Beside the town, thin notes were jotted in the empty spaces. Everything was there, clan names and trading information. Even allegiances from previous wars.

But the rest of the territories were noticeably devoid of information, save for the scraps of loose data laying atop some of the largest towns. Sakura gathered the she was looking at the sum of Konoha’s knowledge about the border countries.

Tsunade pointed briefly at each pile, giving a short description of what they knew. Sakura studied it furiously, trying to catch everything.

“Um, maybe I should take a few notes,” she said finally, a little overwhelmed by the vast body of small details.

“No, no. There’s no need,” Tsunade said, a tired edge to her voice. “The information doesn’t amount to much, and I don’t expect you’ll need it to complete this mission.”

She folded her arms and studied her student for a moment. “Actually, I’m hoping you can help fill in some of these holes,” she said, pointing to the smaller dots that floated on the clean expanses of map.

“Something is happening in these border countries,” she began slowly. “But I just can’t figure it out what’s going on….”

Sakura tipped her head, frowning in silent question.

“The mission requests have dramatically increased over the year. Specifically, ones seeking an official backing at trade meetings. Which would indicate shifting alliances within these territories. Yet we have not heard of any—”

“But isn’t it normal to have shifting alliances? Isn’t that why I’ve been assigned to these missions?”

“Yes, but what is left out of these scrolls is as important as what is put in. These are proud towns, secretive clans. They wouldn’t ask for help unless they really needed it. They must truly believe that they are going to be opted out of these meetings if they don’t come with a show of strength.”

Tsunade plunked a hand on her hip. “And these are not situations where a show of strength is required. Usually, mission requests come in response to an existing problem, like catching known thieves or guarding a shipment from ambush.”

Sakura couldn’t help but cringe at the memory of her own bungled mission on the trade road years before.

“But these requests are in response to a threat, to a problem that has not yet occurred,” Tsunade continued. “If they had only requested you, then I wouldn’t be nearly so suspicious. But these scrolls are coming in from all over the border territories. Which tells me it’s not just politicians passing on your name.”

Tsunade pointed to a fresh stack of scrolls. “Not all the missions requests are about trade alliances. But enough are that it’s starting to concern me. Are these,” she picked up a scroll and bounced it in her hand, “the result of rumors or is there a real threat out there?”

“But…” Sakura didn’t want to be rude. “So…. Then, what do you think is the threat?”

“I’m concerned another nation is forging alliances within these territories. But only one of the largest nations would have the resources to reach so far….” Tsunade’s voice thinned. She dropped the scroll back into the pile. “The spike in requests is just too high to be mere coincidence.”

With a sigh, Tsunade turned her attention back to the map. “The Fire country is in a precarious position. And it always will be.”

Sakura skimmed the old document as well. It wasn’t an entirely accurate map, just a reflection of what was important to the big nations.

Only the thinnest lines marked off the border countries, they were so insignificant. Just scratches here and there to indicate grasslands or forests, maybe a few houses to indicate a far-flung farming community or a tightly packed hillside town. Sakura looked again: Many of the places she’d traveled through weren’t even represented.

“The other nations have natural barriers,” Tsunade said. She leaned over, pointing to Earth and Wind, with their vast stretches of harsh landscape, then to Lightning, with it’s narrow isthmus connecting it to the mainland, and finally to the Water country islands, sailing alone in their treacherous waters.

“But the Fire country only has these border countries separating us from three of the other four nations.” She traced her finger along the U-shaped strip of land that ringed their country. Sakura counted up six — no, seven! — distinct territories on the old map.

“The large nations use these small countries for trade, but more importantly, these lands serve as a barrier between our borders,” Tsunade said. “They cloak our missions and act as a buffer zone. In the past, this was where we waged our wars…. Trade is just a benefit.”

Tsunade looked sideways at Sakura. Her whiskey brown eyes held un unusual chill. “We can’t afford for these territories to form alliances that might one day be used against us.”

Sakura understood, she really did. But even as she agreed with the Hokage, she did have a fleeting sympathy for those areas. The residents of those far-flung communities just had the bad luck of living in a place with no hope of protection. And really, no hope of ever becoming a country in their own standing. No matter how noble Konoha’s principles may be, it was in their country’s best interest to keep those territories on their knees.

But now she realized why the trade alliances were so tremendously important to the citizens of these lands. More than just a quick job for a kunoichi, this was their only hope of protection. A larger nation would not wage war from a town that brought a profit. A simple alliance, a promise of wealth, could ultimately be the difference between life and death.

But any other opinions were swept aside by Tsunade’s serious tone. “So you can see why it’s so important to find out what’s going on out there. Instead of just rampant speculation and guesswork,” she said, waving a hand in frustration at the piles of paper pushed to the far edges of the map.

“Because my hunch may be wrong. I just don’t have enough information to go on, and I don’t have any other shinobi to spare on such an assignment. Even to confirm that this is indeed what’s happening.” Tsunade rubbed a hand across her forehead. “So in the end it looks like I’ll have to—”

“I’m so sorry,” Sakura burst out suddenly. Tsunade looked up in surprise to find her apprentice with her head bowed a little, her face tight with some unknown worry. “Maybe Sasuke would have been available if I hadn’t….”

Scoffing loudly at the thought, Tsunade waved a hand to stop her.

“Sasuke’s problems are none of your doing. And you standing up for him in front of the high council was admirable,” she said, pausing to smile. Sakura was pleasantly surprised. “Hopefully, one day, he’ll appreciate it too.”

Sakura smiled wryly. “You mean, me yelling at the council on his behalf?”

“No,” Tsunade said, laughing. “Reminding them that Sasuke is a shinobi.”

She paused for a moment. “Things are complicated for him. And they probably always will be. But that’s not all his fault…. I’m sure you can tell now that there are different opinions about Sasuke’s role in the village.”

Sakura nodded.

“But the complications run much deeper than you realize,” she added quietly.

Tsunade turned and looked out the broad windows behind her desk, eyes fixed on no point in particular.

She pondered sharing more, telling the young kunoichi about the different factions in the village. How the tug-of-war over Sasuke ran deeper than she could ever know. And that Sakura’s comments struck right at the heart of the matter.

