Chapter 4: First Day

[anbu_chick]

Yuugao didn't sleep well the night before ANBU Hunter Orientation was to begin. It had been another unseasonably warm day, and was almost an unbearably warm night; she was sweat-drenched and tangled in sheets when she woke after a few hours of restive sleep. By then it was nearly six o'clock. She gave up the attempt to sleep, and headed for the shower. Twenty minutes of warm water left her feeling much better-tempered, if not much less tense. She focused extra time and concentration on drying and brushing her hair, hoping the familiar task would calm her nerves. It didn't seem to help the small animals in her stomach much, but at least her hair was sleek and shining when she finally left the bathroom in search of clothes and breakfast.

The short, official notice had mentioned only to bring necessary gear. She didn't know exactly what that entailed, but she'd spent most of the previous afternoon checking every item in her shuriken holster and hip pouch, sharpening kunai to razor edges, replenishing low stocks of bandages and explosive tags, arranging shuriken to come easily to groping fingers. It took only a few seconds to dress in the modified uniform she typically wore on missions: mesh shirt over her breast-bindings, dark blue shorts, a hip-length sleeveless overshirt belted at the waist with a sash that could easily double for a garrote. It was seven-thirty by the time she finished fastening her shuriken-holster to her right leg, and she spared only a few minutes for toast and jam in her little kitchen before she double-checked her gear, tucked her dog-tags under her shirt and her papers into her hip-pouch, tugged on her sandals, and headed out the door.

By this time of morning, Konoha was already alive and bustling. A few Academy children raced by, late on their way to school; an old man wheeling his barrow of tomatoes to market called a cheerful greeting. Birds darted overhead, and a fresh breeze brought a little relief to what promised to be another oppressively hot day. Yuugao took a deep breath of the clear morning air and wished her stomach would stop its nervous knotting. She'd already passed; she was already (almost) officially a member of ANBU. What did she have to fear?

...Well, quite a lot, actually, and it only started with the prospect of spending the day with an unknown number of the other rookies--several of whom had made it clear, in the early trials, that they hadn't expected women to apply and certainly didn't expect any to make the cut.

Perhaps they'd been cut, instead. That thought was a great deal more cheering. Yuugao was nearly smiling when she reached the barred gate of the ANBU complex. Then she recognized the man approaching from the other direction, and the near-smile died along with her luck.

"You made it?" That was shocked horror if she'd ever heard it, coming from a dark-haired young jounin with an expression like someone smelling bad eggs. "Good gods, I didn't think they'd actually--"

Yuugao desperately wished she could say the same; but as she recalled, Yonda Daisuke had acquitted himself well in the exams. It was no surprise they'd let him in. A lifetime of disreputable friendship with Izumo and Kotetsu had half a dozen more-or-less biting retorts springing to her tongue, all the same. She restrained herself with an effort--she couldn't afford to start out on a bad foot, even if he was willing to make a fool of himself--and said merely, "Good morning to you, too, Yonda-san. Your shuriken-holster's coming undone."

"Huh?" He glanced down, taken aback. By the time he was looking up again in argument, she was already through the gate.

Two other rookies were already gathered in the courtyard in front of the ANBU compound, standing a little nervous distance apart. Yuugao couldn't remember either of their names, but at least she didn't remember either of them as being particularly unfriendly. She took up a position just behind the taller one, closed her eyes, and practiced breathing. It didn't help her temper much when Yonda came to stand at her elbow, but at least it helped her ignore him.

Orientation couldn't begin soon enough.

Hayate's morning was, in contrast to Yuugao's, altogether laid-back. The most difficult part of it had been washing his hair with his shoulder still aching and protesting. It was healing well, though, Oda-sensei had said. He was already doing light physical therapy to rehabilitate the joint, while the chakra-fused collarbone developed more sturdy, natural healing. He still had to wear the sling, though, which was another annoyance. To save time, he decided to don his ANBU uniform in his apartment, rather than change at HQ. It meant heading in to the office in mask and gear, but that was better than struggling out of an ordinary jounin's uniform and into his ANBU kit in the locker room, and having to maneuver around the sling. Yamanaka Hiroshi would be there, no doubt, since he was scheduled to give the orientation with Hayate, and Hayate didn't really want to hear about how stupid it was that he'd let a rookie girl break his shoulder.

He sauntered through Konoha's streets at 7:15, pausing to tip his masked face to the woman he bought a newspaper from. She knew him in and out of uniform, and Hayate often wondered if she'd connected the two. Surely she must, he thought, but there was an effect the ANBU uniform had that seemed to lead civilians away from, rather than towards conjecture. It was rare, in fact, that this woman was as friendly to him when he had his mask on as when he did not.

