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Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"Undertow" published on 2004-04-26 10:36:03.

"Challenge - Chapter One" published on 2004-06-16 13:32:00.

"Challenge - Chapter Four" published on 2004-06-17 15:57:46.

"Water" published on 2004-06-23 02:38:07.

"Challenge - Chapter Nine" published on 2004-06-20 19:38:37.

"Temper" published on 2004-06-27 12:43:53.

"Need" published on 2004-07-02 18:52:06.

"The Continuation of War" published on 2004-07-07 18:55:22.

"Fly" published on 2004-08-07 19:47:17.

"Circle" published on 2004-08-08 19:54:07.

"The Other Side" published on 2005-02-28 20:19:33.

"Mock Battle" published on 2005-03-03 20:38:48.

"Given" published on 2005-04-30 20:59:56.

"Warming Up" published on 2005-05-05 21:06:00.

"The Rush" published on 2005-05-10 21:11:10.

"Extra - Rematch" published on 2005-09-02 21:19:54.

"Immanent" published on 2006-05-31 16:22:30.

"Unnoticed" published on 2006-06-01 18:38:57.

"Tarnished" published on 2006-06-02 18:45:39.

"Need Beyond Want" published on 2006-06-10 18:52:40.

"Hold" published on 2006-06-16 19:06:26.

"Washed Dry" published on 2006-07-12 19:13:50.

"Cold Fingers and Hot Drinks" published on 2007-05-16 13:54:12.

"Brittle Edge" published on 2008-08-01 17:02:11.

"Breaking of the Day" published on 2008-12-02 09:47:55.

"Sakura Growing Upside Down" published on 2008-12-09 10:48:11.

"War of Aggression" published on 2009-08-20 11:39:14.

"Gray Willow Catkins" published on 2009-03-12 14:29:53.

"Five Things That Never Happened to Xanxus" published on 2009-08-03 14:21:10.

"Three Things that Might Have Happened to Xanxus" published on 2009-08-06 18:52:20.

"Surprised Into Greatness" published on 2009-12-14 17:56:59.

"Archimedes' Lever - Five" published on 2009-12-26 14:18:09.

"Keeping Up with the Vongolas" published on 2010-02-25 13:18:52.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter One" published on 2011-07-29 18:01:58.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Two" published on 2011-08-05 12:04:56.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Three" published on 2011-08-12 16:48:53.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Four" published on 2011-08-19 11:02:30.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Eight" published on 2011-09-16 11:57:54.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Ten" published on 2011-09-30 11:29:55.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Eleven" published on 2011-10-07 15:14:54.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Fourteen" published on 2011-10-28 12:24:05.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Fifteen" published on 2011-11-04 12:57:41.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Twenty" published on 2011-12-09 12:16:38.

"Cloud Hands" published on 2011-10-21 13:52:16.

"This Moment to Arise - Revelations" published on 2012-12-19 18:29:10.

"This Moment to Arise - Stumbles" published on 2013-01-30 14:37:16.

"Candles Lit at the Doors" published on 2017-08-21 19:26:41.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is .

Cover design by Branch.

Undertow

Hiyoshi's perspective on a "chance" encounter between Hyoutei and Seigaku, and especially their captains. Drama with Flirting, I-3

Wakashi thought, later, that it started innocently enough, with Mukahi complaining. That was nothing unusual. Nor did it surprise anyone that Mukahi was annoyed that he hadn't gotten a chance to play against Kikumaru and his partner at Prefecturals this year, and, in the Doubles Two slot, was unlikely to have the chance at Regionals either, even supposing Seigaku and Hyoutei came up across from each other again. Wakashi ignored him, as he usually did. It was nobody else's problem that Mukahi and Oshitari hadn't been able to secure a position as the first doubles team.

So it escaped his notice, until long after the fact, that Atobe's smile had taken on an extra edge, or that their captain had dispatched one of the lesser club members on an unspecified errand. The first anyone really knew of something going on was at the end of practice a few days later when Atobe answered his cell phone and suddenly had the gleam in his eye that meant someone was going to regret his existence very soon.

