Sky on Fire: Slow Burn - Chapter 9
Title: Slow Burn
Chapter: 09 Miscalculated
Author/Artist: Skylar Inari
Pairing: Yamanaka Ino/Nara Shikamaru
Theme: 37 - Training
Word Count: 8688
Disclaimer: Naruto doesn't belong to me. It's Kishimoto's and I just play with it. AU immediately after the Sasuke Retrieval Arc. Part 9 of ? Unbeta’d.
--
Shit, shit, shit. Her thoughts were racing, her mouth dry with pure fright, and Ino knew she had to say something, already the pause was going on too long, too long, surely, to protest her innocence and say anything that could help this.
Megumi-san’s voice, the memory of it, rang through her mind with the force of whirlwind as she slowly backed away from the shinobi. Stay in character!
In character, in character. Okay, she had to be able to do that. Had to. It wasn’t over yet, they might just be guessing, and judging her reaction. “K-Kunoichi,” she stammered, eyes wide, her best ‘you’ve got to be joking’ expression on her face, somewhere, under all the fright that was purely unfeigned, “me?”
Not the best, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Hopefully they’d take her long silence and backing away a natural reaction for a civilian to have. Ino didn’t think she’d ever hoped for anything so much before.
She couldn’t read their faces, couldn’t tell what they were thinking, all she could do was keep up the act. Her trembling wasn’t entirely fake, she was scared, make no mistake, there were four of them, only one of her, and she was so outclassed that it was nearly a miracle that she wasn’t dead just because they didn’t like what she looked like.
The shinobi glanced between themselves and she bit her lip, wanting to bolt, to fight, to do something other than just stand there and shake like the civilian girl she had to play. Hopefully, and that was the only thing she could do, was hope, that the look boded well for her.
Stay in character, stay in character...
She’d never hear the end of it, if she made it out alive, if she broke character now. Ino could imagine the comments about not being able to hold up under pressure. So, she let herself tremble, and shake and look as terrified as she felt because they were four Jounin and she was just one unarmed Genin and if those weren’t the worst odds ever she didn’t know what were.
“Grab her,” the first shinobi said, sounding bored. Ino couldn’t help the wish that that was a good sign, that he was bored because she was boring and just a civilian, but she couldn’t tell if she’d convinced him or not.
Either way, the shinobi behind her moved and it took everything that Ino had to fight like a civilian-all awkward kicking, flailing arms, and giving a short scream as she did so. It was pathetic, but it was meant to be. And the fear was very real, and very present.
Stay in character, stay in character...
It was awful letting herself go down, taken easily despite her ‘efforts’ to get free. But the more useless they thought her, the better her chances of surviving. She had to believe that as a sharp rap across the back of her head sent her spiraling down into unconsciousness.
Amaya-san, she thought fuzzily, before everything went black, I stayed in character...
--
No one needed so much ground, he decided, staring out at the expanse of carefully cultivated gardens and deliberately charming streams and ponds. But then, of course, perhaps if he was a daimyo he’d feel differently about that. Somehow, Yuuta doubted that. He’s a practical man, and none of this is practical. Just gilt and flash to distract the eye and impress those with less money to waste.
Not to mention the fact that it really did make it quite difficult for his team to adequately keep tabs on their mission.
The one thing to be grateful for, he thought, shifting slightly and soundlessly in the tree he has perched himself up in, is that it’s not raining. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s still wet though, but Yuuta is glad enough for small mercies after six hours up in the same tree. He’s had worse, the six months of guard duty through Kusa coming to mind, but the wet has sunken into his skin and bones by now and he’ll be glad enough when he can warm up.
He shifts again, frowning. He’s uneasy, but unsure why. It’s like an itch along the back of his spine, the worry he feels tonight. Nothing more to go on but a feeling, an instinct really-but he’d gotten to where he was by listening to his instincts. They’ve saved his life more than once.
He doesn’t know it but they’ll save his life again tonight.
The itch worsens not long before midnight and he spends a few moments, seconds really, wrestling with himself about waiting for his relief, before shaking his head. Utterly quiet, not even the creak of the white armour all ANBU wear, gives him away as he slides out of the tree, and quick as a flash makes for Hoshino’s position.
He knew something had gone wrong, with the mission, with her, before he reached her position. There was no mistaking the scent of blood in the air and he slowed, suppressing his chakra even further to keep anyone from sensing him if they hadn’t already, and mentally cursed his hesitation in moving from his post. If he’d moved earlier…
Then he might be dead too. Yuuta knew that, had no time for regrets now, the mission was falling to pieces around their ears and he had to salvage what he could. A quick check proved that, yes, Hoshino was dead. He lifted her dog tags, pocketing them, and left her where she lay. She was concealed enough for now, and he had the rest of his team to ascertain their whereabouts.
That, of course, would be when he felt their mission’s chakra flare wildly. He froze for a second, before fingers grabbed up his transmitter and flicked it on. Radio’s had their own risks, they could be tapped, and traced, but he had an agent dead on the ground and a Genin who was in way over her pretty little head to pull out of the mission.
Before he could speak there was a rustle in the grass. He flicked off the transmitter even as his eyes scanned the ground and Yuuta relaxed only slightly when he realized that he recognized the small furry shape that was darting towards him.
Kneeling in the grass, he held out his hand so that the tiny mouse could skitter into his palm. “Dai,” Yuuta said, standing and ducking into the cover of one of the mostly ornamental trees that adorned the garden, his voice so quiet that it barely even would count as a whisper, “what’s going on? And keep it quiet.” Kotone wouldn’t have sent the mouse just for a basic report. It was with barely a thought that he sent a smidge of chakra to his ears to enhance their hearing. He’d need it, with a mouse speaking quietly.
He felt, rather than saw, the distressed twitch of whiskers that query gained him.
“Blood,” the mouse said, radiating distress, “You smell of blood.”
Yuuta fought back a sigh. “It’s not mine,” he said, giving Dai a reassuring pat. “Report.”
He supposed that he couldn’t get too irritated with Kotone for not sending a mouse that was better suited to battle, considering the restraints she was under, but that did not stop him from sparing the seconds it took the little guy to gather his thoughts to wish for it.
Dai stood on his hind legs, and Yuuta could see the faint hint of the white fur patterned in the symbol of Konoha, a little leaf, on the mouse’s belly. “Kotone-sama is ordering a code blue,” came the chittering answer, and before Yuuta could draw breath, rattled on into the finer details of the report.
As he listened, Yuuta’s heart sank. It wasn’t a good report, though it gave him a better idea of just what had gone horribly wrong. No wonder then that already he’d lost one agent, and if his guess was right, he might have lost several more.
“Dai,” his voice, if anything, was even quieter than before, “how quickly can you get back to Kotone?”
“Minutes,” came the squeak, “easier to return.”
“Good,” he said, “that’s good. I need you to get back to her and tell her that we’ve got a code red on our hands and agents down.” That got a chitter of dismay. “We’re pulling out, effective immediately. Meet up at point A. If she can’t get out, then she’s to keep the chit alive until we can get the both of them out. Understood?”
Dai nodded, though it was more of a bob of the head than a nod, and rattled the message back at him, word-for-word.
“Go,” Yuuta said, setting the mouse down on the grass. “Quickly.”
Dai gave an affirmative squeak, and was gone so quickly that Yuuta lost track of the little guy between one blink of the eye and another. Before he even paused to take another look around, he was speaking into his radio, telling the rest of his team, to get out and get out fast.
“Found him,” a voice he didn’t recognize said, just as he’d finished with his orders to his team, and the voice was soft enough that he could tell that had he not had chakra enhancing his hearing he wouldn’t have been able to catch it. Instinct sent him rolling across the ground, a kunai flying over-head as the enemy shinobi swore.
He got to his feet, still moving, always moving, and caught a glimpse of his attacker. No hitae-ate, he registered, but moving like a Jounin. That would have been worse had he been planning to stay and fight.
Right now though, Yuuta had more important things to do than fight. He had to get out of here, and regroup. Kei hadn’t answered the radio. Shimako and Kobayashi had. Down at least two, no guarantee that the rest of them would get out alive…
Yuuta flung a kunai back at his attacker, smirking slightly as the other was caught unaware by the smoke tag attached to the hilt-and, while the smoke billowed out, obscuring the immediate area, Yuuta ran.
Being a good ANBU meant that you were deadly, used to danger, and excellent at judging the odds. Yuuta had been in ANBU for three years already, which was longer than most. This scenario, he knew, would help no one if he stayed and fought right now.
There was a different sort of pride in knowing when to cut your losses and get out, no matter what the situation.
A kunai whistled past his ear, and his grin tightened. He’d get out of this alive, not because he was strong, or because he was clever-though skill had him admitting that he was both rather strong and clever, all things considered. False modesty had no place inside your own head, after all.
Yuuta ran.
--
Sweat beaded down her spine, a compliment to the way it was soaking the band she had in her hair to keep it from her eyes. There was a fine trembling in her arms-they were unaccustomed to the weight of this weapon, and she was still building the strength to use it for long periods of time. Her breathing was rough in her throat and she knew that sooner, rather than later, she would have to take a break, cool down, shower, then go and meet up with her team for their training session with Gai-sensei.
Tenten was also aware that it could, in some lights, be considered madness to be training so hard before subjecting herself to her sensei. No one would ever call him an easy one, despite his… eccentricities.
After her utterly humiliating defeat in the preliminaries of the Chuunin Exam Tenten had taken a good, long and hard look at her weapons arsenal and had come up with the undeniable fact that she’d been a fool to not have notice her most blatant weakness before. Yes, as a girl, she knew that the long range weapons were easier to handle-they were, after all, made to be light enough to carry many, to throw, and not many people could do that with the heavier weapons.
But that didn’t change the fact that it was up to her to shore up that weakness the best she could. She’d gotten spoiled, a bit, by the fact that between Lee and Neji she seldom had to close in and fight close-range. And, sure enough, the both of them were better than she was at it, but that didn’t mean she had had to have been so neglectful of it. Which she had been, and couldn’t blame on anyone else. In a way, Tenten supposed, she should be glad of the fact that her lesson had come in a relatively controlled environment and not out in the field.