Approaching the gated ANBU compound, he tried to recall his first day there. It had seemed grand and imposing, though now it was merely the headquarters he called home. He checked in at the desk as he entered, then stopped in the mess hall for a bowl of rice with egg and natto, and a steaming bowl of miso soup. He was reading his paper when Yamanaka Hiroshi sat down across from him, scraping his chair noisily back.

"Ready for the rookies?" Hiroshi asked, and held up his sheaf of papers on the new recruits. "You're acting mighty relaxed for a man about to bring in ANBU history."

"You pay no attention to what other people say, do you?" Hayate asked mildly, sipping at his soup. "I'm assuming you're talking about my new squad member. Ryuuhei said there have been women Hunters since ANBU's inception."

"Yeah, but this one smacked you down. How's the arm?" Hiroshi almost sounded genuinely concerned. There was just the hint of an edge to his voice.

"Fine. Getting better," Hayate answered, looking up at his tall companion at last. "And it looks like your face is better. Just looks like a sunburn now."

"Yeah," Hiroshi said, and touched the slightly flaky red skin on his forehead. "And my hair's back to normal."

"Gods forbid your hair should look bad," Hayate teased. He finished up his rice and folded his paper up neatly. "You ready? I'm stopping by my office, but I guess it's about time."

Both men glanced at the clock: 0750. "Yeah, the runts should be out there getting anxious by about now. I say we make 'em wait til 0805," Hiroshi said with a grin.

Hayate gave a slow, unimpressed sniff. "I'll meet you on the parade grounds at 0800," he said. "If you want to make them wait, we'll have to do it after lunch. Quartermaster expects us to hand them all off to him at 0815." And even Hiroshi knew better than to cross the quartermaster.

Hayate was unsurprised when Hiroshi met him at the doors to the parade grounds at precisely 0759. Both men pulled their masks into place - Hayate's blue and black hare face, and Hiroshi's green abstract bird. They pushed the doors open and strode out to find the seven Hunter recruits standing around in irregular and anxious looking clumps. Yuugao, he was pleased to see, was there, looking tense and keyed up, but ready for this. Good, she hadn't chickened out, as some of the more misogynistic captains had predicted.

"Gentlemen," Hiroshi said.

Hayate coughed.

"And lady," Hiroshi added, with a mock bow towards Yuugao. "Welcome to ANBU. From here on out, your lives will never be the same."

From the moment the doors in front of her squeaked open, and two ANBU captains stepped out to face the nervous rookies, Yuugao forgot all about Yonda standing silent and ominous at her shoulder. He couldn't worry her, but these men held her future in their hands--

Or hand. Gekkou-taichou's hare-faced mask was as memorable as the left arm now neatly bound in a cloth sling. Yuugao winced and tried even harder to concentrate on the captains' words.

The taller captain, in a green-and-white mask, did most of the talking. His introduction was calculated to be both inspiring and intimidating, she thought; he reminded the rookies that they had made it while most did not, that they had joined the ranks of the elite amongst the elite. But they were also, from this day forward, even more anonymous. He touched his own mask in emphasis, and Gekkou-taichou dipped his head.

"You'll face death," the taller captain said. "Your missions will be rougher and dirtier and nastier than they've ever been--but they'll also support Konoha more than any of your missions ever have. You'll operate on missions of village security as well as on the missions that will bring Konoha the most prestige--and the most cash. But your name will never be known. Once you wear the mask, outside these walls you are nameless, faceless; you exist to be a weapon for Konoha. You'll likely die in this service. Several of you are here to replace those agents who did."

Am I? Yuugao wondered. She glanced towards Gekkou-taichou again, but the painted ceramic face was as empty and still as ever. She bit her lip, and wondered if she'd ever know.

"Five of you have been assigned to squads already," the first captain concluded. "The other two will be put in the pool of unassigned agents. You'll be snatched up by any team that needs your particular skills for any mission. But none of you will be meeting your teams yet. Quartermaster's expecting you." His head tilted slightly in Gekkou-taichou's direction, as though sharing a private joke. "You'll get your first issue of uniform and weapons, and then we'll be hustling you through to the infirmary for check-ups and your tattoos." One gloved finger reached out to tap the scarlet tattoo inked into Gekkou-taichou's bare, muscled shoulder. "Any questions?"

Yuugao had plenty, but she wasn't going to ask them now. She looked straight ahead, and tried very hard to ignore Yonda raising his hand behind her.

"Just one, Taichou," he said in a voice rough with mock gentleness. "I'm a little concerned for our--lady, here. Are you sure--"

He broke off with a strangled gasp, and staggered back. Yuugao rubbed her sandaled foot lightly against the inside of her leg and tried not to smile.

If Hayate had been a slightly less controlled man, he would have laughed, seeing Yuugao crushing the bigger man's instep without so much as a blink. Several of the rookies who caught what had just happened did snicker, and Yonda was red-faced and spluttering. Of course these things could get out of hand, what with these being a cadre of highly aggressive, highly trained killers. Hayate turned his masked face just a fraction, just enough for Yuugao, if she was paying attention, to realize he was looking right at her. He wondered if she'd sense the smile behind his blank porcelain expression.