Even with all his bandages, Danzou was still as cunning as ever. He would like to keep Sasuke locked away, the Uchiha’s technique at his ready disposal, and he had the council’s backing. But she felt as Sakura did: the boy was proving to be as fine a shinobi as Konoha could ever hope for. And his clan would certainly have been proud of him. He was turning out to be a prodigy. Sakura wasn’t too far from the truth either in her spirited comments. Maybe not yet, but one day he truly would be the only one who could stop Itachi.

However Tsunade knew the discord between her and Danzou ran deeper still. This was more than just a battle over a bloodline. They had been set on different paths over 16 years ago, though neither could have known it at the time.

Tsunade rubbed a hand over her eyes.

What could she say? Did she have the heart to reveal Konoha’s deepest, darkest secret? Tell her that yes, monsters were real? They come in the night, burning and killing like in your worst nightmare. And yet Konoha had miraculously survived by channeling the power into a single boy, chosen to protect the village.

That was a fairytale compared to the truth.

In the frantic moments after the attack, the Yondaime and his wife must have known that sealing the demon in their child was the only hope for the village. Tsunade understood their reasoning: As the boy grew, his strength would naturally fuse with the demon’s chakra, making him one of the most powerful shinobis in the world. It was a gift equal to the price paid by his parent’s love.

In the aftermath, stories surrounding the attack were widely dismissed. The villagers, along with the largely civilian council, were happy to let the nightmare fade away. In the clearing light of the days and weeks after the attack, most decided it was simply some natural catastrophe, magnified by the confusion and embroidered upon with colorful details. They all pulled together, swept away the reminders and returned life to normal. Only lingering superstitions remained.

The shinobi who fought and watched so many die had a broader understanding: It wasn’t a nightmare, it was a demon. But they also accepted it’s defeat without questioning. Somehow the powerful Yondaime and his wife had stopped the kyuubi, giving their lives for the village they loved.

But only a precious few knew the real sacrifice. The demon thought to be banished was actually still in housed in the village, sealed in the fragile body of an infant. A baby, born the night of the attack and orphaned in the first hour of his life.

Danzou stridently argued that the jinchurikki child be brought up in the ranks of ANBU, destined to be a bright star in Konoha’s shadowy, elite military force. But the old hokage, still reeling from the loss of his wife in the attack, decreed the boy should have a normal life, as his parents would have wished.

And that single act changed everything.

Sometimes she wondered if it would have been better if Danzou had been allowed to have him. Then perhaps things would have been different for both those boys….

Because by the time Tsunade returned to the village, Konoha’s jinchurrikki was long gone.

Only a cold trail of clues pointed to who had taken him — Itachi Uchiha, she thought, narrowing her eyes — but he was as elusive as he was brutal. He had planned everything, down to the last detail. Years later, on another devastating night, Itachi inflicted damage to Konoha that was simply incalculable: He had wiped away the most powerful clan and stolen the village’s best hope of protection.

And, from everything she could find out, Konoha was partially to blame for it.

Now Danzou saw Sasuke’s life as his chance to right so many wrongs. He would not let this child slip through his fingers. And he had an ulterior motive that most of the council would never know about. Keeping Sasuke close to the village, locked away like a prisoner as Sakura so aptly put it, turned the boy into Konoha’s mock jinchurriki.

What future plans he had for the last Uchiha was anyone’s guess. She had some idea that Danzou would like to procure another jinchurikki, but he never again mentioned the one they lost. Danzou seemed to take the theft of the child as a personal affront from Itachi, another one of ANBU’s bright stars before he betrayed them all.

Although missions for Sasuke were bound to have dangers with Itachi still on the loose, Tsunade sometimes thought it might be just as dangerous for him within Konoha’s walls while Danzou was continuously scheming.

And so the memory of the Yondaime’s son was left to simply fade away. Danzou certainly hoped it would. With the real jinchurriki out of the way and the mock jinchurikki under his thumb, Danzou’s ambitions could move forward unimpeded.

But he underestimated the devotion of the shinobi to their fallen hokage. The small band who knew the truth vowed never to give the boy up. They searched for him still.

Tsunade breathed in deeply. She had considered sharing the horrible truth with her apprentice on a few occasions. She trusted Sakura implicitly, and there was a slim chance she might hear some news of the lost boy. But as she glanced over, remembering Sakura’s passionate speech in front of the council, she decided not to. The kunoichi still believed that Konoha wouldn’t fail her.

Tsunade looked back out across the skyline, never quite registering the happy patchwork of colorful roofs and greening trees.

No, she knew what it was like to live without hope. And learning that the strength your village relied on was just a mirage was nearly too much for any shinobi to bear. Especially while the other nations still had their very real, very powerful jinchurikkis.

She just couldn’t burden her with that knowledge. Yet.

Tsunade flicked her gaze back to Sakura. There was, however, another problem on the horizon she could illuminate.

“In the council meeting, you were about to mention Itachi…and the Akatsuki,” she began.

“Oh yes,” said Sakura, remembering Tsunade’s subtle shake of her head.

“There are many factions in our village, civilian and shinobi, and differing points of view within those factions,” she continued, turning back to her desk. “And we can’t always be assured of everyone’s vision. These different factions could pull us in separate ways. So sometimes discretion can save us a lot of trouble.”

Sakura nodded, only partially understanding.

“Linking Itachi to the Akatsuki might have some unwanted consequences. The council is largely civilian, save for Danzou and myself. If they knew of another group, a criminal organization of nins, not linked to any country, they would be in an uproar. These are politicians, not shinobi. And I’m sure you know now that—

“Wait — if Danzou knew about Itachi and the Akatsuki, then why did he tell Sasuke he wasn’t a threat? Was it a lie?”

Tsunade smirked. “Danzou and I are not of the same opinion as to Sasuke’s role in the village. Danzou would rather him stay within the walls, regardless of what kind of threat is out there. And he will do or say anything to make that happen.” She shook her head. “It is one of many points on which we disagree.”