She almost absently corrected her footwork, and swung the mace in the controlled arc she was learning, before dipping and spinning with it. The effort it took so that the heavier weapon did not throw her off balance was exhausting, but she took pride in the fact that it took less now than it had when she’d first started. And she did like the mace, it felt more comfortable to her hand than a hammer, and though the flail was more comfortable than the mace, the entire point of this was to get in close and dirty.
A flail, after all, was still too long range. She’d made a note to learn it though, once she’d gotten proficient enough for her tastes with the mace. Going, though, from how heavy she still found it, that’d be awhile.
Focusing on her practice again, just a little bit longer she promised herself, Tenten lost track of time until the sound of familiar footsteps brought her out of it. She grimaced, having not wanted to have her training become commonly known until she was slightly better at it-it didn’t effect missions as of yet because she wasn’t carrying it with her.
“What is it Lee?” she called, upon hearing the footsteps pause outside the room. “It’s late.”
“I am sorry, Tenten-san,” he said, sliding the door open and sounding far too awake for her liking considering the time of night. “It was not my decision to come and disturb you so far past reasonable hours.”
She waited for him, while she finished the move she was on and moved to the next one. Just one more and then she'd cool down for the night. No point in rushing things in an attempt to hide them now, there was no way it would escape his notice.
“A new weapon?” he asked, grinning. “Aha! So your will burns brightly in the secret hours.”
Finishing her last exercise with the mace, she set it in the rack on the side of the room and falling into her cool down exercises. That got a laugh out of her though, she quickly added spoke though to get rid of the momentary flash of hurt on Lee’s face. “A new weapon,” Tenten agreed. “Close range, which is different. I'm expanding my repertoire.”
Lee was many things but he wasn’t stupid. “Since the Chuunin preliminaries?”
“About that long,” she agreed. “Couldn’t just let myself stay with a weakness like that, you know? After all, I won’t always have you and Neji around to do the close range fighting while I pelt them from afar.”
“As long as there was breath in my body I would do my best!” Lee told her.
“I know,” by now, after two years, she understood him better than most and that was sweet of him to say, “but we won’t always be sent on the same missions. So I’ve got to get stronger.”
He nodded, eyes serious though his grin all but gleamed in the light of the lanterns that she’d put up. “Admirable! But why not in practices yet?”
She flushed a bit. “I will,” Tenten promised, “I just wanted to learn the basics on my own first before bringing it into practice. I’m not good enough yet to take it with us on missions so I’d rather not waste time when we could be working on something that is useful.”
Another nod and Lee fell down beside her to work on cool down stretches with her, though he hadn’t, as far as she knew, been doing anything strenuous. “We will help fan the flames of your youth, surely, Tenten.”
And that was something she found special. “I know,” she said, ducking her head as she reached for her ankle, “but I needed to fan them first on my own.”
“How long until you think you'll bring it to Gai-sensei?” Lee asked, as she started on her arm stretches next.
Tenten thought about that. “I'm not sure,” she caught sight of his face, and sighed. “I wasn’t lying, Lee. It’s just something I’ve been doing on my own. It’s still too heavy for me to use effectively.”
He perked up, and she knew that boded for much pain on her part in the near future. “Then I, and no other, will help you gain strength enough to swing it without ever breaking a sweat.”
And from the way he was looking hopefully at her, she couldn’t say no. “Alright,” Tenten said, and his smile was like the sun coming up.
They continued stretching, in comfortable silence, for another few minutes before Tenten asked suddenly, “Why were you looking for me anyway, Lee?”
“Gai-sensei says we have a mission,” came the answer, and Tenten didn’t have time enough to draw breath to berate him for not telling her right away when he continued with, “we leave at two.” Unspoken was the obvious fact that they’d be leaving at two in the morning. She glanced sidelong at the clock. Almost one. It wasn’t surprising, really, that he’d not been in a rush to say anything. They had the time.
“I’m going for a shower,” Tenten said, finishing her last stretch. “I’ll be back in fifteen. Keep a watch out here, will you?”
He promised and she darted from the room.
--
If chakra could be seen in colour then she’d classify Ino-kun’s as a vibrant, pulsing electric blue. A colour that was more than a match for those blue eyes that mimicked the bluest summer skies. Hers, Megumi supposed, she’d classify more as a mauve. Older, wiser, and more ingrained in how to react.
Ino-kun’s chakra, though she could not see it, was by now a rather comfortable hum in the back of her head as she kept track of her charge. And rolled her eyes when Ino-kun decided upon an extra-long bath. Though, rather, it was the thing an ordinary girl might do as well. Megumi rather thought that she’d let it slide this time.
She’d just set down her hairbrush, and been moving to air out the futons when Ino-kun’s chakra flickered wildly.
Megumi knew that she didn’t have much time. If Ino-kun had been captured then no doubt they’d come for her next. She could only base her reactions, though, on the way that Ino-kun had been taken. If she had, after all, managed to get taken as merely a civilian, then things were still dire, but not nearly so badly.
And if she’d been taken as a kunoichi, then things would be quite a lot messier. If Ino-kun wasn’t killed outright, then that would mean torture and interrogation, and she doubted that a Genin, however skilled Ino-kun was at certain things, could withstand that for long. ANBU agents had training to resist such techniques.
Rather than go and race for Ino-kun, Megumi forced herself to continue as if she had nothing on her mind but getting ready for bed, continuing to air out the blankets, and even going so far as to brush her teeth while she stretched her senses to try and analyze the link to Ino-kun’s chakra.
Flaring for a few minutes then, abruptly, the flare disappeared and she had a split second of fearing the worst before she realized that, yes, Ino-kun’s signature was still there, merely subdued. Likely, she thought, Ino-kun was unconscious. Better than dead, though that did not help her to make her own move.
To be entirely honest though, there were not so many moves that she could make. That was the largest problem with missions like this-never enough information and always too much time spend simply weighing options and knowing that, if nothing else, cover had to be held. It was the best, and in this case, nearly the only weapon she had besides her body.
Taijutsu was a strong point of hers, after all. It was one of the things that made the Hokage order her on so many missions where other weapons weren’t feasible. Like this one, she had a few pins, a few needles-all of them, though, were precisely the same as any other servant on the floor. Every woman needed pins for her hair, after all, and you could hardly be a household servant if you could not sew with more than passing fairness. Her brain then, and her body.
And chakra, of course, but that wasn’t something she’d use here unless it was necessary to break cover entirely. It wasn’t unheard of, after all, for a woman-especially a parentless one like their cover story had stated-to have some small skill in the martial arts.
Maintaining her own cover, now that she knew that Ino-kun had not been killed outright, was the first order of business though, and Megumi had confidence in that. The picture of pure ease, the movements of a servant who was tired, who wished to sleep, but nonetheless was staying up to wait for a younger sister, she settled herself on the edge of her futon, brushing her hair once more. A blanket, carelessly draped over her feet, added to the image, and now all she could do was wait and see. And plan the words she would like to have with Hokage-sama if they all made it out of this. On a mission like this, security and Intel ought to have been more thorough.
It wasn’t that long, no more than a few minutes, though ever second stretched out almost painfully in her head as she kept her body in a state of hyper awareness, before she heard something that she had not expected.
The soft squeaking that heralded the arrival of one of her summons-and the only one she had out and active was Dai-chan. Megumi didn’t flinch, and wasn’t surprised when a few seconds later, there was the scrabbling of little paws and the press of a cold nose against her ankle. The tug of fabric as Dai wriggled his way up to her lap likewise provoked no reaction other than to lean over and more firmly drape a blanket around her, looking for all the world as if she was merely cold.
She didn’t know if anyone was watching her at the moment or not-but it was better to assume that there were observers and to stay in role. That was the key during an undercover mission. Don’t break the role, ever. Not even for a second because someone, the chances were, would notice and then you’d be inviting trouble.
Dai eventually made his way up to her shoulder, completely hidden by her hair, and Megumi didn’t speak, just waited for him to tell her what Yuuta wanted.
“Code red,” Dai-chan said, his whiskers brushing against her neck. “Meet up at point A. He’s got agents down.”
Her blood ran cold. That, then, was more than a simple slip that Ino-kun had made where she might have been seen by one of the shinobi guarding the daimyo. This had been coordinated, and that made it that much less likely that they were to live. But Ino-kun was still alive, she reminded herself, and so, she couldn’t run. Not until she knew for certain what the situation they’d found themselves in was.
If they knew for sure that Ino-kun was a kunoichi, after all, then it might be better for her to run, and hope she could extract her before anything too traumatic happened. As it was though, she just listened as Dai-chan went on detailing what had gone on. Agents down… that was bad. Even worse was the fact that he’d not said a number. That meant he didn’t know, and she could only hope that the whole team hadn’t been taken out. Konoha couldn’t afford to lose more shinobi. Not so soon after Oto had attacked.
“Head to that point then,” she murmured, deciding that the risk was worth it, “tell them we’ll come if we can.”
She doubted it though, not from the way Ino-kun’s chakra had flared so wildly, then been quieted. That earned her another press of a cold mouse nose against her neck, and then she was silent as Dai made his way down her body and squirming back under the floorboards.
It wasn’t long after that, that a knock sounded on her door.
She waited a minute, knowing it would look no good to go for the door quickly when she was supposed to just be waiting for a sister who was taking longer than she’d promised in the baths. When she did get up, setting the blanket aside, and answered the door, sliding it open. She did so and started talking before, really, she (as Megumi) ought to have noticed anything amiss.
“Junko-chan, geez,” she said, sounding exasperated, “you were supposed to be back ages ago. What were you thinking, making your sister worry-“ her voice trailed off in a squeak of dismay as ‘Megumi’ noticed what was up with ‘Junko’.