"If there are no procedural questions," he said with just a hint of irony, "then please follow Yamanaka-taichou and me to the quartermaster. Before we go, I have two pieces of important advice for you: One, try not to make an enemy of the man who issues your equipment, or you are likely to find yourself stocked with natto-flavored rat bars on your next mission." The rookies chuckled, and Hayate waited for it to die down before he continued.

"Two," he said, and turned to look at Yuugao and Yonda again, "no matter what you might think of each other when you are not in uniform, once you don your mask and vest, you are ANBU, you are comrades, and you are each other's blood. There is no bond more important than that of one agent to another, save that of all agents to the Hokage himself." He paused to let his words sink in, then stood a little straighter, touching his right hand to the tattoo on his left shoulder in a salute that, by the time these rookies were in the service for more than a week, they would come to recognize as the solemn mark of a deeply sworn oath.

"Am I clear?"

"Hai!" Seven voices blended into one; Yuugao could barely make out her own clear high alto among the chorus of tenors and baritones. Of course that rebuke was aimed at her, but it wasn't so sharp as it might have been. That, at least, was something to be grateful for. Even if Yonda was still swearing under his breath.

"Right, then," the man who must be Yamanaka-taichou said, lifting a gloved hand in a casual summons. "Follow us." He turned with just the hint of a limp, and headed for the doors again. After a half-second's hesitation, the rookies struck out after him.

Yuugao hung just a little behind. She didn't want Yonda at her back--though he seemed anxious enough to catch up to Yamanaka-taichou--and she'd noticed that Gekkou-taichou was still standing to one side of the door, waiting to bring up the rear. She caught the door from the hulking rookie (Akimichi Touji, if she remembered correctly) just in front of her, and stepped back again, holding it for the man who would be her captain.

"I apologize for my...impropriety, taichou," she said quietly. "I assure you it won't happen again."

"I'd be more surprised," Hayate answered in a light voice, "If it did not. I'm afraid you are likely to run into some of that attitude fairly often. You will have to find a way to earn their respect without making enemies, Uzu... Yuugao." He had to make an effort to use her personal name, but that was his point to her, was it not? That her gender didn't make any difference to him, even if it did to some of the others? And if she were male, he knew, he'd have called her by her first name unhesitatingly, just as he did with Shou and Ryouma.

He wished he had better advice for her than just that, but there wasn't much he could tell her. Certainly not from personal experience. "You should at least be relieved to know, " he said at last, "that your squadmates, whom you'll meet this afternoon, do not harbor overt prejudices against your gender."

Her rookie status might be another matter entirely. But she'd prove herself, he was sure. It was why, after all, he'd argued so strongly for her inclusion in ANBU.

Yuugao wasn't so sure about that overt--did it mean she should be looking out for more subtle prejudice? Easier tasks on missions, or teammates expecting her not to pull her full weight? But Gekkou-taichou had at least admitted when he'd been holding back on her, and he'd encouraged her to give everything she had in return. Yuugao sighed. "I couldn't stomp on every foot in ANBU, even if that was the best way to win their respect." She'd just have to win it the way she'd won everything else in her life, by hard work and stubbornness and a solid facade of utter indifference. She could pretend that it didn't matter what anyone else thought, and she could pretend it well enough to convince everyone but herself.

The door swung shut behind them as they stepped into the cool, air-conditioned lobby. At the head of the group, Yamanaka-taichou was pointing out the front desk and the young ANBU seated behind it, keeping the register of every agent who entered and exited. After this morning their names would be on that log as well, and they would never pass through ANBU's doors without checking in or out. The agent behind the desk gave them a cheery thumbs-up, and their little group swept on again.

Their pace was a little slower than any of them might normally walk; Yuugao guessed it was due to Yamanaka-taichou's injured leg. Ordinarily she might have chafed a little at the slow pace, but now she used the time to glance around her, taking in the notices tacked to the walls and the scarred doors and the occasional uniformed but unmasked agent who passed them. She used the time, too, to discretely observe Gekkou-taichou as best as she could.

He was a little taller than she was, almost as slender; the muscles in his bare arm looked hard, defined by constant exercise. He was strong, she remembered, and fast--well, his speed would be a goal for her to achieve. His dark hair looked shaggy, as if he'd gone several months past the time when he should have had it cut, and the white band of his sling was very bright against his black collar. Yuugao nibbled on her bottom lip.

"I hope your shoulder's healing well," she offered awkwardly, after a minute. "I know I apologized already, but--I'm still sorry, if that matters."

She couldn't help wishing that he'd tip his mask back again, the way he had after their match together; it was so much easier to talk to a man when she could see his face.