Tsunade leaned against the desk. “But Kakashi and I are very glad you stood up for Sasuke at the meeting. Teamwork, more than any other skill, can sometimes mean the difference between life and death on the battlefield. Your support of your teammate is the mark of a fine shinobi.” Tsunade smiled briefly at her apprentice. Sakura’s reflected smile, the hopeful eager expression still intact, reassured her she’d made the right decision.

Tsunade turned and spread her hands out across the desk, flattening the withered old map again.

“Back to the problem at hand,” she declared. “I certainly couldn’t have foreseen this when you started accepting these missions, but you are in a pivotal place to bring back information to Konoha.”

Sakura nodded curtly, eyes focused on the map.

“It’s nothing dangerous, and really nothing out of the scope of the mission assignment. But it is much more involved than anything you’ve done yet.” Tsunade peered at her. “I want you to collect every scrap of data you can about who is there, who they are with and what they are expecting to gain from this trade meeting.”

Tsunade pointed to the red dot of a town Sakura was assigned to. It was in the center of a spiderweb of trade roads.

“My hunch,” she continued, dragging her index finger along the routes the flowed deep into the hearts of the other three land-bound nations, “is someone from one of these large nations is working through the smaller towns for some unknown end. We may not know their final goal, but we can try to determine who the players are with this meeting. And if we can uncover a pattern, then we can find out what’s happening.”

Sakura eyes shined with understanding, alert as a seasoned shinobi twice her age.

Splaying a hand, Tsunade tapped out points rapid-fire on her fingers. “Watch for politicians with a large guard, and the ones with money to spend. Listen for name-dropping — some politicians like to brag about where they’re getting their money from, especially at a meeting like this. Keep an eye out for the ones who look like they have something to hide. They may or they may not. And watch the doors: Always make note of who’s arriving together and who’s leaving together. Sometimes that can give you the clearest picture of allegiances.”

Tsunade continued, going through every scenario Sakura might encounter. And Sakura took it all in, nodding after every point.

Finally the Hokage produced the mission request scroll from the clan who hired her. Red tassels swung at either end. This scroll functioned, for her, like an invitation to the trade meeting. Without it, she might not be admitted.

“Three weeks from the festival, you will deliver another scroll to the clan from Konoha, offering official protection should they need it. It is a formality, nothing that would draw the eye of the other nations. But it will provide us an in-road to more meetings without having to wait for a request.”

A knock sounded at the door, but Tsunade ignored it. “If one of the nations—”

The knocking resumed. Tsunade frowned.

Dropping her voice, she pushed the scroll into Sakura’s hands and talked over the noise. “If one of the nations is forging alliances in the border countries, then we will not miss an opportunity to forge one as well!”

The knocking began again.

“What is it?!” Tsunade barked at the door.

Sliding it back, Shizune entered, smiling broadly, completely unflustered by the Hokage’s brusque tone. She was balancing more papers, scrolls and, somehow, a tray of tea. The anger of the instant before was forgot, and Tsunade moved quickly to assist her.

Sakura looked down at the map again. Now she understood the depth of Tsunade’s concerns when she began these cross-border missions. Though she knew all about the border countries from her academy lessons, now she saw them in a different light. The Fire country was in a precarious position. If something was going on out there, it was in their best interests to check it out, and stop it before it spread out of control.

A large gray smudge on the old map snagged Sakura’s attention. It completely covered a forgotten territory where the Fire, Earth and Wind nations converged. Earlier, she had dismissed it as just a stain on the paper. But looking again, she wasn’t so sure.

Leaning closer, Sakura could see the murky blotch was held in by the borders of the three nations, never crossing them. It just pooled there, gray and dissolving, like a thick fog or a vast pocket of slurry. Perhaps it was a geologic feature?

“What’s that,” she blurted, pointing to the rough-edged spot.

Tsunade cut her eyes over the brim of her tea cup. “Nothing there but rain,” she muttered.

She took a quick sip, then answered distractedly. “That country’s been at war with itself for years. Just one less border to patrol. They’re no threat to us.” Her attention had already moved on to the newly arrived documents.

Sakura shrugged. With a last glance at the map and it’s one gray blemish, she pocketed her scroll and left the Hokage to the rest of her day’s work.

————

The muddy pothole was already overflowing when the cold downpour began again. Fat rain drops sloshed out more water, spilling it down into the narrow channels of the cobblestone lane.

Run-off fell in thick streams from the roof, spattering up onto the old porch. Flecks of water hit his shoes, but Katsuro didn’t care. He was glad to be out of the rain, if only for a little while.

Leaning beside the splintering door frame, Katsuro relaxed his shoulders and waited. He pulled the dark cloak tighter around his neck, letting the shadow of the hood do all the work. No henge this time. In the grey rain, it was nearly impossible to make out his face.

A few townspeople hurried down the lane, trying to avoid the deep, water-filled holes. A lanky teen happened to look up and see the black-clad figure skulking at the doorway. He slowed, even in spite of the rain, gaping up at Katsuro. The older man he was with paused as well, catching what was distracting him. Father and son, Katsuro instantly thought. The older man’s face registered surprise, then alarm. He quickly cut his eyes away and grabbed the kid’s shoulder, hauling him along. The man leaned close to the boy, rattling his arm, saying something and nodding significantly in Katsuro’s direction. Whatever he said, it worked.

The kid’s eyes widened, then he looked away, obeying his father. Both dashed up the lane, disregarding their path and sinking their feet into the holes. Water splashed wide, soaking the bottom of their clothes.

Katsuro’s shoulders jerked with a mirthless laugh. He knew getting wet was the least of their concerns now.

His gaze dropped back to the rain-slicked boards. Sometimes it felt like he was living two lives.

Katsuro knew what people saw when they looked at him: He was someone to avoid. At one time that thought gave him a great deal of comfort. There was safety in being the thing that others feared. Yet now, having experienced the opposite, having townspeople look at him with a friendly eye, he found that it was much harder to slip back into his previous life.

But in the end, he supposed both lives were illusions. Whether with Sakura or with Itachi, he was doomed to be in disguise, always hiding something from someone.