For her part, as herself, and not as anyone else, she was relieved to see that yes, Ino-kun was unconscious and slung over the shoulders of one of the nin, wet brown hair soaking into his shoulder. She didn’t look injured beyond a few bruises. That much, at least, she could be glad for.
“Junko-chan!” Megumi cried, moving to go to her sister. “What happened to her? Did she faint from the baths?”
She felt, rather than saw, the looks the shinobi were giving each other over her head. Inwardly she smiled, though she was outwardly all solicitous in urging them into the room, thanking them profusely for bringing Junko back to her, and wouldn’t they like a cup of tea? Megumi fussed about, knowing that every inch of doubt she could plant in their minds about them actually being shinobi was an inch of doubt that would help keep them alive longer.
As they accepted tea, though she noted that they glanced at who had to be the commander (a tall, dark-skinned shinobi with deep green hair) for confirmation before taking it. She pretended to not see the way one of them was scoping out the room, checking for weapons-and here, she was glad that they’d find none, no matter how long they looked-and equally seemed to remain clueless about how only one of them actually drank the tea.
In case of poison, she knew. It wouldn’t do for an entire team to go down just because they were all stupid enough to drink the same thing from the same source. She smiled encouragingly and sipped at her own tea, noting how they relaxed slightly at that, before moving over to fuss over Ino-kun, stealthily checking for any less obvious injuries and openly bemoaning the foolishness of little sisters that spent so long in hot water that they over heated and fainted.
If she’d been an ordinary woman, then the slightest prick of the tip of a needle to the back of her neck would have gone unnoticed and she’d have tumbled into unconsciousness without ever realizing what had caused it.
As it was, she registered the needle, and even she let herself be taken by darkness, Megumi thought that was a good sign, all things considered. Gentle, then. They weren’t sure about their identities now, and Ino-kun had managed well enough on her own to further that doubt.
Gentle, but dark.
--
He was walking down the hall of an apartment building and considering it thoughtfully. He knew good and well that Anko was more than capable of affording a nicer place (though this one wasn't bad, not by any stretch of the imagination), and he also knew that not even Kurenai, who was in all senses of the word but for blood, Anko’s ‘big sister’ had not even tried to get the other kunoichi to consider the possibility of moving.
Ibiki thought about that as he slowly went up the stairs. No big deal, not really, just an idle thought. For all he knew, Anko liked saving a lot of her money. Or spending it all on booze. No elevators though this apartment had them, just stairs and that was good enough. He knew that in some of the bigger cities more and more places were adding in elevators-expensive things, those, and stupid for shinobi--it made anyone in them a sitting duck if you could gain control of the elevator, and that was easy enough with the right knowledge. He wasn't going to take that chance, even in the middle of Konoha. No one saw him, and even if they had they wouldn’t have recognized him, though they'd have known exactly what he was.
This night, he went not as Ibiki, who was Anko’s friend in some sense of the word, but rather as Morino Ibiki, Captain of ANBU’s Torture and Interrogation Department. It was rare enough for him to do this, but then, he’d offered because Anko was hardly likely to be happy and he knew her better than many.
Wearing the white armour, the black uniform, the cloak, and most importantly the mask, Ibiki wasn’t recognizable unless you knew that the spider on his mask was his. Very few did. He rarely went out on missions away from the city these days, spending more time dealing with those who were brought in for interrogation.
Anko would know it though. He rapped sharply on the door of apartment three seventeen and watched as the door wobbled from the force of it. That was just pathetic, he hadn't even been trying. It was ridiculously loose. He wondered if she'd even thought to complain to the landlord.
The door was flung open, Anko naked as the day she was born was there and snarling, “Do you know what time it is?” Then she paused and took a good long look at him, and what he was wearing, and the casual anger in her eyes faded into something harder and brittle.
Her voice, when she next spoke, was flat and cold. “Get inside.”
He obeyed; making sure that the door was shut behind him and watched while Anko tossed her jacket over her nakedness. More out of form than anything else, he knew. She wasn't body shy.
She scowled at him. “You going to take that mask off, Ibiki?”
That got a low, deep chuckle out of him and he pushed it up so that it was perched on his forehead. “Woke you up?”
“Just got in from a night out,” she said, shrugging. “Hadn’t gotten to sleep yet, was trying. What’s with the uniform?”
In response he pulled a white mask out from under his cloak, this one with a snake on it, and tossed it at her. She caught it automatically, he could tell, there was no thinking behind the movement. Anko stared at him, almost expressionless. “Mitarashi Anko, Ninja Registration No.: 011226, you are hereby recalled into ANBU’s service.” Ibiki looked at her, almost compassionately. “Effective immediately.”
“I got out of that hell hole years ago,” she said blankly, turning the mask over in her hands, “and you’re calling me back?”
“The scarlet spiral is a lifelong commitment,” he answered her, “and he made the decision to end your vacation.”
“And you came to tell me.”
“I offered.” He wasn’t looking at her, Ibiki knew that tone of voice, looking at her would net him pain. “It was the least I could do. Give you someone you know to yell at.”
“Yell at,” and that got a bark of a laugh, “but I can’t turn this down, can I?”
A long, slow shake of his head. She swore and he couldn’t blame her. “They mentioned something about that," she muttered, "first time in, and I didn’t pay attention. How often does this happen, Ibiki? Can you tell me that?”
“Not all that often,” he told her. “We’re not that cruel to shinobi that have already done their duty in it, and managed to leave alive. But right now, we need the people, and we need them to have more skill than the wet-behind-the-ears rookies that we’re getting-and we’re not getting enough of them either. Peace has made us soft. We’ve lost nearly every rookie in the last five years within the first eight months. People aren’t prepared for thinking or acting the way ANBU needs.”
She wasn’t looking at him now, instead trying the mask on again. “Downside of peace,” Anko said, with the mask on. “You lose the edge of war.”
Ibiki nodded. “You’re not the first shinobi we’ve recalled, and you’re not going to be the last. There’s agents going out tonight and giving people the news.” ANBU was going to be real unpopular for that move, but Tsunade-sama had approved of the request and authorized the recalls.
“We’re that bad off?”
“So far,” he said, a deep rumble, “it’s primarily precaution. We need the money for repairs, but there’s rumours of a war brewing and Konoha being the one it’s directed at.”
“There’s always rumours.”
“But they’re not always accompanied by deaths.”
“Shit,” Anko murmured. “Well, fuck. You need me right this second?”
“Hiromasa wants to talk to you.”
She nodded, getting up and leaving her coat behind as she slipped into what he assumed was her bedroom and coming back out in her mesh dress with sandals on her feet. It was the work of seconds to get her hair under control, he didn't even have time to get bored, and then she was looking at him while swinging her coat back on and tucking the mask into it. He didn't ask how she managed to keep the mask from falling there. They'd have to get her properly outfitted at Headquarters.
Ibiki cracked a smile, but didn't share his thoughts. Being back in ANBU meant Anko would be wearing more clothing than she'd been for years.
“Let’s go."
--
The streets were slowly drying, water still in puddles where the roads had dips in them and the ground was still quite wet, he just could just from walking on it and feeling the squish of it under his feet. Chouji wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sigh over the fact that he was contemplating how long it would take to dry (would it even get a real chance to fully dry considering the winter rains?) rather than listen to Shikamaru repeat himself again.
It was well known that, of the three of them, Chouji had the most patience. Ino had it when she had to, when she was focused on a goal... well, then, she could outwait anyone. Shikamaru could when he was planning, when there was something to plan on. Neither of them, though, had the sort of patience that let him listen to Shikamaru, who’d been on variations of the same theme for days and not give into the urge to knock him out.
He realized that Shikamaru had paused, and tilted her head curiously at him while scanning the area-they were in a park, a small one, with a few scattered benches and some attempt at a playground for the kids-and he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary other than the fact that this was, technically, slightly closer to the Daimyo’s mansion than Asuma-sensei had said they were to go.
Of course, Chouji thought, Asuma-sensei did not have to patrol with Shikamaru for half the day. He thought that just that small amount would be ignorable on the report they’d have to do when they got back, with a quick stop to pick up dinner, on the way. If there was something up though...
“What is it?” Chouji asked, watching the area more than Shikamaru. One look at his friend’s face said that this was more than just annoyance at the whole situation, and he shifted his awareness up a notch.
“Something’s wrong,” came the muttered answer, “the moment we walked into the park my shadow started acting up.”
Chouji sighed then, glancing sidelong at Shikamaru. “It’s been acting up since we left Konoha,” he didn’t wait to hear what Shikamaru would have to say to that, “and no wonder, you’re midway through working on-“
“That’s not it,” Shikamaru interrupted sharply. “It’s not. I know what that feels like, and this is different.”
He fell silent for a few seconds then, before replying to that. “Different dangerous?” Chouji asked, giving his friend the benefit of the doubt.
That got a half laugh, half snort, and the dry response, “Everything different is dangerous.”
Well, and true enough. Chouji wasn’t pleased with that though. “Different how? We’re not even supposed to be here-“
“It’s a park.”
“-and you know good and well that Asuma-sensei didn’t want us in this area. It’s too close to-“
“I’m going to go look,” Shikamaru said, stalking off towards, and here Chouji’s heart sank further, towards the Daimyo’s lands. “Come or not.”
There really was only one answer to that, he thought with dismay. It wasn’t like he’d ever be able to just... let his friend walk right into danger (potential danger, he reminded himself) when he could go with him and help. No choice was a good one and Chouji bit back a curse as he followed after Shikamaru.
“You,” Chouji murmured as he caught up, “if this turns out to be a false alarm, then you get to tell Asuma-sensei why we disobeyed his orders.” Shikamaru nodded, and Chouji was going to take that as assent. There was no question of that. Chouji was not going to take the blame for this, if they found nothing.
If they did find something, and it was useful, then that was a different matter. Though it didn’t change the fact that they’d disobeyed orders.
The woods were quiet, this late at night it was a bit surprising, even in the village this size, there should have been more animals making noise. Of course, Chouji thought, it could just be that they were silent because of them, and that proved nothing.