"I told you before you have nothing to apologize for," Hayate said mildly. "But I appreciate your concern. My shoulder is much better, thank you. How is your leg?" He actually already knew the answer to that question, since he'd checked with the medic who'd treated her almost daily for status reports. He knew she'd gotten the stitches out, it had healed well, and she'd been released back to active duty.

The other rookies were staring around at the interior of the forbidden cloister that ANBU HQ was. How odd, Hayate remembered thinking, back when he'd been a rookie, that inside it looked like any other administrative building. There were briefing rooms, notices tacked on the wall about changes to security protocols and intramural shuriken tag tournaments. There were old, blotchy looking vinyl chairs in the lobby, and signs on the wall directing seekers to various departments.

He watched Yuugao, wondering what she was making of it. Her hair, he noted, was still a satiny and distracting waterfall of deep eggplant purple. It was something he'd have to work extra hard not to think about. She was his subordinate now, after all.

"My leg?" Yuugao glanced down self-consciously, as if she could still expect to see the pale pink line of the new scar through the dark fabric of her shorts. "It's fine. I had the stitches out last week." Hard to believe that it really had been eleven days since that last trial; the time between acceptance and orientation had alternately dragged and flown. Yuugao smiled a little at the floor. "We'll have to have a rematch soon, when I'm at top form and before you are. It may be my only chance to impress you."

She glanced up quickly at him, and the half-smile lingered just a little. Of course, he might be the kind of captain who expected nothing less than complete and serious devotion out of his subordinates; and if he were, she could do it. But she thought--and hoped, a little--that he wasn't. That perhaps, even as her captain, he might still be willing to smile back.

Hayate blinked, inclining his head to the left, towards Yuugao. "You've already impressed me, " he said quietly, almost so low that she would have to lean in to hear him, "or you wouldn't be here."

Before the conversation could carry on, though, they rounded a corner to find themselves standing in front of a bank of three windows set into a wall.

"Quartermaster," Hiroshi announced to the rookies, and made a sweeping gesture with his hand towards the office they now faced. A spiral emblem matching the tattoo that swirled over his and Hayate's shoulders was emblazoned on each window, along with a list of hours.

"They're never really shut," Hiroshi continued, "but if it isn't an emergency, I advise against attempting to get new gloves at three in the morning."

Hayate nodded and joined his colleague in front of the rookies. He reached up and pushed his mask back, now, taking it off and holding it thoughtfully, showing his bare face for the first time.

"You'll be getting these today, along with your uniforms. We generally don't wear them inside the compound, but outside..." He gestured back towards the lobby they'd left behind. "I suspect none of you have ever seen an ANBU in uniform without his mask."

"Unless he was dying," Hiroshi added. He pushed his own mask up, revealing an unsmiling, though handsome face.

"Unless he was dying," Hayate agreed.

There was a long, silent moment, and then a barrel-chested older man stepped out of a door next to the windows. "Well, Yamanaka-taichou, Gekkou-taichou," he said, and sounded vaguely unhappy to see them. "So you've brought me my new rookies to equip? Alright, line up over there and come when I call you."

The rookies shuffled over obediently, not without a few regretful glances back at the two captains; even as jounin and (mostly) big burly men, they felt a little adrift here, in a new world where they didn't yet fit in. But Gekkou-taichou was speaking in a low voice to the quartermaster, and Yamanaka-taichou seemed to be waiting for him to finish. When he did, Yamanaka-taichou rubbed at a reddened cheek (sunburn?, Yuugao wondered) and announced, "Quartermaster's got you for the next three-quarters of an hour. When you're done here, one of his boys'll take you on to the infirmary to get your tattoos. We'll pick you up there."

And that was it, and in the next moment they were gone. Gekkou-taichou's translocation was a little cleaner than Yamanaka-taichou's, a little faster, but Yuugao didn't think she could have mastered even the taller man's speed and control--and she was, she knew from watching the other trials, clearly the fastest of the rookies. There was a reason these men were in command.

She had a while to think over it. Whatever list the Quatermaster had was clearly alphabetical; he called "Akimichi Touji," and spent the next ten minutes barking orders that sent assistants scurrying for progressively larger sizes in uniforms, sandals, armor. Poor, hulking Touji looked a little embarrassed at all the fuss, and at last he accepted the last of his gear (one set of everything; they'd have the rest issued in a few days) and rejoined them in the line, as "Fujiwara Kai" was called up to the front. Yuugao closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She had a while to wait.

Most of the rookies were outfitted much faster than Touji had been, but even so, they were approaching perilously close to their time limit before Yuugao's name was called. To her surprise, the Quartermaster looked at her with something much more like satisfaction than surprise.

"I knew keeping those modified sets would come in handy," he said, almost cheerfully. "Fifty kilograms, mm? And--hmm...one hundred and seventy centimeters?"