Voices carried through the doorway. The target was not best pleased. Katsuro’s back stiffened.

“It will take more than that,” one voice said with haughty indignance. But Katsuro’s local contact could only sputter excuses. The man was supposed to broker the deal, now he was making a mess of it. It was why Katsuro had to come in the first place.

“Let me speak to your master. He is with you, is he not?” the voice said firmly. Boards creaked. Katsuro heard the local man’s attempt to stop him. But the target was used to getting his way.

The door slid open firmly, spilling out a rectangle of orange light.

Never raising his head, Katsuro watched two clean white shoes step out onto the muddy boards. They turned away for a moment, then, pivoted completely in his direction.

“You are his master?” But the man didn’t wait for an answer. “Whatever you are after, you’ll need more than this.” Katsuro heard the rustle of a scroll. “There are many more people involved than just me.”

Still propped against the wall, Katsuro never stirred.

The man was mistaken. Katsuro was only the messenger. Or rather, the enforcer. His assignment here was simply to make sure the local contact delivered the message, and that the target would comply.

Katsuro had gathered from Itachi that there was some slight resistance in this quarter. And that it was important this deal went off without a hitch. Important to who, important to what he was never told. Just that it was important. And so Katsuro was sent. He was to back up whatever was delivered in the scroll with his own particular brand of persuasion.

The scruffy shoes of Katsuro’s contact were the next set out the door. Katsuro tipped his face up, just enough to see them without being seen. The contact was wringing his hands. Katsuro nearly rolled his eyes, but seeing the man’s homemade clothes betrayed his real occupation. He was probably just a poor farmhand looking for some extra money. It took the sting out of his anger.

“Was the— Was the delivery not sufficient sir?” the man said placatingly.

But Katsuro’s target, much more finely dressed than anyone he’d seen yet in this hole, sniffed his disapproval. “Money will only get you so far.”

Katsuro narrowed his eyes. Their contact may not have been able to see this deal through, but the target — clearly someone who made his profit off the sweat of others — knew what game he was playing.

“This might be acceptable with some of your other ‘clients,'” he sneered, “but you cannot think that I would be swayed for so little—”

“You have already received a gift?” Katsuro said. He pushed off the wall and turned to face him. The situation was clear now.

“Your man did drop off a token, but—”

Katsuro raised his face, keeping top half was still shrouded in darkness. “Then you will do whatever has been directed of you in that scroll.”

“Well,” he huffed, “it will take more than to secure our trade exclusively. If you think you can bribe us into selling to those—”

“You have two choices before you,” Katsuro cut him off, voice gravelly with anger. “You can either follow the orders in that scroll, and make a profit….”

He tipped his face up just a little more.

“Or you can see all your meagre interests wiped away like mud from my shoe.”

From the depths of the hood, Katsuro’s eyes swirled red.

Like twisting a valve at his midsection, Katsuro let the malevolent chakra seep out. Heat spiraled from his stomach, licking up toward his chest, until he felt the familiar dull tug behind his navel. He needed enough…just enough….

Frozen an arms length from Katsuro, the man’s face was as white as his silk robes. His eyes were painfully wide. Over his shoulder, Katsuro’s contact, the erstwhile farmhand, was also loosing color. Idiot, Katsuro thought. But it did make things easier.

Fear would be the opening point of this genjutsu.

Katsuro breathed out through his nose, pushed back against the heat in his gut, and concentrated on the men in front of him. The curtain of water rolling off the porch roof slowed like liquid glass. Droplets hung in the air around them, suspended. Even the small puffs of surprised breath still clung to their lips. But only Katsuro noticed it.

Then, just as suddenly as it had stopped, the rain came crashing to the ground.

To all outward appearances, it looked as if the two men were frozen with surprise upon discovering the identity of the hooded man. In the next instant, both men smiled, as if so pleased to see this old friend. They patted each other’s backs, then returned through the door, each looking like they’d just been delivered fantastic news.

The cloaked man stepped back and dropped his face, letting the hood fall forward. In a swift movement, he was off the porch and back out into the downpour. Rain drumming loudly on his cloak, kicking up a fine mist around him, the man crossed the cobblestones and disappeared.

“Everything successful?” Itachi questioned without looking up.

Soaked, muddy and tired, Katsuro stood just inside the door of Itachi’s tent. He flung back the hood, spraying water in a ring around him.

“Hai,” he said flatly. “Had to use a genjutsu on them both. The target will comply with whatever is asked. The contact was useless, so I altered his memory of our involvement. If anything else is necessary there, I’ll handle it.”

Itachi looked up, an eyebrow hitched in unasked question.

“I felt he was too dangerous to leave with information.”

“Excellent,” Itachi said, clearly pleased that Katsuro’s self-protective instincts were still intact. “Any extra involvement there shouldn’t be necessary. What they have to offer isn’t the primary interest, merely a link to larger targets. But having control of their trade will ease access to those towns around them.”

Katsuro waited while Itachi wrote a few more lines.

“And what did you promise them?”

“No promise, just what you said. That they would be enriched, only profits, nothing to fear.”

“And he responded well to that?”

Katsuro shrugged, wiping the wet tips of hair off his forehead. “I also told him if he followed his instructions, in the end everyone would benefit. Then he would be their hero. That did the trick.”

Itachi snorted lightly at the last bit. “Ah, money and adulation.” He rolled up the scroll and set it to the side. “It is so easy, isn’t it. Just find what someone wants most, and there you have them,” he said, opening his hand. He fixed a steady gaze on Katsuro.

The boy before him had changed. Something was different since he’d left him last summer. There was a seriousness, a depth in his expression that had not been there before.

Itachi had never spoken to him about the constant missions during his absence. After all, he had approved of using the boy to do some of the grunt work, but only so long as it suited his purposes as well. It kept him out of camp – which generally kept him out of trouble — and it shielded him from prying eyes while Itachi was gone. Besides Katsuro was the only one he trusted to get the job done, and done right, when these irritating missions went awry.

He had assumed that Katsuro was simply trying to be as elusive as possible. But now, reflecting on the sum of his behavior over the past few months, Itachi wondered if there wasn’t more to the story.