"Mukahi, you were saying you wanted a chance to play Seigaku's Golden Pair?" Atobe asked, with a shark's smile.

"Yes," Mukahi answered, a bit warily.

"Well, here's your chance. You remember the courts down by the park?" Everyone nodded. "It seems some of the Seigaku team have gathered there today. Interested?"

Mukahi's eyes lit almost as brightly as Atobe's, and he looked over at his partner. Oshitari nodded agreement.

"Definitely interested," Oshitari replied for them.

"Who all is there?" Ohtori asked, looking a bit thoughtful. Atobe's smile widened enough to make Wakashi wonder just what he had in mind.

"Kikumaru and Oishi. Echizen. Momoshiro. And Inui." His glance flicked toward Wakashi on the last name, and Wakashi suppressed a snarl. Atobe's sense of humor had not been a welcome addition to his ongoing study of Inui Sadaharu's techniques and play style.

"Echizen, hm?" Ohtori mused. Wakashi had no idea what value Ohtori could see in being steamrollered by Seigaku's most annoying member, but he must see some. His steel was showing as he glanced at Shishido. His partner grinned back at him.

"I get the bouncy spiky-haired one, then," Shishido said.

From the expressions Wakashi saw, the entire team was thinking the same thing about pots and kettles.

In the end everyone agreed to go except Akutagawa, who wanted a nap, and Taki, who tended to distance himself as much as possible from Atobe's little projects. Wakashi wasn't sure why he went, since he had no intention of challenging any of Seigaku tonight. Certainly not Inui, and definitely not Echizen. Echizen was on his list of people to defeat later. After he caught up to Atobe. And he would.

Maybe it was just his curiosity about what Atobe was doing, he reflected as they made their way to the park. Because he had to be doing something. Atobe didn't go to trouble without a reason.

Of course, he could just be getting a kick out of putting Seigaku off balance. His expression was pleased enough when the other team stared in surprise at Hyoutei's arrival. Predictably enough, Echizen recovered his tongue first.

"Slumming?" he asked, eying Atobe.

"Gakuto missed Kikumaru so much we had to come visit," Oshitari purred. Kikumaru's eyes narrowed just a bit. He never had liked Mukahi. There were days when Wakashi sympathized a great deal.

"Oishi." It was just short of an order, and Oishi shot his partner a look both resigned and affectionate.

"One set," he specified, moving onto the court.

Every time he watched doubles pairs interact Wakashi became more grateful that he was a dedicated singles player.

As he watched the game get going, Wakashi wondered again just why Atobe had arranged this. It should be clear to anyone that, unless Oshitari had something phenomenal up his sleeve, he and Mukahi were going to lose. And then Mukahi would be absolutely unlivable for weeks. He would sulk. He would snap if anyone mentioned the game. And he would drive his teammates insane by focusing obsessively on whatever Oshitari came up with to address... the weakness...

Wakashi chewed on his lip and thought. At last he went and stood behind Atobe's shoulder. "You brought them here to lose," he stated. "To lose badly. They won against Inui and Kaidoh, even it it was just barely. You want them to lose badly enough to spur them on."

"You're learning," his captain murmured, without turning his head. There was that about Atobe, Wakashi reflected. He was not what anyone could call nurturing. He didn't lift a finger or say a word to teach Wakashi how to lead a Hyoutei team. But when Wakashi figured something out, Atobe did let him know whether or not he was right.

It was both annoying and useful. Because, while Wakashi didn't know whether he could exceed Atobe as a team captain, he was damn well going to keep trying. Anything less was unthinkable.

Sure enough, Oshitari and Mukahi lost. At least Oshitari managed to soothe his partner down from throwing an outright fit. Wakashi had to admit, Kikumaru's feline grin of triumph probably didn't help any. Ohtori's match with Echizen was about as uneven as Wakashi had expected, but Ohtori seemed satisfied. Inui also looked pleased, presumably for different reasons. By Wakashi's count he'd filled six pages with notes, during the match. Perhaps, he thought, as Shishido and Momoshiro swaggered onto the court, grinning and boasting at each other, Ohtori was using Echizen the same way Wakashi used Inui. As a gauge of his own progress.