"One hundred and sixty-nine, actually," Yuugao said, a little embarrassed. She stood a head shorter than most of these men, weighed at least thirty kilos less than all of them. Lightweight was nothing less than true, even if she probably could pound their faces into the floor. But the Quartermaster just nodded and snapped out an order to his assistants, who returned quickly with armfuls of thin black clothing, silvery body armor, black boot-sandals and leg-wraps. The first assistant hesitated a moment, holding the shirt and pants out to her and looking indecisively around him.

"We haven't really got a changing room, but there's a bathroom in the back..."

"It's fine," Yuugao said, quickly. She'd spent her entire adolescence on a genin team with two boys, after all, and she'd changed and washed in their company too many times to count. Strangers weren't that different, especially if she didn't intend to give them any reason to treat her differently from any other agent. With quick, efficient movements, she peeled out of her clothing and stepped into the black uniform pants and sleeveless, turtle-necked shirt. They were both as slim-fitting as anything Yuugao had ever worn in her life; and the padded body-armor must have been modified as well, because it clung to her spare curves as if it had been molded to her.

"These belonged to Izumi-san, four years back," the Quartermaster said absently, in answer to her unspoken question. He had his back to her, and was studying a wall hung with masks painted as gaily as if they were for a children's carnival. "She's retired with a baby now, I hear..."

"Two of 'em," one of his assistants corrected, handing Yuugao a pair of elbow-length black gloves reinforced with metal plates on the backs of the hands. "Married one of her old genin teammates," he told Yuugao chattily. "She's teaching part-time at the Academy now."

"Ah," Yuugao said, pulling her gloves on and buckling on the curved arm-guards over them. Was that a hint--that a woman's place was at home with her children, not out here with a sword? But Izumi-san had served, and served well if she'd retired with health and strength. Her armor was still in good condition, smelling faintly of worn canvas and leather-oil. The vest hugged Yuugao's ribs when she breathed, like an old friend's arms.

"Not Izumi's mask for you, though," the Quartermaster said, still perusing the wall. He seemed to be particularly caught by one mask hanging in the top corner, and after a moment more he fetched it down. It was vaguely feline, with round eye-holes, a painted cat's mouth, and a wavy scarlet line on each cheek and running down the forehead. "Cat for you," he told her, holding it out. "Proud, aloof, elegant--" And here his dour face finally cracked a smile. "We heard about your match with Gekkou-taichou. You'll do well here, girl."

"Thank you," Yuugao said, quietly. She took the mask, and fitted it to her face. The world was cool suddenly, dark, limited; her peripheral vision narrowed, and her breath seemed oddly loud. She took the mask off again and smiled at the Quartermaster and his assistants. "Thank you."

"Welcome," the Quartermaster said, gruff and busy again, and shouted at last for "Yonda Daisuke!"

Hayate left the rookies to the quartermaster, left Hiroshi to his own devices (he really didn't want to hear another word about his new "girl" from the man,) and headed back to his office. It was a small, windowless room on an interior corridor on the second floor, just like all the ANBU captains' offices. Inside were crammed a filing cabinet, three desks and four chairs, and a battered looking love seat that had obviously been slept on a time or two. The walls were adorned with a wooden rack holding three katana, an assortment of small city maps and one large topographical map of Fire Country, a row of pegs from which hung a couple of weapons holsters and med kits, and one cracked and blackened ANBU mask--a boar.

Hayate didn't really look at any of it. His eyes slid over the clutter like a breeze over ice, ignoring everything that was in its place, and the few things that weren't, including the three partly-filled cups of tea, now cold and dank, and an empty curry bowl from the place across the street, that littered his desk. He settled himself on the loveseat, curling up on it like a cat, and opened his paper. He should, he supposed, go over the plans for the afternoon. But there wasn't much left to do. The rookies would get their uniforms and tattoos, then he and Hiroshi would rejoin them, give them a tour of the building, explain how missions were alloted and assigned, take them all to the cafeteria for lunch, and then they'd join their new teams.

Once he had Yuugao with Shou and Ryouma in the afternoon, they'd spend some time getting to know one another, maybe spar a little. Something to start to forge the bonds that would be essential to Squad Six's survival. But there wasn't much more planning to do. Not really.

He was reading the sports page when he sensed a presence in his doorway and glanced up.

"Yo," came a cheerful greeting. A slender, smiling blond man in an ANBU Hunter's uniform was leaning casually against the door.

"Genta," Hayate greeted him, sitting up with a smile, obviously pleased to see his friend.

"Heard your rookie is already making friends with mine," Genta said, still grinning, and perched on the loveseat next to Hayate. "Shove over and make some room, gimp. How's your arm?"

"Better," Hayate said, sitting the rest of the way up and putting his paper aside. "And news travels fast."