“So, Itachi drew out, “you successfully hid our involvement with them.” Katsuro nodded.

“Good. There was a report of some shinobi stopping a few towns over. Did you cross paths with anyone?”

“No,” he said emphatically, shaking his head.

“Good,” Itachi said, unrolling a slim grey scroll. “You are taking every precaution, are you not?”

“Hai.”

Itachi was silent for a moment, reading the missive. With a grunt of distaste he set the scroll aside.

“I came upon some Konoha nins recently,” Itachi said, eyes drifting back up. “A three-man cell, traveling north. I took to the trees, and they never knew I was there. So be careful. They are out there, traveling where we least expect them.”

Katsuro nodded once.

“And for you, being recognized would be a fatal mistake. I would not be able to save you from them again.”

Satisfied with Katsuro’s respectful response — the boy was still the student, and he was still the master — Itachi continued, sowing the seeds of rivalry that would drive him on.

“Konoha nins are exceedingly capable. I would not underestimate them. Yet your biggest threat will come from my younger brother. I understand he has grown quite powerful. But true to form, the council won’t let him out of their sight,” Itachi said, the arrogant edge rising in his voice. He still harbored some pride at being able to predict the movements of a village he left so long ago. “At any rate, Sasuke is the hurdle you have to overcome. I know they are grooming him to come after you, and right now, I don’t know if you are strong enough to take him.”

Itachi watched Katsuro for a moment. He was completely passive, but Itachi knew the boy would never shy from a fight. And just setting Sasuke as his challenge had to be burning him up. But whatever Katsuro’s thoughts were on that topic, he kept them tamped down. His self-control had matured some in the past year as well. Itachi was pleased. Things were working out better than he had planned.

Though Katsuro been in the cold rain for hours, the cloak felt suddenly stifling. He hated Sasuke, that much was true. But he had his own reasons now. Itachi’s goading was growing irritating. Only his continued questioning kept Katsuro from losing his temper. He had to be sure he covered all his tracks.

“As you were traveling last summer, did you make sure you were always in disguise?”

Katsuro stripped out all emotion. “Yes,” he lied.

“And never let your appearance show?”

“No,” another lie.

“Never let your age be revealed?”

“No,” and another one.

“Good,” Itachi said, satisfied. “Outside of your wind nature, those are the only other things that are identifiable. And the wind element can only be identified if you use it. But you have no reason to use it.”

Something Sakura mentioned struck in his mind. “Your wind thing,” she had called it. Katsuro’s gut clenched —Had he let something slip? But…how? — and a frown flickered over his face.

Itachi didn’t miss it. “Something troubling you?”

Katsuro immediately wiped his face and mind clean. “No,” he lied yet again, working quickly to cover his misstep. “Is the wind element so strong that a Konoha nin would recognize it right away?”

“No, perhaps not,” Itachi said. “It is a weak element and not worth the trouble of learning. But wind users are from Konoha, and it is one more link in the chain that binds you to that village.”

Katsuro thought for the first time that Itachi might be lying too. His opinion about the wind element was not new information. But it occurred to him now that Itachi was not a wind element user, therefore he would have very little knowledge about it. Even if he did think it was worth learning, there was no way he could teach him. Perhaps his strong opinion was in part to cover that weakness.

Itachi silently surveyed the boy. “We have both had interesting summers. I would wager you have seen a great many things.”

To Itachi’s surprise, Katsuro merely shrugged, cutting his eyes away. As if it were a summer like any other. Not that it was the first time he’d been given such a broad measure of freedom.

“I have stayed on the move, if that’s what you mean,” Katsuro said indifferently. “And I have delivered everything that has come down, often tying up the loose ends myself.” He hoped it was enough to shift the focus off of him.

Mercifully, it worked.

Itachi sat forward, picking up the slim, grey scroll he’d been reading earlier “Yes, you have had your share of grunt work, haven’t you,” he said with a sigh. “As have I.”

He handed it to Katsuro. “Well, there’s more to come.”

The scroll was dull and grey, like the dingy waterlogged town he just came from. There were no markings, but there didn’t need to be any. Katsuro knew exactly where the document was from — he had been following commands passed down on these all summer long. It was from the Rain village.

“I have fulfilled my obligations to the Akatsuki for the time being,” Itachi said. “So you will not need to stay away from camp for as long as you have been.” Katsuro pocketed the scroll and was dismissed.

Watching the swinging tent flap, Itachi was pleased that Katsuro’s self-protective instincts were still so strong. The taste of freedom did not seem to have made much of an impact on him. The boy knew how many enemies he had out there, and that Itachi helped keep him “safe.” And Katsuro still seemed content as the dutiful shinobi, just as Itachi had promised him all those years ago.

He laughed quietly to himself. It was almost too easy: Find out what someone wanted most, and there you had them. Katsuro was his best proof of that tactic. He didn’t even have to use a genjutsu. A simple promise to train the child to be a shinobi, and the rest had been effortless. After all his carefully laid plans, capturing a jinchurriki turned out to be one of easiest things he’d ever done. Pushing the recollections from his mind, Itachi reached for another scroll.

—————

The winter months dragged by. Itachi sent him on mission after mission. Katsuro followed everything he said. But it was not like it had been before. He had been interested in the missions, always curious and anxious to get going. But now he was just going through the motions, waiting for spring. Counting down the days. He didn’t want to hope he would see her, but he couldn’t think about anything else.

Some days he was sure he’d be able to meet her in the merchant village. Other days the weight of worry was heavy on him. So many things could go wrong. So he fulfilled his obligations and days slipped by.

He had no friends in the group, and no one he trusted. So it was much harder this time, knowing it wasn’t just a few days until he’d see her again. He’d never realized how lonely it was. But no one seemed to notice his change of attitude.

It was ironic, he thought while sharpening his weapons late one afternoon. He had lived in this loneliness most of his life. At the orphanage, no one ever paid him any attention. They hated him, and most days were spent as if he didn’t exist. And then at the end…well, by then he hated them just as much.