He followed Shikamaru, just far enough behind that should something attack his friend he’d be able to do something about it. For now though, there was nothing, and the woods, though quiet, didn’t seem threatening. It wasn’t much of a wood, really, just the area between the park and the Daimyo’s garden, and that had been left with the trees intact as it made little sense to cut them down.
“Weird,” he murmured, mostly to himself as they leapt over the waist-high wall that marked the end of the park and into the gardens. Shikamaru glanced at him. “No guards.”
And both of them knew that there should have been. The area was quiet, mostly devoid of any noise from night birds and other animals, but that didn’t mean that much. For all they knew, it could be quiet because they were there. That was as likely as anything.
Chouji, slowly was starting to think that maybe there was really something going on rather than it all being just in Shikamaru’s head. Admittedly, the distinct lack of guards had helped a great deal in that regard.
The second sign that something was several branches that had been broken, and the sharp scent of blood. He wasn’t an Inuzuka, but Akimichi had excellent senses of smell all things considered and he shook his head, even as Shikamaru tugged out a kunai. “It’s fresh.”
How fresh, exactly, was hard to say in the dark, but there was no mistaking that smell, and the fact that it was even there meant...
“We should pull out,” he said, and was unsurprised to see Shikamaru shake his head in the dark. Well, enough. Chouji hadn’t really expected that he’d be listened to, but really, he felt that if they were going to get into a bad situation then he might as well be the voice of reason-so he could say I told you so when it all fell to pieces.
For all their preparation and alertness though, they almost didn’t see the wounded ANBU. Shikamaru noticed him first and they both went quickly to him.
“What are ANBU doing here?” Shikamaru hissed, as they reached the man’s side. Chouji just shrugged. He didn’t know, but it didn’t bode well.
“Sarutobi’s brats,” the man said, and behind his mask they couldn’t see his expression. His voice, though, was easy enough to read and he was displeased.
Chouji frowned, even as Shikamaru demanded to know how the ANBU knew who they were, and scanned the area, hair-raising on the back of his neck.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, overriding Shikamaru. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
He didn’t need light to see the fact that Shikamaru was annoyed. “Whoever attacked is still around,” Chouji said, before Shikamaru could say anything. “If we want to be any use to Ino, we’ve got to get out of here, and get him to medical attention.”
That got a rough bark of a laugh from the ANBU. “Good thinking, even better. Code Red’s been called, we’re to get our asses out of here.”
It was normally Shikamaru in charge of planning and missions. It was Shikamaru that was the Chuunin, and it was Shikamaru that should’ve thought of getting out of here the moment they’d found more than the ghost of trouble.
It was Chouji, though, who helped the ANBU up. And Chouji who led the way out of the woods.
Shikamaru, for once, followed him.
--
Asuma was pacing, and fingering a cigarette though he’d not lit it quite yet, and wished once again that he could put his fingers on what was unsettling him tonight. At the very least, he was glad enough that he’d ordered the boys out to patrol the area again, and so he didn’t have to continue to act as a mediator between the two of them. He wasn’t sure what sort of disagreement they were having now, but it didn’t seem like anything that was going to effect the mission, so he’d let it slide for another day or so before making them deal with it and put it to rest. Teenagers.
It was six long steps from one end of the room to the other. Asuma turned upon hitting as far as he could go and started back the other way while tossing a cigarette up in the air as he went. Catching it easily, he debated lighting it. Unable to decide, for the moment, he tossed it into the air again. He could only hope that the decision to smoke, or not smoke, a cigarette would be the hardest one he'd have to make this mission.
Teenagers, that was just it. Still just stupid kids, though they were trying. Asuma wondered if that was something to be proud of, or not. Konoha, under the rule of the Third, had managed enough peace, for long enough, that their shinobi were still relatively innocent at the age of fourteen. It hadn’t been like that when he’d graduated. He could remember that much. By the time he’d been their age, his hands had been soaked in blood. War did that to people, Asuma knew that and he couldn’t wonder at when the other hand was going to fall.
Fourteen years of peace, he thought, glancing out the darkened window. Something had to give. It wasn’t as if it had been a steady peace, or a solid one. The treaty with Kumo-and the way they’d attempted to subvert it on the eve of the signing of it by kidnapping the Hyuuga Heir. The way that Oto had attacked, but even that there, the biggest attack they’d suffered in over a decade, besides the Uchiha massacre, and even that had not been much to the kids. They'd been to little, to removed to fully understand it.
Fuck, he thought, putting things together in his head and not liking what he was coming up with. We’re screwed if a war breaks out. On one hand, it was a good thing that they’d had peace for long. It had let the village grow, let them fix things after two wars in twenty years followed by Kyuubi attacking, and there were more active shinobi now than they’d had since before the wars had started. This peace had been long in coming and well used, but...
But, and this he knew well from having lived though it, it wasn’t the numbers that turned the tide in war. It was the soldiers, and he was going to have to spend a good bit of time contemplating just what could be done about the fact that they had kids more than soldiers.
He’d been there, when Kakashi had turned Iruka down flat. They are my soldiers now…
They weren’t though. Clever, sneaky, powerful - kids.
The only way to make a soldier, he knew, was through experience. Asuma lit his cigarette with no heed for the fact that this was against the regulations of the hotel, and puffed it as he leaned against the wall and stared out at the street below. There wasn't much to see, not in the dark, but it did help with the way he was feeling almost too constrained right that moment. He needed to stop thinking about this.
It wasn’t anything he could do about while on a mission. Making a note though to talk to Tsunade-sama when they got back, Asuma took a drag on his cigarette and let the nicotine help soothe his jitters. Perhaps he’d been in the wrong in reacting so strongly to Ino’s training and the mission. Fourteen years ago, kunoichi her age would be doing a mission like this with only a single shinobi, if that, for back up. None of this, we’ll have your team on hand, a watcher in the situation with you, and an ANBU team on the side to keep an even closer eye on your safety.
Though, he admitted, Ino was nearly the only Yamanaka they had left. That might be a factor in the over-protectiveness of what was, really, an over-abundance of defenders. And Yamanaka was an old clan, not a power like Hyuuga, or even the Akimichi and Nara, but an old clan nonetheless. They'd been around since the start of the village, one of the first to join the growing Konohagakure. But they’d always been happy to be on the outskirts, to be themselves, and not be overly bothered with running the village. Or with having large families. He'd have to check census data to make sure, but Asuma was almost certain that the Yamanaka Clan was one of the smallest, if not the smallest in the village. Only Uchiha had been smaller, and that was because of the massacre.
That might be it, he mused. Though, again, it was hard to say for sure. Yet another thing to ask the Hokage. Or perhaps, even to ask Yamanaka Inoichi. He’d probably have a better concept of why and how most Yamanaka only had one child a generation. A fertility issue? He shook his head, this was pointless to be worrying about right now.
There was a rap on the window, and Asuma snuffed out his cigarette while keeping the movement looking casual. The rap was repeated, the careful pattern that had been decided upon from the beginning of the mission. It wasn't either Shikamaru or Chouji. Nor was it Kotone. ANBU then, though it was being rapped out more painstakingly and slower than was ordinarily expected, which was a cause for concern, but he couldn’t deny the fact that it was the proper signal for being let in.
Asuma opened the window, stepping back, hands on his knives in the case of it coming to that. He hadn't been expecting, his thoughts more along the lines of an intruder who'd gotten the pattern from someone else, but it was Yuuta, ANBU mask askew, who came tumbling inside. The blue-haired man landed painfully on the soft carpet of the hotel, bleeding heavily.
He swore, shutting the window quickly and pulling the drapes, before he going to where the Yuuta was forcing himself into a seated position.
“Status?” Asuma said, scoping out the wounds and digging into his leg pouches for a blood replenisher and a general painkiller, while being relieved that, at least, on first glance, while the wounds bled heavily, the blood loss was the most life threatening thing. He could deal with blood loss. It was fixable. He offered the other man the pills, and his canteen to drink from.
Yuuta’s lips twisted, darkly amused as he reached for the pills, taking them and swallowing them with a grimace. “We’ve been had,” he said, working to strip off his armour and the all but skintight ANBU uniform with a scowl. “We’ve got agents down, and no fucking idea of what’s going on. Last call, the girl was flaring her chakra like an Academy student.”
Asuma was, all of a sudden, not feeling at all like a cigarette. “And her support?”
That got a half glare. “Unknown.”
Asuma was going to breathe in at that and shove his feelings away, this wasn’t the time to feel, this was the time to act. To work, to do something to get his student, still just a stupid kid, out of that situation. “How many agents down?” And his voice came out hard.
“At least two,” Yuuta said, as Asuma retrieved several rolls of bandages from the packs. “The others , if they’re alive, should be making their way here in the next few hours. As soon as they can and avoid detection at the same time."
He nodded, wrapping field bandages around the cuts on Yuuta’s legs. “Who’s down?” Asuma asked, knowing that it wouldn’t help. “I can’t remember their names.”
Yuuta just shook his head, lips compressing into a thin line, though whether that was in reaction to the pain or the question Asuma didn't know. “Later.”
Later, then, he could work with that. Too much information was just as bad as too little.
They'd just gotten the wounds fully bandaged, and Yuuta resting on the bed, fully awake and making plans, but not moving from where he was, and Asuma debating what to do with the blood in the carpet, when the door was rapped on carefully. Asuma doubted the proprietor would be pleased if they just left the blood. Awkward questions and all that.
He was striding over to the door, only pausing long enough to ascertain that the knock was in one of the patterns he'd taught them, and frowned upon realization of a third chakra signal out there. Were they being forced? He had a blade in hand when he opened the door, stepping back so he'd have room to maneuver if it came to that.
It didn't. Chouji had an ANBU, another injured man, half draped over his shoulders and Shikamaru's expression was shuttered and closed.
"Get inside," he said, hating what he was going to have to tell his students, "we've got trouble."