"Yeah well, I think a few people saw her put Yonda in his place." Genta laughed again, but his light blue eyes turned a little more serious. "I'm gonna have trouble with this one, I can already tell. People think you got the shaft cause you got the chick, but it's really Squad Three that's gonna suffer if that guy doesn't kill the attitude."

Hayate nodded in sympathy. "He was good in the trials, but..." Yonda Daisuke had been one of the most hotly contested recruiting decisions, back in that captains' meeting. Hayate and Genta had both voted no. "I really don't see why Ryuuhei assigned him to your squad, after the way that meeting went."

"He came to me later and asked me to take him. Said his skills meshed well with my team," Genta said. "With Isato gone," he hesitated just slightly as he spoke the name of his deceased subordinate, "we needed another ninjutsu specialist. And Ryuuhei said he thought if anyone could get Yonda to fall in line, it would be me."

"Either that or make him run screaming," Hayate said with a wry smile. "He seems like the kind of guy who has something to prove about his masculinity."

"Yeah, well," Genta laughed. "There are a thousand and one ways to be a man, my sensei always said. If Yonda's gonna survive ANBU, he'll learn to deal with all of them, including my way."

Hayate chuckled, then sighed, growing more sober, and glanced up at the damaged mask on the wall. "You think your team is ready for a new member? It's been three months since Fukashi died, and it still feels weird to have someone new."

"Isato died two months ago," Genta said, in a soft, serious voice. "Squad Three needs a stable ninjutsu specialist. We've been drawing from the open pool, same as you, but it's easier to pick up a taijutsu floater than a ninjutsu user and work him into the team."

"Yeah," Hayate agreed. "We've got Ryouma. It's definitely easier knowing what to expect."

"Well anyway," Genta said and stretched, "it'll either work or it won't. But you know me, I usually make things work."

"If you need any help..." Hayate offered.

"Dude, you're gonna be the one who needs help, not me," Genta retorted. "I just have a lippy kid with a chip on his shoulder and an inferiority complex about the size of his dick; you've got the first chick hunter since Izumi retired."

"She left before I joined," Hayate said. "You knew her?"

"Yeah, I was on her team when I was a rookie," Genta said. "She was awesome. Scary as hell, batshit crazy, and really, really awesome."

"Coming from you," Hayate said, "that's a high recommendation."

Genta glanced at his watch, then at Hayate's clock. "We should go. Rookies will be about done in the infirmary soon." He stood, then extended a gloved hand to Hayate, who took it and let Genta pull him to his feet.

"How much longer you gotta be in that sling?" Genta asked, as they headed down the hall.

"Couple weeks, according to Oda-sensei," Hayate answered with a frown.

"Damn. Sucks to be you," Genta teased. "Guess your rookie already has a big head about it."

"No, actually," Hayate said, thinking of Yuugao's gentle, worried look. "She seems really sorry about it."

"Ouch, man, that's even worse!" Genta said with a laugh.

"Maybe," Hayate said. "Well, we'll see anyway. I don't think she thinks I'm a total wimp."

"Yeah," Genta said. "That'd be Yamanaka who thinks that."

"Thinks what?" Hiroshi asked, joining his colleagues on their way to collect the rookies.

"Nothing," Hayate said.

"Yep, nothing at all," Genta laughed. "Empty headed Yamanaka."

"Oi, shut it," Hiroshi complained, but then they were at the Infirmary, and could see their rookies milling about inside. No more time for banter.

The medics went in alphabetical order, too; but they went in reverse. With four medics detailed to attend to the rookies, they also went in shifts. Yuugao set her jaw at the first stab of the needle in her bare shoulder, and spent the next thirty minutes in painful dignified silence as the needle jabbed away. Cleaned and bandaged at last, she went back to lean against the wall while the remaining three new rookies jostled into place for their tattooing.

There was a lot more waiting than she'd expected, Yuugao decided, resting her head against the wall and briefly closing her eyes. Her ears still buzzed with the medic's lecture on care of her new tattoo; he seemed to expect she'd be ripping the bandage off and scratching it as soon as she was out of his eyesight. Well, she had even less desire to repeat the process than he did, and no desire at all to risk scabbing or infection. Keeping her shoulder covered while she showered for the next two weeks would be a major pain, though.

She heard the lecture again, in even more detail, when the medics finished with the last three of the rookies. No direct sunlight, no soaking, no strain that might stretch the skin and turn Konoha's emblem of pride into a blurry mess. Hideyoshi-sensei probably knew his words were falling on mostly-deaf ears, Yuugao decided as she glanced at two rookies playing a discreet game of jan-ken-pon beside her. No wonder he sounded so frustrated.

Or, of course, it could be because he was still only warming to his subject--and the captains were already waiting outside. There were three of them now; a slim, pale-haired man had joined Gekkou-taichou and his tall blond companion. Through the wide glass window beside the door, Yuugao could see them talking as they waited for the medic's lecture to finish. Yamanaka-taichou seemed a little less patient than the others. As Hideyoshi-sensei was still reminding them about the effects of scabbing on a tattoo, Yamanaka-taichou pushed the door open and leaned in.