Katsuro scowled deeply at the memory, applying a particularly rough stroke to the edge of a kunai. His finger slipped off the end of the whetstone. The stone scraped across the face of the blade, and a red streak of blood blossomed across the pad of his finger. While he watched, the skin at the edge of the slice was already mending itself. By the time he smeared off the blood on the side of his pants, the nick was almost completely healed.

He had never forgiven Konoha. He still hated that place just as much as on the day Itachi found him. But somehow Sakura had smoothed over those wounds that had never quite healed.

He pitched the last scraped kunai onto the pile, leaned back and admired his handiwork. Thinking about their time together made everything more bearable. The tedious work, the awful situations. Just knowing she was there, connected to him, even in that village, it was like a lifeline. No matter how bad things got, he wasn’t alone anymore. How could it be that the worst things and the one best thing in his life had come from the same place?

He breathed deeply, closed his eyes and let the memory of her wash over him. The sunny days, the pranks, the way her hair swung out past her cheek when she looked sideways at him. The images, conjured up out of the darkness, sent a small smile creeping up his face—

“Well you certainly look pleased about something,” Itachi’s voice punctured the memories.

Katsuro opened his eyes, the smile vanished. It took every bit of control to stay seated, and not scramble up to standing in embarrassed self-defense. But he didn’t want to give away any more than he already had.

Itachi continued. “I’ve wondered what’s been distracting you as of late. Care to enlighten me?”

Katsuro shrugged as dismissively as he could and looked away, as if the mere notion was ridiculous. But he eluded the question with one of his own. “Was there something you needed?”

Itachi studied him a moment longer before coming to his real purpose. “I have another mission for you….”

Katsuro left the kunai where they lay and followed Itachi back to the tent, relieved to have escaped any interrogation. He had to be more careful. Itachi was naturally suspicious. But Katsuro had secrets now, even from the one who knew everything about him….

—————-

The tent flap lifted and fell closed behind the courier. A warm spring breeze skittered through, but was cut off by the fall of the thick canvas. It was an unwanted disturbance in the controlled air of the tent.

Pushing the newly arrived documents to the side, Itachi produced what looked to be a blank, unused scroll. Circling his hand around it, the cylinder glowed orange under his fingers for a moment before returning to pale yellow. He slid his thumb to the side. Where it was parchment before, now a red wax seal appeared. He flipped back the seal and unrolled the scroll, flattening it on the desk in front of him.

A colorless, tightly marked map was burned into the paper. It held little decoration, and no written notes, but it was extremely detailed down to the individual communities. Though there was no key, Itachi knew what every thin dot and slash referred to.

He scanned down it, lining up where Katsuro had been this summer, and where he was going. He could guess the next targets to come down.

Itachi registered a presence outside the door. “Enter,” he called without looking up.

It was one of the captains who helped keep things in order in his absence. Though initially Itachi didn’t care for the system of relying on nukenins to carry out the ground affairs, it had proved useful. And after several years, the system and the men had become invaluable tools to reaching their goals.

Itachi sat back from the map and listened to the man’s report: Everything was running smoothly. The group had been culled down, and the most promising ones were receiving extra shinobi training. Not enough to make them stand out, but enough that they can take down a village trained shinobi. This smaller group was proving far more useful than the a camp full of rogues. And the captain hoped to pick up a few more from one of the larger towns, streetwise and savvy, to round out another group.

Itachi listened to the full report and conferred on their plans for this summer when they broke camp permanently.

Itachi had covered everything, when another thought occurred to him: “And this past year,” he said, peering quietly over his clasped hands, “how did Katsuro get on with the new recruits? Any troubles?”

“None, actually. Hardly ever saw him. He was only in camp long enough to pick up his assignments, then he was gone again. Sometimes he’d double up and be gone for weeks at a time.”

Itachi frowned. The boy was supposed to keep a low profile, but that was extreme. Even for Katsuro.

Someone called for the captain from beyond the door. Itachi nodded and the man left.

Itachi leaned back and reflected on his conversations with Katsuro. Other than a general seriousness to his attitude, there was nothing amiss. Nothing to give him away. There had been a little ripple of emotion about the wind element, but that may have been nothing.

Sitting forward, Itachi scanned back over the map, reading the subtle marks that only he knew the meaning of. He ran a finger from town to town, following the mark of a bent line as it appeared next to the spread out communities. Itachi knew exactly where Katsuro had been. He had been briefed on all his activities, as he required in return for his loyalty to the Akatsuki.

But none of these missions should have taken so long. He frowned — something was amiss.

There was no great change in him, so Itachi wasn’t concerned. But he wasn’t interested in Katsuro having that level of freedom. It was too dangerous. But Katsuro didn’t seem affected by it. Indeed, for someone who spent apparently the greater part of the summer and fall traipsing around the countryside, he was acting like nothing happened at all. And for a boy who has grown up in a camp, among thugs and thieves, that part, at least, didn’t ring quite true. He should have had some impressions at least, bad or good.

So what he left out spoke volumes.

Itachi would have completely expected the boy to be pushing for more missions, more of the freedom. Not back to business as usual. He knew him enough by now. If he wanted something, he was tenacious enough to hang on until he got it. Either he didn’t care about returning to his previous freedom, he truly didn’t want to because of some bad experience, or most troubling, he was concealing something. No one stays out for that long with nothing to show for it but a shrug of his shoulders.

Itachi narrowed his eyes. And to double up on assignments….If that was the case, then where had Katsuro gone in the time between missions? What was he doing out there?

Itachi mentally went through the the boy’s comings and goings since he’d returned. But there was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, he hadn’t even requested another mission. He just accepted whatever came down to him. And it wasn’t so much of a lack of enthusiasm, but a preoccupation. Like his attention was diverted elsewhere.

The captain’s chakra registered at the door again. Itachi shelved the thoughts of Katsuro for the moment, and focused on the tasks ahead. The captain had a great deal to cover about new recruits and plans for this summer.

“We had some trouble along this trade route last summer.” The captain pointed toward the thin line, without touching the map. “Seems several towns have banded together, brought in some outside help. We didn’t even approach them.”