--
Previous Chapter // Chapter List // Next Chapter
Chapter: 09 Miscalculated
Author/Artist: Skylar Inari
Pairing: Yamanaka Ino/Nara Shikamaru
Theme: 37 - Training
Word Count: 8688
Disclaimer: Naruto doesn't belong to me. It's Kishimoto's and I just play with it. AU immediately after the Sasuke Retrieval Arc. Part 9 of ? Unbeta’d.
--
Shit, shit, shit. Her thoughts were racing, her mouth dry with pure fright, and Ino knew she had to say something, already the pause was going on too long, too long, surely, to protest her innocence and say anything that could help this.
Megumi-san’s voice, the memory of it, rang through her mind with the force of whirlwind as she slowly backed away from the shinobi. Stay in character!
In character, in character. Okay, she had to be able to do that. Had to. It wasn’t over yet, they might just be guessing, and judging her reaction. “K-Kunoichi,” she stammered, eyes wide, her best ‘you’ve got to be joking’ expression on her face, somewhere, under all the fright that was purely unfeigned, “me?”
Not the best, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Hopefully they’d take her long silence and backing away a natural reaction for a civilian to have. Ino didn’t think she’d ever hoped for anything so much before.
She couldn’t read their faces, couldn’t tell what they were thinking, all she could do was keep up the act. Her trembling wasn’t entirely fake, she was scared, make no mistake, there were four of them, only one of her, and she was so outclassed that it was nearly a miracle that she wasn’t dead just because they didn’t like what she looked like.
The shinobi glanced between themselves and she bit her lip, wanting to bolt, to fight, to do something other than just stand there and shake like the civilian girl she had to play. Hopefully, and that was the only thing she could do, was hope, that the look boded well for her.
Stay in character, stay in character...
She’d never hear the end of it, if she made it out alive, if she broke character now. Ino could imagine the comments about not being able to hold up under pressure. So, she let herself tremble, and shake and look as terrified as she felt because they were four Jounin and she was just one unarmed Genin and if those weren’t the worst odds ever she didn’t know what were.
“Grab her,” the first shinobi said, sounding bored. Ino couldn’t help the wish that that was a good sign, that he was bored because she was boring and just a civilian, but she couldn’t tell if she’d convinced him or not.
Either way, the shinobi behind her moved and it took everything that Ino had to fight like a civilian-all awkward kicking, flailing arms, and giving a short scream as she did so. It was pathetic, but it was meant to be. And the fear was very real, and very present.
Stay in character, stay in character...
It was awful letting herself go down, taken easily despite her ‘efforts’ to get free. But the more useless they thought her, the better her chances of surviving. She had to believe that as a sharp rap across the back of her head sent her spiraling down into unconsciousness.
Amaya-san, she thought fuzzily, before everything went black, I stayed in character...
--
No one needed so much ground, he decided, staring out at the expanse of carefully cultivated gardens and deliberately charming streams and ponds. But then, of course, perhaps if he was a daimyo he’d feel differently about that. Somehow, Yuuta doubted that. He’s a practical man, and none of this is practical. Just gilt and flash to distract the eye and impress those with less money to waste.
Not to mention the fact that it really did make it quite difficult for his team to adequately keep tabs on their mission.
The one thing to be grateful for, he thought, shifting slightly and soundlessly in the tree he has perched himself up in, is that it’s not raining. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s still wet though, but Yuuta is glad enough for small mercies after six hours up in the same tree. He’s had worse, the six months of guard duty through Kusa coming to mind, but the wet has sunken into his skin and bones by now and he’ll be glad enough when he can warm up.
He shifts again, frowning. He’s uneasy, but unsure why. It’s like an itch along the back of his spine, the worry he feels tonight. Nothing more to go on but a feeling, an instinct really-but he’d gotten to where he was by listening to his instincts. They’ve saved his life more than once.
He doesn’t know it but they’ll save his life again tonight.
The itch worsens not long before midnight and he spends a few moments, seconds really, wrestling with himself about waiting for his relief, before shaking his head. Utterly quiet, not even the creak of the white armour all ANBU wear, gives him away as he slides out of the tree, and quick as a flash makes for Hoshino’s position.
He knew something had gone wrong, with the mission, with her, before he reached her position. There was no mistaking the scent of blood in the air and he slowed, suppressing his chakra even further to keep anyone from sensing him if they hadn’t already, and mentally cursed his hesitation in moving from his post. If he’d moved earlier…
Then he might be dead too. Yuuta knew that, had no time for regrets now, the mission was falling to pieces around their ears and he had to salvage what he could. A quick check proved that, yes, Hoshino was dead. He lifted her dog tags, pocketing them, and left her where she lay. She was concealed enough for now, and he had the rest of his team to ascertain their whereabouts.
That, of course, would be when he felt their mission’s chakra flare wildly. He froze for a second, before fingers grabbed up his transmitter and flicked it on. Radio’s had their own risks, they could be tapped, and traced, but he had an agent dead on the ground and a Genin who was in way over her pretty little head to pull out of the mission.
Before he could speak there was a rustle in the grass. He flicked off the transmitter even as his eyes scanned the ground and Yuuta relaxed only slightly when he realized that he recognized the small furry shape that was darting towards him.
Kneeling in the grass, he held out his hand so that the tiny mouse could skitter into his palm. “Dai,” Yuuta said, standing and ducking into the cover of one of the mostly ornamental trees that adorned the garden, his voice so quiet that it barely even would count as a whisper, “what’s going on? And keep it quiet.” Kotone wouldn’t have sent the mouse just for a basic report. It was with barely a thought that he sent a smidge of chakra to his ears to enhance their hearing. He’d need it, with a mouse speaking quietly.
He felt, rather than saw, the distressed twitch of whiskers that query gained him.
“Blood,” the mouse said, radiating distress, “You smell of blood.”
Yuuta fought back a sigh. “It’s not mine,” he said, giving Dai a reassuring pat. “Report.”
He supposed that he couldn’t get too irritated with Kotone for not sending a mouse that was better suited to battle, considering the restraints she was under, but that did not stop him from sparing the seconds it took the little guy to gather his thoughts to wish for it.
Dai stood on his hind legs, and Yuuta could see the faint hint of the white fur patterned in the symbol of Konoha, a little leaf, on the mouse’s belly. “Kotone-sama is ordering a code blue,” came the chittering answer, and before Yuuta could draw breath, rattled on into the finer details of the report.
As he listened, Yuuta’s heart sank. It wasn’t a good report, though it gave him a better idea of just what had gone horribly wrong. No wonder then that already he’d lost one agent, and if his guess was right, he might have lost several more.
“Dai,” his voice, if anything, was even quieter than before, “how quickly can you get back to Kotone?”
“Minutes,” came the squeak, “easier to return.”
“Good,” he said, “that’s good. I need you to get back to her and tell her that we’ve got a code red on our hands and agents down.” That got a chitter of dismay. “We’re pulling out, effective immediately. Meet up at point A. If she can’t get out, then she’s to keep the chit alive until we can get the both of them out. Understood?”
Dai nodded, though it was more of a bob of the head than a nod, and rattled the message back at him, word-for-word.
“Go,” Yuuta said, setting the mouse down on the grass. “Quickly.”
Dai gave an affirmative squeak, and was gone so quickly that Yuuta lost track of the little guy between one blink of the eye and another. Before he even paused to take another look around, he was speaking into his radio, telling the rest of his team, to get out and get out fast.
“Found him,” a voice he didn’t recognize said, just as he’d finished with his orders to his team, and the voice was soft enough that he could tell that had he not had chakra enhancing his hearing he wouldn’t have been able to catch it. Instinct sent him rolling across the ground, a kunai flying over-head as the enemy shinobi swore.
He got to his feet, still moving, always moving, and caught a glimpse of his attacker. No hitae-ate, he registered, but moving like a Jounin. That would have been worse had he been planning to stay and fight.
Right now though, Yuuta had more important things to do than fight. He had to get out of here, and regroup. Kei hadn’t answered the radio. Shimako and Kobayashi had. Down at least two, no guarantee that the rest of them would get out alive…
Yuuta flung a kunai back at his attacker, smirking slightly as the other was caught unaware by the smoke tag attached to the hilt-and, while the smoke billowed out, obscuring the immediate area, Yuuta ran.
Being a good ANBU meant that you were deadly, used to danger, and excellent at judging the odds. Yuuta had been in ANBU for three years already, which was longer than most. This scenario, he knew, would help no one if he stayed and fought right now.
There was a different sort of pride in knowing when to cut your losses and get out, no matter what the situation.
A kunai whistled past his ear, and his grin tightened. He’d get out of this alive, not because he was strong, or because he was clever-though skill had him admitting that he was both rather strong and clever, all things considered. False modesty had no place inside your own head, after all.
Yuuta ran.
--
Sweat beaded down her spine, a compliment to the way it was soaking the band she had in her hair to keep it from her eyes. There was a fine trembling in her arms-they were unaccustomed to the weight of this weapon, and she was still building the strength to use it for long periods of time. Her breathing was rough in her throat and she knew that sooner, rather than later, she would have to take a break, cool down, shower, then go and meet up with her team for their training session with Gai-sensei.
Tenten was also aware that it could, in some lights, be considered madness to be training so hard before subjecting herself to her sensei. No one would ever call him an easy one, despite his… eccentricities.
After her utterly humiliating defeat in the preliminaries of the Chuunin Exam Tenten had taken a good, long and hard look at her weapons arsenal and had come up with the undeniable fact that she’d been a fool to not have notice her most blatant weakness before. Yes, as a girl, she knew that the long range weapons were easier to handle-they were, after all, made to be light enough to carry many, to throw, and not many people could do that with the heavier weapons.
But that didn’t change the fact that it was up to her to shore up that weakness the best she could. She’d gotten spoiled, a bit, by the fact that between Lee and Neji she seldom had to close in and fight close-range. And, sure enough, the both of them were better than she was at it, but that didn’t mean she had had to have been so neglectful of it. Which she had been, and couldn’t blame on anyone else. In a way, Tenten supposed, she should be glad of the fact that her lesson had come in a relatively controlled environment and not out in the field.