"Oi, we're behind schedule already. Gekkou can lecture them on the rest of it--gods know he doesn't get to lecture people enough already." He stepped back, holding the door open, and jerked his thumb behind him. "C'mon, kids, out!"

"When their tattoos get blurred or infected," Hideyoshi-sensei said nastily, "don't send them to me." He stripped off his rubber gloves and turned away, pointedly busying himself with cleaning up his tattooing station.

Yuugao was almost surprised to find herself trading a long, significant glance with the hulking rookie beside her. Akimichi Touji looked a little embarrassed at the fuss. "Can't wait until they're not passing us around like kids," he rumbled. "I think I'm glad I'm not on his team."

"Whose team are you on?" Yuugao inquired, as they passed through the door. Yamanaka-taichou had already taken off; Gekkou-taichou was talking quietly with the new captain, and waiting to bring up the rear again. Yuugao had to lengthen her stride to keep in step with Touji, but he seemed to be walking a little slower than usual, to stay with her.

"Tenzou-taichou, Squad Two," Touji said. He reached for his left shoulder absently, as if to scratch the bandage, and immediately curled his fingers into a fist and stuffed it into his pocket. "Don't know him, but he fought Hiromi in the last exams." He cast her what might have been a shy look, if he weren't nearly two feet taller than she was. "I didn't see you fight Gekkou-taichou, but I heard about it. And I can see the story was true."

"He was holding back on me," Yuugao said hastily. She could feel the blush burning in her cheeks already.

Fortunately, Yamanaka-taichou chose that moment to begin a running commentary that took them up a flight of stairs, down a long hall lined with the doors of each squad captain's office, and up another flight of stairs into a series of training gyms and work-out rooms. Another narrower flight of stairs took them to the flat roof, where a small mews staffed by two Intel agents housed the compound's messenger birds.

Then they were running down the stairs again, this time going one flight further down. They toured the locker rooms, surprised two agents in the showers, stumbled over a very young agent attempting to plant a home-made bomb in a clogged toilet. They'd receive their locker assignments with their squads, Yamanaka-taichou promised, and hurried them onwards.

Just down from the locker rooms, on the other side of the (ridiculously small) rec room, they found the reason for Yamanaka-taichou's hurry. The ANBU mess was serving up the last of lunch, and--contrary to all Yuugao's expectations about institutional food--it actually smelled good.

Touji abandoned her, then, in favor of stocking several trays with as much food as the impressed servers would give him. Yuugao took a serving of rice and a bowl of miso soup, and found a seat by herself at a small, circular table.

Hayate watched while the rookies got their noon meal, and gave Genta an encouraging salute when his friend went to sit with his new squad member. The other captains were coming in now too, to sit with their new recruits. Ryuuhei nodded at each of his captains as he made his way to sit with the two agents who were not assigned to squads.

Hayate carefully carried his tray one-handed over to the table Yuugao had chosen, and slid in across from her. He looked at the salt-grilled mackerel, pickles, salad, rice and bowl of soup on his own tray, then at her meagre lunch and smiled.

"You're going to need more than that, if you're going to get through this afternoon," he said. He broke his chopsticks apart by holding them stationary between his teeth, then held them awkwardly with his right hand and started picking at his fish.

And you're going to need to eat better than that, Yuugao thought, eyeing his awkward handling of the chopsticks. But she didn't say it. She might have gently needled Izumo, or verbally sparred with Kotetsu, but she wasn't nearly comfortable enough with her new captain for that level of familiarity. Perhaps in time...

"Will this afternoon be as intense as this morning, then?" she asked, raising one delicate eyebrow and taking a mouthful of rice. Perhaps it wasn't as high in protein (or calories all together) as his lunch, but it had the added advantage of not being mackerel (too salty) or grilled eggplant (just...no.)

"You'll be meeting your squad mates, Tousaki Ryouma and Yamane Shou," Hayate said. "I thought we'd go over a training schedule, maybe have you guys spar a bit, since we won't be taking any missions for the next two weeks." He gave a little involuntary glance at his still-healing shoulder and dropped the bit of pickled daikon he had been picking up.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, and retrieved the pickle. He glanced up at Yuugao to see what he was pretty sure was amusement in her eyes.

"I'm a lot better with a blade right-handed than I am chopsticks," he said, and gave her an embarrassed smile.

"I can bear witness of that," she assured him, smiling back. "It's my duty to defend my captain's honor now, isn't it?" Presumably against rather more serious threats than accusations of awkwardness, but it was a start. She'd have to work up to loyal lies about where exactly he'd been last Friday night...