“Good.” Itachi studied the map closely, black eyes moving fast along the jagged borders, reviewing the private information that was encoded there. “There are only a few that are of interest. Perhaps we will move on these this summer.” He lightly tapped a few dots spread far and wide through the territories between the large nations. “Then we can pull the rest into line with minimal effort—”

Suddenly, Itachi looked to the door. “Enter.”

Katsuro pulled the flap back. “You had a delivery for me?”

Itachi sat back, a silent cue for the young man to approach. The captain moved to leave, but Itachi stopped him with a quick wave of his hand. Apparently this wouldn’t take long.

From underneath a pile of scrolls Itachi pulled out a large leather pouch. It’s fat bottom and tell-tale metallic clink left no doubt as to it’s contents.

“The clan head is expecting this,” Itachi said quietly, sliding it over, never breaking eye contact. “Your contact is his younger brother. Make sure the delivery finds it’s way into the right hands.”

Katsuro slipped the sack of coins into his pocket and nodded at the advice. Family members were known for betrayal.

Itachi rested his hand on the mission scroll instead of passing it over. “When are you leaving,” he asked casually.

Katsuro jerked one shoulder in apathy. “If the weather turns, I might leave a few days ahead of time.” But his eyes never quite met his master’s.

This time Itachi was watching for his studied carelessness. Katsuro shrugged, then evaded eye contact — it was the same as before. He’d found a pattern.

Itachi smiled toward the captain, as if sharing an inside joke. But when he spoke, it was aimed only at Katsuro.

“Since you seem to enjoy dashing around the countryside,” Itachi said, smile turning cruel, — Katsuro’s breath caught. He glanced involuntarily at Itachi. Just a shift of his eyes, but it was enough. Both knew Katsuro had never told him of his wanderings. Itachi had his confirmation: Katsuro was hiding something. He immediately came up with a new plan. — “I need you to intercept a scroll for me,” he finished.

Katsuro recovered quickly, submerging his emotions. “Certainly,” he said with cool politeness.

But instead of instructing him where to go, Itachi changed things up even more. “You seem to have a steady grasp on many of these areas, tell me where you’d like to meet him.”

Katsuro blinked once — the only sign he’d registered the change in protocol — then quickly stepped forward to study the map, closing off Itachi’s view of his face.

Fully aware of the evasive tactic, Itachi simply studied his bowed head. To his credit, Katsuro’s careless facade was nearly impeccable. Nearly. But then, the Uchiha always had been able to read him like a book.

Yet now Itachi found the careful concealing of emotions — the lesson he had drilled into the boy’s head to never, ever leave an opening — presented an interesting personal challenge. The master was the one being forced to look for the weak spot.

Katsuro made a show of looking to the far west of the map, where both knew his mission would take him. Then he swung his gaze back to the center.

“Here,” he said pointing to the large merchant village at the confluence of many trade roads. “There’s a festival coming up, I’ll meet him on the northern road the night after it ends.”

Itachi nodded and handed him the scroll. Katsuro turned to go. It looked like business as usual, but both knew it was anything but.

“One last thing,” Itachi called to Katsuro as he reached the door. “There is a tracker from Rain in main camp. Please send him in.”

With the ghost of a frown, Katsuro nodded once, then left.

###

Stepping out of the tent was like coming up for air. Katsuro breathed deeply.

He knew Itachi was suspicious — the missions, the odd requests, the double-edged statements. But this brush set him even more on edge.

He walked slowly back to main camp, giving him time to think before he reached the fire circle.

Just when he’d resigned himself to not seeing Sakura, after so many months of hoping, a shaft of light fell on his plans. Itachi let him choose the location. That strange, untethered feeling returned. He could make it, he could meet her.

But the request for a tracker overshadowed his blossoming happiness. Itachi may have needed the man for an entirely different reason, but Katsuro couldn’t help but feel there was a message in there for him: You’re being watched.

Katsuro relaxed his hands, trailing his fingers over the new green leaves as he walked. Well, he’d take what he got, now that he knew he could get to her. He’d just have to be extremely careful. With Itachi back in camp, it was just too dangerous. He may not get another chance like this one.

The mission scroll had him going pretty far to the west, delivering a payment, then procuring a scroll with information to return to the camp. He didn’t know what it was about, and didn’t care, either. He just wanted to get it over with. Snapping a dead twig, he turned up the path.

There was an inescapable prickling feeling that Itachi was trying to discover what he was doing. But Katsuro’s choice should outsmart any plans. He’d wrap up his first assignment early, then head straight to the festival. The mission was his alibi. No one would think to look for him in the bustling merchant town, days before he was expected.

He smiled inwardly at how well the hasty plan had worked out: He’d even padded in enough time to go back with Sakura and see the little girl again. Sighing softly to himself, he turned the last curve before the camp. He’d have to make this trip count.

The sandy expanse of main camp opened up in front of him. Squatting next to the fire circle was a lean, hatchet-faced man. He was hunched over, eating quickly and methodically watching everyone around him. Katsuro watched his eyes dart, marking the comings and goings through the open area, even as his movements remained perfectly controlled.

Katsuro lowered his head. This guy gave him the creeps. He’d seen him pass through the camp before and recognized him right off. He wasn’t a thug, he was another shinobi. But this one was a mercenary. Everyone was an enemy to him.

Katsuro recognized the cold calculation in his expression, understood it even. This was the bitter result of years of self protection. But he was surprised to find that he no longer found it something to admire or aspire to. Watching the man wolf down his food, leery of leaving himself vulnerable for too long, Katsuro was glad he wasn’t like that. He may not be able to trust anyone, but now he knew what it meant to trust. He’d established that bond, and it could never be taken away.

Aware of someone approaching him, the man jettisoned the bowl and stood swiftly. Hands on his hips, he turned his cold gaze on Katsuro. The man looked unimpressed, but Katsuro could see two fingers looped inside the waist of his fatigues. The thoughtless gesture probably put him within reach of a concealed weapon.

Katsuro closed off to the nin’s appraisal, turning his shoulder and sidestepping him. If the guy was a tracker, then Katsuro would give him as little a view as possible.