She almost absently corrected her footwork, and swung the mace in the controlled arc she was learning, before dipping and spinning with it. The effort it took so that the heavier weapon did not throw her off balance was exhausting, but she took pride in the fact that it took less now than it had when she’d first started. And she did like the mace, it felt more comfortable to her hand than a hammer, and though the flail was more comfortable than the mace, the entire point of this was to get in close and dirty.
A flail, after all, was still too long range. She’d made a note to learn it though, once she’d gotten proficient enough for her tastes with the mace. Going, though, from how heavy she still found it, that’d be awhile.
Focusing on her practice again, just a little bit longer she promised herself, Tenten lost track of time until the sound of familiar footsteps brought her out of it. She grimaced, having not wanted to have her training become commonly known until she was slightly better at it-it didn’t effect missions as of yet because she wasn’t carrying it with her.
“What is it Lee?” she called, upon hearing the footsteps pause outside the room. “It’s late.”
“I am sorry, Tenten-san,” he said, sliding the door open and sounding far too awake for her liking considering the time of night. “It was not my decision to come and disturb you so far past reasonable hours.”
She waited for him, while she finished the move she was on and moved to the next one. Just one more and then she'd cool down for the night. No point in rushing things in an attempt to hide them now, there was no way it would escape his notice.
“A new weapon?” he asked, grinning. “Aha! So your will burns brightly in the secret hours.”
Finishing her last exercise with the mace, she set it in the rack on the side of the room and falling into her cool down exercises. That got a laugh out of her though, she quickly added spoke though to get rid of the momentary flash of hurt on Lee’s face. “A new weapon,” Tenten agreed. “Close range, which is different. I'm expanding my repertoire.”
Lee was many things but he wasn’t stupid. “Since the Chuunin preliminaries?”
“About that long,” she agreed. “Couldn’t just let myself stay with a weakness like that, you know? After all, I won’t always have you and Neji around to do the close range fighting while I pelt them from afar.”
“As long as there was breath in my body I would do my best!” Lee told her.
“I know,” by now, after two years, she understood him better than most and that was sweet of him to say, “but we won’t always be sent on the same missions. So I’ve got to get stronger.”
He nodded, eyes serious though his grin all but gleamed in the light of the lanterns that she’d put up. “Admirable! But why not in practices yet?”
She flushed a bit. “I will,” Tenten promised, “I just wanted to learn the basics on my own first before bringing it into practice. I’m not good enough yet to take it with us on missions so I’d rather not waste time when we could be working on something that is useful.”
Another nod and Lee fell down beside her to work on cool down stretches with her, though he hadn’t, as far as she knew, been doing anything strenuous. “We will help fan the flames of your youth, surely, Tenten.”
And that was something she found special. “I know,” she said, ducking her head as she reached for her ankle, “but I needed to fan them first on my own.”
“How long until you think you'll bring it to Gai-sensei?” Lee asked, as she started on her arm stretches next.
Tenten thought about that. “I'm not sure,” she caught sight of his face, and sighed. “I wasn’t lying, Lee. It’s just something I’ve been doing on my own. It’s still too heavy for me to use effectively.”
He perked up, and she knew that boded for much pain on her part in the near future. “Then I, and no other, will help you gain strength enough to swing it without ever breaking a sweat.”
And from the way he was looking hopefully at her, she couldn’t say no. “Alright,” Tenten said, and his smile was like the sun coming up.
They continued stretching, in comfortable silence, for another few minutes before Tenten asked suddenly, “Why were you looking for me anyway, Lee?”
“Gai-sensei says we have a mission,” came the answer, and Tenten didn’t have time enough to draw breath to berate him for not telling her right away when he continued with, “we leave at two.” Unspoken was the obvious fact that they’d be leaving at two in the morning. She glanced sidelong at the clock. Almost one. It wasn’t surprising, really, that he’d not been in a rush to say anything. They had the time.
“I’m going for a shower,” Tenten said, finishing her last stretch. “I’ll be back in fifteen. Keep a watch out here, will you?”
He promised and she darted from the room.
--
If chakra could be seen in colour then she’d classify Ino-kun’s as a vibrant, pulsing electric blue. A colour that was more than a match for those blue eyes that mimicked the bluest summer skies. Hers, Megumi supposed, she’d classify more as a mauve. Older, wiser, and more ingrained in how to react.
Ino-kun’s chakra, though she could not see it, was by now a rather comfortable hum in the back of her head as she kept track of her charge. And rolled her eyes when Ino-kun decided upon an extra-long bath. Though, rather, it was the thing an ordinary girl might do as well. Megumi rather thought that she’d let it slide this time.
She’d just set down her hairbrush, and been moving to air out the futons when Ino-kun’s chakra flickered wildly.
Megumi knew that she didn’t have much time. If Ino-kun had been captured then no doubt they’d come for her next. She could only base her reactions, though, on the way that Ino-kun had been taken. If she had, after all, managed to get taken as merely a civilian, then things were still dire, but not nearly so badly.
And if she’d been taken as a kunoichi, then things would be quite a lot messier. If Ino-kun wasn’t killed outright, then that would mean torture and interrogation, and she doubted that a Genin, however skilled Ino-kun was at certain things, could withstand that for long. ANBU agents had training to resist such techniques.
Rather than go and race for Ino-kun, Megumi forced herself to continue as if she had nothing on her mind but getting ready for bed, continuing to air out the blankets, and even going so far as to brush her teeth while she stretched her senses to try and analyze the link to Ino-kun’s chakra.
Flaring for a few minutes then, abruptly, the flare disappeared and she had a split second of fearing the worst before she realized that, yes, Ino-kun’s signature was still there, merely subdued. Likely, she thought, Ino-kun was unconscious. Better than dead, though that did not help her to make her own move.
To be entirely honest though, there were not so many moves that she could make. That was the largest problem with missions like this-never enough information and always too much time spend simply weighing options and knowing that, if nothing else, cover had to be held. It was the best, and in this case, nearly the only weapon she had besides her body.
Taijutsu was a strong point of hers, after all. It was one of the things that made the Hokage order her on so many missions where other weapons weren’t feasible. Like this one, she had a few pins, a few needles-all of them, though, were precisely the same as any other servant on the floor. Every woman needed pins for her hair, after all, and you could hardly be a household servant if you could not sew with more than passing fairness. Her brain then, and her body.
And chakra, of course, but that wasn’t something she’d use here unless it was necessary to break cover entirely. It wasn’t unheard of, after all, for a woman-especially a parentless one like their cover story had stated-to have some small skill in the martial arts.
Maintaining her own cover, now that she knew that Ino-kun had not been killed outright, was the first order of business though, and Megumi had confidence in that. The picture of pure ease, the movements of a servant who was tired, who wished to sleep, but nonetheless was staying up to wait for a younger sister, she settled herself on the edge of her futon, brushing her hair once more. A blanket, carelessly draped over her feet, added to the image, and now all she could do was wait and see. And plan the words she would like to have with Hokage-sama if they all made it out of this. On a mission like this, security and Intel ought to have been more thorough.
It wasn’t that long, no more than a few minutes, though ever second stretched out almost painfully in her head as she kept her body in a state of hyper awareness, before she heard something that she had not expected.
The soft squeaking that heralded the arrival of one of her summons-and the only one she had out and active was Dai-chan. Megumi didn’t flinch, and wasn’t surprised when a few seconds later, there was the scrabbling of little paws and the press of a cold nose against her ankle. The tug of fabric as Dai wriggled his way up to her lap likewise provoked no reaction other than to lean over and more firmly drape a blanket around her, looking for all the world as if she was merely cold.
She didn’t know if anyone was watching her at the moment or not-but it was better to assume that there were observers and to stay in role. That was the key during an undercover mission. Don’t break the role, ever. Not even for a second because someone, the chances were, would notice and then you’d be inviting trouble.
Dai eventually made his way up to her shoulder, completely hidden by her hair, and Megumi didn’t speak, just waited for him to tell her what Yuuta wanted.
“Code red,” Dai-chan said, his whiskers brushing against her neck. “Meet up at point A. He’s got agents down.”
Her blood ran cold. That, then, was more than a simple slip that Ino-kun had made where she might have been seen by one of the shinobi guarding the daimyo. This had been coordinated, and that made it that much less likely that they were to live. But Ino-kun was still alive, she reminded herself, and so, she couldn’t run. Not until she knew for certain what the situation they’d found themselves in was.
If they knew for sure that Ino-kun was a kunoichi, after all, then it might be better for her to run, and hope she could extract her before anything too traumatic happened. As it was though, she just listened as Dai-chan went on detailing what had gone on. Agents down… that was bad. Even worse was the fact that he’d not said a number. That meant he didn’t know, and she could only hope that the whole team hadn’t been taken out. Konoha couldn’t afford to lose more shinobi. Not so soon after Oto had attacked.
“Head to that point then,” she murmured, deciding that the risk was worth it, “tell them we’ll come if we can.”
She doubted it though, not from the way Ino-kun’s chakra had flared so wildly, then been quieted. That earned her another press of a cold mouse nose against her neck, and then she was silent as Dai made his way down her body and squirming back under the floorboards.
It wasn’t long after that, that a knock sounded on her door.
She waited a minute, knowing it would look no good to go for the door quickly when she was supposed to just be waiting for a sister who was taking longer than she’d promised in the baths. When she did get up, setting the blanket aside, and answered the door, sliding it open. She did so and started talking before, really, she (as Megumi) ought to have noticed anything amiss.
“Junko-chan, geez,” she said, sounding exasperated, “you were supposed to be back ages ago. What were you thinking, making your sister worry-“ her voice trailed off in a squeak of dismay as ‘Megumi’ noticed what was up with ‘Junko’.