And she really needed to stop thinking of what she would have said to Izumo or Kotetsu in these circumstances. Her twitching mouth was getting the better of her, and she hurriedly took a sip of her miso soup before she forgot herself entirely and laughed. Or, worse yet, told him what she was thinking.

"Well, I don't know about that," Hayate said with a small smile. "I hope I'll be the sort of captain whose honor is above question." He was about ready to give up on the fish, which stubbornly fell to pieces each time he tried to pick up a mouthful. "But if you want to defend me from looking like an idiot, remind me next time to eat something that takes less coordination."

"There's the soup," Yuugao pointed out, finishing off the last of her own. He was right; she was still a little hungry. She glanced up at the serving line again, thoughtfully. They probably saw enough injured agents in here that they kept at least a handful of utensils requiring a little less coordination. She could at least ask.

"Excuse me for a moment," she said, slipping out of her chair and heading back for the serving line. A few brief words, and she returned with a plate of sweet bean-paste buns and a fork. Wordlessly, she set the fork beside Hayate's place and took her own seat.

The buns were nearly as good as Izumo's, when he could be persuaded to make them. Anko would be wild with jealousy.

Oh. A fork. How thoughtful. Hayate colored a delicate pink, glad that Hiroshi was busy with his own recruit, and Genta was off attempting to establish contact with Yonda. He glanced up to see Tenzou looking at him, though, with an amused smile. His huge Akimichi recruit had his back to them, at least, and Tenzou wasn't nearly the tease that some of the captains were. It was a small comfort.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and put the new utensil to use on the fish.

Yuugao's anko-filled bun suddenly turned stale and tasteless in her mouth. She swallowed carefully and set the rest of the bun down on her plate. Of course, she should have known he'd have his pride; she should have realized he hadn't been serious. She'd probably have been equally insulted, if he'd been the one to bring her aid unasked-for.

Apologies would only make things worse. Couldn't she manage anything right? From breaking her new captain's shoulder to insulting him almost every time they spoke... It was her fault, too, that they wouldn't be taking any missions for two weeks. What did her vaunted skill matter if she couldn't work with her new team?

And by the pace of the men eating around them--some of whom were going back for seconds--they had at least another ten minutes of this awkward, miserable silence. Perhaps failing the exams in the first place really would have been preferable.

Hayate couldn't fail to notice the way Yuugao stiffened up all of a sudden. She looked ill, almost; seriously unhappy and uncomfortable.

"Hey, it's no big deal," he said, and took another bite of the fish. "This is much easier. Should have thought of it myself, but... Well my mind was on other things."

He watched for a reaction, but saw only skepticism in her eyes.

"Yuugao," he said quietly, putting his fork down and meeting her dark gaze. "It's lunch. You helped me out. And honestly, it's okay to say, 'Hayate, you idiot, use a tool suited to the task and your abilities.' In fact, as my squad mate and subordinate, I'd say it's incumbent on you to say such things."

There was something about that quiet, steady face and those serious dark eyes that made it nearly impossible for Yuugao to angst brood any further. He shouldn't have been able to do that, just with an intent gaze and a gentle voice, but apparently no one have ever told that to Gekkou Hayate. Just as no one had ever told him not to pair that serious tone with such ridiculous words. He couldn't honestly expect her to say that, could he? He was probably just trying--

Someday, she might learn to stop herself from thinking about things. Someday that wasn't a mission, at least. When there was an objective and an enemy, Yuugao had no problems at all. It was when no clear objective presented itself, and only friends--or at least comrades--stood near her, that she stumbled. Far better to take a kunai than to take the weight of someone else's disappointment, or her own. Gods, she hated feeling so insecure!

But where normally she would have drawn her walls around her and faced that crushing burden of failure on her own, somehow Gekkou-taichou's calm eyes undermined her walls and shifted away the burden. He was serious in what he said, no matter how absurd it sounded; serious about needing not his honor, but his dignity, defended.

Yuugao had dignity enough and to spare, but somehow even that thought could barely quell the incredible impulse to laugh. At him...and even more, at herself.

"Hai, Gekkou-taichou," she said at last, bending her head in submission--or in an attempt to hide the smile that wouldn't stop tugging rebelliously at her lips.

"Good," Hayate said, and where her smile was hidden, his was full and genuine. "As long as we have that straight, we'll get along just fine."

It was going to be an interesting challenge working with this woman. She seemed so delicately balanced. But she seemed to come out of her funk easily enough, and that was a good thing. Ryouma and Shou were good guys. They'd help her fit in, he trusted. And as eager to please as she seemed to be, they'd work it out.

He picked up his soup and drank quietly, still with a touch of amusement on his face. When they were both finished he gave her a quiet grin.

"Well, Uzuki Yuugao," he said, "ready to meet the rest of Squad Six?"

She nodded, and Hayate stood up, gesturing for her to do the same.

"Welcome to ANBU."