“Itachi wants you,” Katsuro grunted, never stopping. He wouldn’t give the guy the satisfaction of rattling him, he thought as he moved away. He’s just another nin passing through.

But even as he told himself that, Katsuro’s own instincts were kicking in. He was as wary of anyone from Rain just as he was anyone from Akatsuki.

A few paces from the fire circle, a safe enough distance from the man, Katsuro cut a quick look over his shoulder, just in case he had to identify him later. But the man was gone.

Katsuro stopped, blinking at the spot. He should’ve been there. He scanned the immediate area for the telltale signs of a shunshin. But the disturbance in the air that usually accompanied the body-flicker wasn’t present. Not one leaf moved, nor was any dust kicked up from a sudden swirl. It was as if he vanished.

Frowning, Katsuro slowly turned back to his path.

###

Inside the tent, there was a whisper of fabric. The canvas door flapped gently, moving in some unseen breeze. Then it swung back into place, falling still.

Itachi quietly set aside his scroll and steepled his fingers at his chin, looking straight toward the empty door. As if stepping through the fabric, the tracker from the Rain appeared in the tent.

Itachi watched him, taking note of the strange translucency at the edge of his sleeves and pant legs. But in the next second, the light shifted, and the thinness of the color appeared to be a just a trick of the light.

“You are the tracker, I assume?” Itachi folded his hands on the desk and nodded to him to come forward.

The man slowly approached, a bland expression settling on his face.

“I have a task for you before you return,” Itachi said, laying his hand over a small, thin scroll. But the man didn’t move to accept it.

A small sack of coins was dropped next to the scroll. “You will be reimbursed for your trouble, of course.”

At this, the man finally showed some interest. He stepped forward, scooping up the change purse first, surreptitiously measuring it’s weight as he pocketed it, then retrieved the thin scroll.

“I would like another demonstration of your talents….”

Even before Itachi had finished speaking, the light around the man shifted. The edges of his clothing thinned and his whole appearance looked flat, like a piece of paper. Then, he simply disappeared.

Itachi nodded to the empty space, mildly impressed.

Indeed, in the silence, there wasn’t a trace of the man that was standing there. Or had he moved? Combining shinobi training for stealth with a trick of the light like that would be a useful technique.

Itachi let his sharingans bleed to the surface and immediately recognized the chakra disturbance a few paces away from where the man had disappeared.

“Good,” he said, nodding to the new spot. “Excellent. You may leave off now.”

The man reappeared, stepping forward and regaining his visibility with the movement. He had the disconcerting appearance of stepping out of thin air. But only when he was back in front of Itachi, full appearance restored, did Itachi let his eyes fade to black.

The man’s bored look was still firmly in place. Obviously he was so used to performing his parlor trick for clients, that he failed to realize this particular client was copying his technique. The corner of Itachi’s mouth quirked into a mean smile.

“Yes, I think you will do quite well,” Itachi continued. The tracker dipped his head and awaited orders.

———————

Even though she was far down the path, Sakura could still hear the dull grind of Konoha’s massive gates swinging closed behind her. The warming spring breeze was wonderful, and it was a joy to be trekking out again, especially through her favorite part of the deeps woods around the village. It was resplendent and bright green, from the thick moss under her feet to the rustling new leaves in the canopy, which was growing thicker every day.

Konoha’s climate was mild, so the transition from winter to spring wasn’t as noticeable as it was in other countries. But the territories she passed through were just awakening from the doldrums of winter. By the last leg of her journey, the only green was in the soft tufts of new grass that clung to the roadsides. But yellowy shoots were poking through everywhere, and the hardiest early bloomers were showing their faces to the sun.

At the outskirts of the land around the trade village was an old stone marker, denoting the beginning of the village woods. And, as if to advertise the thing they were best known for, a gorgeous old cherry tree was planted just paces from the stone.

It was beautiful and full. The gnarled stump twisted around and disappeared into the great cloud of pink and white blossoms. And beneath it was a wispy patch of green grass. So inviting, but she couldn’t stop. Instead she contented herself by watching it as she approached, letting the image mingle with a memory of another cherry tree, so perfectly situated, in the temple painting. It’s canopy hanging just so, providing the perfect cover of safety under its sheltering limbs. Sakura took a satisfying breath as she passed, then forced her attention to the road ahead.

This was no painting. And her happy memories of Katsuro centered around an entirely different, very real tree, from the summer past. Her mouth curved up. She was so excited to see him. She wondered if he felt the same. Somewhere out there, daydreaming about trees, and their time spent together, and more time to come.

There wasn’t long to be preoccupied: She was upon the town before she knew it.

Similar to Konoha, thick stone walls surrounded the trade village. But these were not military fortifications; their walls were much lower. And as a result, the tops of blossoming cherry trees were visible beyond the highest stones.

It was as if a great pink fog bank had settled over the town. But among the flowering drifts shot up little signs of the festivities within the walls: a colorful kite here, a long flowing streamer there. And little lanterns were bobbing even from the highest limbs.

It looked like a gorgeous party was waiting just beyond the walls, and Sakura’s mounting excitement was tempered a little by the throng of people who seemed to feel the same way.

Citizens, merchants, travelers and noblemen were all coming and going through the enormous wooden gates.

On either side, the massive red doors were flung back against the old walls, latches rusted in place. It was another testament to the village’s designation as a merchant town. Though it was near in size to Konoha, this village wanted visitors. It didn’t have secrets to keep in.

Sakura wound her way down with the crowd. All around her was chatter and laughter. The air smelled good,thick with scents of cooking food from beyond the walls. Her stomach growled, but she didn’t need to be embarrassed here — there was no chance anyone heard her.

Two children were darting in and out of the crowd, toys in one hand and paper-wrapped sweets in another, laughing hard. Sakura couldn’t help but smile as they threaded through the crowd, quickly making their way through the gates simply because they were so small.

Their excitement was infectious: Sakura decided she couldn’t wait to get through either. Standing on her toes, she craned her neck for just a glimpse of what lay beyond. Once through, she’d be able to see the whole scope of the beautifully laid out village. But right now, she’d have to settle for just the tips of the trees, and anticipation.