For her part, as herself, and not as anyone else, she was relieved to see that yes, Ino-kun was unconscious and slung over the shoulders of one of the nin, wet brown hair soaking into his shoulder. She didn’t look injured beyond a few bruises. That much, at least, she could be glad for.
“Junko-chan!” Megumi cried, moving to go to her sister. “What happened to her? Did she faint from the baths?”
She felt, rather than saw, the looks the shinobi were giving each other over her head. Inwardly she smiled, though she was outwardly all solicitous in urging them into the room, thanking them profusely for bringing Junko back to her, and wouldn’t they like a cup of tea? Megumi fussed about, knowing that every inch of doubt she could plant in their minds about them actually being shinobi was an inch of doubt that would help keep them alive longer.
As they accepted tea, though she noted that they glanced at who had to be the commander (a tall, dark-skinned shinobi with deep green hair) for confirmation before taking it. She pretended to not see the way one of them was scoping out the room, checking for weapons-and here, she was glad that they’d find none, no matter how long they looked-and equally seemed to remain clueless about how only one of them actually drank the tea.
In case of poison, she knew. It wouldn’t do for an entire team to go down just because they were all stupid enough to drink the same thing from the same source. She smiled encouragingly and sipped at her own tea, noting how they relaxed slightly at that, before moving over to fuss over Ino-kun, stealthily checking for any less obvious injuries and openly bemoaning the foolishness of little sisters that spent so long in hot water that they over heated and fainted.
If she’d been an ordinary woman, then the slightest prick of the tip of a needle to the back of her neck would have gone unnoticed and she’d have tumbled into unconsciousness without ever realizing what had caused it.
As it was, she registered the needle, and even she let herself be taken by darkness, Megumi thought that was a good sign, all things considered. Gentle, then. They weren’t sure about their identities now, and Ino-kun had managed well enough on her own to further that doubt.
Gentle, but dark.
--
He was walking down the hall of an apartment building and considering it thoughtfully. He knew good and well that Anko was more than capable of affording a nicer place (though this one wasn't bad, not by any stretch of the imagination), and he also knew that not even Kurenai, who was in all senses of the word but for blood, Anko’s ‘big sister’ had not even tried to get the other kunoichi to consider the possibility of moving.
Ibiki thought about that as he slowly went up the stairs. No big deal, not really, just an idle thought. For all he knew, Anko liked saving a lot of her money. Or spending it all on booze. No elevators though this apartment had them, just stairs and that was good enough. He knew that in some of the bigger cities more and more places were adding in elevators-expensive things, those, and stupid for shinobi--it made anyone in them a sitting duck if you could gain control of the elevator, and that was easy enough with the right knowledge. He wasn't going to take that chance, even in the middle of Konoha. No one saw him, and even if they had they wouldn’t have recognized him, though they'd have known exactly what he was.
This night, he went not as Ibiki, who was Anko’s friend in some sense of the word, but rather as Morino Ibiki, Captain of ANBU’s Torture and Interrogation Department. It was rare enough for him to do this, but then, he’d offered because Anko was hardly likely to be happy and he knew her better than many.
Wearing the white armour, the black uniform, the cloak, and most importantly the mask, Ibiki wasn’t recognizable unless you knew that the spider on his mask was his. Very few did. He rarely went out on missions away from the city these days, spending more time dealing with those who were brought in for interrogation.
Anko would know it though. He rapped sharply on the door of apartment three seventeen and watched as the door wobbled from the force of it. That was just pathetic, he hadn't even been trying. It was ridiculously loose. He wondered if she'd even thought to complain to the landlord.
The door was flung open, Anko naked as the day she was born was there and snarling, “Do you know what time it is?” Then she paused and took a good long look at him, and what he was wearing, and the casual anger in her eyes faded into something harder and brittle.
Her voice, when she next spoke, was flat and cold. “Get inside.”
He obeyed; making sure that the door was shut behind him and watched while Anko tossed her jacket over her nakedness. More out of form than anything else, he knew. She wasn't body shy.
She scowled at him. “You going to take that mask off, Ibiki?”
That got a low, deep chuckle out of him and he pushed it up so that it was perched on his forehead. “Woke you up?”
“Just got in from a night out,” she said, shrugging. “Hadn’t gotten to sleep yet, was trying. What’s with the uniform?”
In response he pulled a white mask out from under his cloak, this one with a snake on it, and tossed it at her. She caught it automatically, he could tell, there was no thinking behind the movement. Anko stared at him, almost expressionless. “Mitarashi Anko, Ninja Registration No.: 011226, you are hereby recalled into ANBU’s service.” Ibiki looked at her, almost compassionately. “Effective immediately.”
“I got out of that hell hole years ago,” she said blankly, turning the mask over in her hands, “and you’re calling me back?”
“The scarlet spiral is a lifelong commitment,” he answered her, “and he made the decision to end your vacation.”
“And you came to tell me.”
“I offered.” He wasn’t looking at her, Ibiki knew that tone of voice, looking at her would net him pain. “It was the least I could do. Give you someone you know to yell at.”
“Yell at,” and that got a bark of a laugh, “but I can’t turn this down, can I?”
A long, slow shake of his head. She swore and he couldn’t blame her. “They mentioned something about that," she muttered, "first time in, and I didn’t pay attention. How often does this happen, Ibiki? Can you tell me that?”
“Not all that often,” he told her. “We’re not that cruel to shinobi that have already done their duty in it, and managed to leave alive. But right now, we need the people, and we need them to have more skill than the wet-behind-the-ears rookies that we’re getting-and we’re not getting enough of them either. Peace has made us soft. We’ve lost nearly every rookie in the last five years within the first eight months. People aren’t prepared for thinking or acting the way ANBU needs.”
She wasn’t looking at him now, instead trying the mask on again. “Downside of peace,” Anko said, with the mask on. “You lose the edge of war.”
Ibiki nodded. “You’re not the first shinobi we’ve recalled, and you’re not going to be the last. There’s agents going out tonight and giving people the news.” ANBU was going to be real unpopular for that move, but Tsunade-sama had approved of the request and authorized the recalls.
“We’re that bad off?”
“So far,” he said, a deep rumble, “it’s primarily precaution. We need the money for repairs, but there’s rumours of a war brewing and Konoha being the one it’s directed at.”
“There’s always rumours.”
“But they’re not always accompanied by deaths.”
“Shit,” Anko murmured. “Well, fuck. You need me right this second?”
“Hiromasa wants to talk to you.”
She nodded, getting up and leaving her coat behind as she slipped into what he assumed was her bedroom and coming back out in her mesh dress with sandals on her feet. It was the work of seconds to get her hair under control, he didn't even have time to get bored, and then she was looking at him while swinging her coat back on and tucking the mask into it. He didn't ask how she managed to keep the mask from falling there. They'd have to get her properly outfitted at Headquarters.
Ibiki cracked a smile, but didn't share his thoughts. Being back in ANBU meant Anko would be wearing more clothing than she'd been for years.
“Let’s go."
--
The streets were slowly drying, water still in puddles where the roads had dips in them and the ground was still quite wet, he just could just from walking on it and feeling the squish of it under his feet. Chouji wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sigh over the fact that he was contemplating how long it would take to dry (would it even get a real chance to fully dry considering the winter rains?) rather than listen to Shikamaru repeat himself again.
It was well known that, of the three of them, Chouji had the most patience. Ino had it when she had to, when she was focused on a goal... well, then, she could outwait anyone. Shikamaru could when he was planning, when there was something to plan on. Neither of them, though, had the sort of patience that let him listen to Shikamaru, who’d been on variations of the same theme for days and not give into the urge to knock him out.
He realized that Shikamaru had paused, and tilted her head curiously at him while scanning the area-they were in a park, a small one, with a few scattered benches and some attempt at a playground for the kids-and he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary other than the fact that this was, technically, slightly closer to the Daimyo’s mansion than Asuma-sensei had said they were to go.
Of course, Chouji thought, Asuma-sensei did not have to patrol with Shikamaru for half the day. He thought that just that small amount would be ignorable on the report they’d have to do when they got back, with a quick stop to pick up dinner, on the way. If there was something up though...
“What is it?” Chouji asked, watching the area more than Shikamaru. One look at his friend’s face said that this was more than just annoyance at the whole situation, and he shifted his awareness up a notch.
“Something’s wrong,” came the muttered answer, “the moment we walked into the park my shadow started acting up.”
Chouji sighed then, glancing sidelong at Shikamaru. “It’s been acting up since we left Konoha,” he didn’t wait to hear what Shikamaru would have to say to that, “and no wonder, you’re midway through working on-“
“That’s not it,” Shikamaru interrupted sharply. “It’s not. I know what that feels like, and this is different.”
He fell silent for a few seconds then, before replying to that. “Different dangerous?” Chouji asked, giving his friend the benefit of the doubt.
That got a half laugh, half snort, and the dry response, “Everything different is dangerous.”
Well, and true enough. Chouji wasn’t pleased with that though. “Different how? We’re not even supposed to be here-“
“It’s a park.”
“-and you know good and well that Asuma-sensei didn’t want us in this area. It’s too close to-“
“I’m going to go look,” Shikamaru said, stalking off towards, and here Chouji’s heart sank further, towards the Daimyo’s lands. “Come or not.”
There really was only one answer to that, he thought with dismay. It wasn’t like he’d ever be able to just... let his friend walk right into danger (potential danger, he reminded himself) when he could go with him and help. No choice was a good one and Chouji bit back a curse as he followed after Shikamaru.
“You,” Chouji murmured as he caught up, “if this turns out to be a false alarm, then you get to tell Asuma-sensei why we disobeyed his orders.” Shikamaru nodded, and Chouji was going to take that as assent. There was no question of that. Chouji was not going to take the blame for this, if they found nothing.
If they did find something, and it was useful, then that was a different matter. Though it didn’t change the fact that they’d disobeyed orders.
The woods were quiet, this late at night it was a bit surprising, even in the village this size, there should have been more animals making noise. Of course, Chouji thought, it could just be that they were silent because of them, and that proved nothing.
He followed Shikamaru, just far enough behind that should something attack his friend he’d be able to do something about it. For now though, there was nothing, and the woods, though quiet, didn’t seem threatening. It wasn’t much of a wood, really, just the area between the park and the Daimyo’s garden, and that had been left with the trees intact as it made little sense to cut them down.
“Weird,” he murmured, mostly to himself as they leapt over the waist-high wall that marked the end of the park and into the gardens. Shikamaru glanced at him. “No guards.”
And both of them knew that there should have been. The area was quiet, mostly devoid of any noise from night birds and other animals, but that didn’t mean that much. For all they knew, it could be quiet because they were there. That was as likely as anything.
Chouji, slowly was starting to think that maybe there was really something going on rather than it all being just in Shikamaru’s head. Admittedly, the distinct lack of guards had helped a great deal in that regard.
The second sign that something was several branches that had been broken, and the sharp scent of blood. He wasn’t an Inuzuka, but Akimichi had excellent senses of smell all things considered and he shook his head, even as Shikamaru tugged out a kunai. “It’s fresh.”
How fresh, exactly, was hard to say in the dark, but there was no mistaking that smell, and the fact that it was even there meant...
“We should pull out,” he said, and was unsurprised to see Shikamaru shake his head in the dark. Well, enough. Chouji hadn’t really expected that he’d be listened to, but really, he felt that if they were going to get into a bad situation then he might as well be the voice of reason-so he could say I told you so when it all fell to pieces.
For all their preparation and alertness though, they almost didn’t see the wounded ANBU. Shikamaru noticed him first and they both went quickly to him.
“What are ANBU doing here?” Shikamaru hissed, as they reached the man’s side. Chouji just shrugged. He didn’t know, but it didn’t bode well.
“Sarutobi’s brats,” the man said, and behind his mask they couldn’t see his expression. His voice, though, was easy enough to read and he was displeased.
Chouji frowned, even as Shikamaru demanded to know how the ANBU knew who they were, and scanned the area, hair-raising on the back of his neck.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, overriding Shikamaru. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
He didn’t need light to see the fact that Shikamaru was annoyed. “Whoever attacked is still around,” Chouji said, before Shikamaru could say anything. “If we want to be any use to Ino, we’ve got to get out of here, and get him to medical attention.”
That got a rough bark of a laugh from the ANBU. “Good thinking, even better. Code Red’s been called, we’re to get our asses out of here.”
It was normally Shikamaru in charge of planning and missions. It was Shikamaru that was the Chuunin, and it was Shikamaru that should’ve thought of getting out of here the moment they’d found more than the ghost of trouble.
It was Chouji, though, who helped the ANBU up. And Chouji who led the way out of the woods.
Shikamaru, for once, followed him.
--
Asuma was pacing, and fingering a cigarette though he’d not lit it quite yet, and wished once again that he could put his fingers on what was unsettling him tonight. At the very least, he was glad enough that he’d ordered the boys out to patrol the area again, and so he didn’t have to continue to act as a mediator between the two of them. He wasn’t sure what sort of disagreement they were having now, but it didn’t seem like anything that was going to effect the mission, so he’d let it slide for another day or so before making them deal with it and put it to rest. Teenagers.
It was six long steps from one end of the room to the other. Asuma turned upon hitting as far as he could go and started back the other way while tossing a cigarette up in the air as he went. Catching it easily, he debated lighting it. Unable to decide, for the moment, he tossed it into the air again. He could only hope that the decision to smoke, or not smoke, a cigarette would be the hardest one he'd have to make this mission.
Teenagers, that was just it. Still just stupid kids, though they were trying. Asuma wondered if that was something to be proud of, or not. Konoha, under the rule of the Third, had managed enough peace, for long enough, that their shinobi were still relatively innocent at the age of fourteen. It hadn’t been like that when he’d graduated. He could remember that much. By the time he’d been their age, his hands had been soaked in blood. War did that to people, Asuma knew that and he couldn’t wonder at when the other hand was going to fall.
Fourteen years of peace, he thought, glancing out the darkened window. Something had to give. It wasn’t as if it had been a steady peace, or a solid one. The treaty with Kumo-and the way they’d attempted to subvert it on the eve of the signing of it by kidnapping the Hyuuga Heir. The way that Oto had attacked, but even that there, the biggest attack they’d suffered in over a decade, besides the Uchiha massacre, and even that had not been much to the kids. They'd been to little, to removed to fully understand it.
Fuck, he thought, putting things together in his head and not liking what he was coming up with. We’re screwed if a war breaks out. On one hand, it was a good thing that they’d had peace for long. It had let the village grow, let them fix things after two wars in twenty years followed by Kyuubi attacking, and there were more active shinobi now than they’d had since before the wars had started. This peace had been long in coming and well used, but...
But, and this he knew well from having lived though it, it wasn’t the numbers that turned the tide in war. It was the soldiers, and he was going to have to spend a good bit of time contemplating just what could be done about the fact that they had kids more than soldiers.
He’d been there, when Kakashi had turned Iruka down flat. They are my soldiers now…
They weren’t though. Clever, sneaky, powerful - kids.
The only way to make a soldier, he knew, was through experience. Asuma lit his cigarette with no heed for the fact that this was against the regulations of the hotel, and puffed it as he leaned against the wall and stared out at the street below. There wasn't much to see, not in the dark, but it did help with the way he was feeling almost too constrained right that moment. He needed to stop thinking about this.
It wasn’t anything he could do about while on a mission. Making a note though to talk to Tsunade-sama when they got back, Asuma took a drag on his cigarette and let the nicotine help soothe his jitters. Perhaps he’d been in the wrong in reacting so strongly to Ino’s training and the mission. Fourteen years ago, kunoichi her age would be doing a mission like this with only a single shinobi, if that, for back up. None of this, we’ll have your team on hand, a watcher in the situation with you, and an ANBU team on the side to keep an even closer eye on your safety.
Though, he admitted, Ino was nearly the only Yamanaka they had left. That might be a factor in the over-protectiveness of what was, really, an over-abundance of defenders. And Yamanaka was an old clan, not a power like Hyuuga, or even the Akimichi and Nara, but an old clan nonetheless. They'd been around since the start of the village, one of the first to join the growing Konohagakure. But they’d always been happy to be on the outskirts, to be themselves, and not be overly bothered with running the village. Or with having large families. He'd have to check census data to make sure, but Asuma was almost certain that the Yamanaka Clan was one of the smallest, if not the smallest in the village. Only Uchiha had been smaller, and that was because of the massacre.
That might be it, he mused. Though, again, it was hard to say for sure. Yet another thing to ask the Hokage. Or perhaps, even to ask Yamanaka Inoichi. He’d probably have a better concept of why and how most Yamanaka only had one child a generation. A fertility issue? He shook his head, this was pointless to be worrying about right now.
There was a rap on the window, and Asuma snuffed out his cigarette while keeping the movement looking casual. The rap was repeated, the careful pattern that had been decided upon from the beginning of the mission. It wasn't either Shikamaru or Chouji. Nor was it Kotone. ANBU then, though it was being rapped out more painstakingly and slower than was ordinarily expected, which was a cause for concern, but he couldn’t deny the fact that it was the proper signal for being let in.
Asuma opened the window, stepping back, hands on his knives in the case of it coming to that. He hadn't been expecting, his thoughts more along the lines of an intruder who'd gotten the pattern from someone else, but it was Yuuta, ANBU mask askew, who came tumbling inside. The blue-haired man landed painfully on the soft carpet of the hotel, bleeding heavily.
He swore, shutting the window quickly and pulling the drapes, before he going to where the Yuuta was forcing himself into a seated position.
“Status?” Asuma said, scoping out the wounds and digging into his leg pouches for a blood replenisher and a general painkiller, while being relieved that, at least, on first glance, while the wounds bled heavily, the blood loss was the most life threatening thing. He could deal with blood loss. It was fixable. He offered the other man the pills, and his canteen to drink from.
Yuuta’s lips twisted, darkly amused as he reached for the pills, taking them and swallowing them with a grimace. “We’ve been had,” he said, working to strip off his armour and the all but skintight ANBU uniform with a scowl. “We’ve got agents down, and no fucking idea of what’s going on. Last call, the girl was flaring her chakra like an Academy student.”
Asuma was, all of a sudden, not feeling at all like a cigarette. “And her support?”
That got a half glare. “Unknown.”
Asuma was going to breathe in at that and shove his feelings away, this wasn’t the time to feel, this was the time to act. To work, to do something to get his student, still just a stupid kid, out of that situation. “How many agents down?” And his voice came out hard.
“At least two,” Yuuta said, as Asuma retrieved several rolls of bandages from the packs. “The others , if they’re alive, should be making their way here in the next few hours. As soon as they can and avoid detection at the same time."
He nodded, wrapping field bandages around the cuts on Yuuta’s legs. “Who’s down?” Asuma asked, knowing that it wouldn’t help. “I can’t remember their names.”
Yuuta just shook his head, lips compressing into a thin line, though whether that was in reaction to the pain or the question Asuma didn't know. “Later.”
Later, then, he could work with that. Too much information was just as bad as too little.
They'd just gotten the wounds fully bandaged, and Yuuta resting on the bed, fully awake and making plans, but not moving from where he was, and Asuma debating what to do with the blood in the carpet, when the door was rapped on carefully. Asuma doubted the proprietor would be pleased if they just left the blood. Awkward questions and all that.
He was striding over to the door, only pausing long enough to ascertain that the knock was in one of the patterns he'd taught them, and frowned upon realization of a third chakra signal out there. Were they being forced? He had a blade in hand when he opened the door, stepping back so he'd have room to maneuver if it came to that.
It didn't. Chouji had an ANBU, another injured man, half draped over his shoulders and Shikamaru's expression was shuttered and closed.
"Get inside," he said, hating what he was going to have to tell his students, "we've got trouble."
--
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