With the example and tacit permission of Atobe's frequent matches with Tezuka, Wakashi had sought out a match with Inui every now and then. If Wakashi had progressed significantly since the last time Inui had a chance to take his measure, then they had a close game. Wakashi had even managed to win one or two. If he hadn't made enough progress to be a bit unpredictable, then he lost quickly and humiliatingly. It was effective. He couldn't imagine that it would do much good to play Echizen for such a purpose, but, then, Ohtori had some of the same spark that Echizen did. None of the bravura flare, but the same fine edge and knack for reaching beyond what was reasonable.

Shishido's game with Momoshiro was closer than Wakashi had thought it would be. Momoshiro's strength and sharp eye won in the end, but Shishido's speed and finesse drove through his guard often enough to make it tight. Echizen tossed his friend a water bottle as they returned, and told him he was slowing down in his old age. Ohtori gave his partner the smile he reserved for Shishido, brighter and gentler than the one he kept for everyday politeness.

And that seemed to conclude the evening. Wakashi was quietly relieved that Seigaku's captain hadn't shown up. No telling what kind of fireworks might follow if Atobe and Tezuka got into a match with most of their teams... looking... on...

Oh, hell. So much for leaving in time for dinner.

Echizen had noticed, too, and nudged Momoshiro, nodding toward where Tezuka stood just beyond the court, leaning on a lamp-post.

"Buchou!" Momoshiro exclaimed, and then everyone turned as Tezuka approached. Atobe gave no evidence of surprise, and Wakashi was positive he'd known the second Tezuka arrived.

"Tezuka," Atobe greeted him. "You're late." Tezuka didn't dignify that with a reply, merely nodded to Inui.

"Fuji passed on your message," he said. Why that should make all the third-year Seigaku smile, Wakashi couldn't imagine. Inside joke, he supposed.

And then Tezuka and Atobe came face to face. Wakashi had a sudden image of a piece of paper, drifting between them, ignited by the force of those locked stares.

"So?" Atobe asked, softly. Tezuka merely nodded, and dropped his bags, pulling out his racquet. Wakashi's gaze crossed Oishi's, the same touch of resignation in both. If their captains planned to go all out...

Sure enough, as Atobe and Tezuka set themselves on the court, a familiar feeling swept out from them like an ocean wave.

Wakashi was never quite sure why Atobe had chosen to ask him along as combination back-up and gofer at his unofficial matches with Tezuka. Most probably because he was the one most likely to keep his mouth shut, and not mention Atobe's obsession to their coach, who thought Atobe had better things to be concentrating on. Wakashi had as little to do with Sakaki-kantoku as he could reasonably manage, and wouldn't say anything in any case. They both knew he owed Atobe. They both knew that it was Atobe's influence that kept Wakashi a regular despite defeat, in the past. Not so much this year, perhaps; even Kantoku didn't really expect him to win against Seigaku's Singles Two player. He had kept three games, and, despite his own infuriating surety that Fuji Shuusuke had been taking it easy, that seemed to be enough for everyone who remembered what Seigaku's wild card was capable of.

But that didn't erase the first time. Not in Wakashi's mind, and certainly not in their coach's. Atobe's backing had saved him that year, much as it had Shishido. But Shishido and Atobe had been friends for a long time; it was easier for him to accept the help. Wakashi despised being indebted to Atobe. The only thing that made it tolerable was that Atobe clearly didn't expect it to stop Wakashi from trying to overthrow him.

And he was going to do it. Even watching these games hadn't dissuaded him, though he realized now that it was unlikely to happen unless he followed Atobe into the professional circuit. Chased him, the way he had realized, years ago, Inui chased Tezuka.

One of the reasons he wasn't dissuaded was that he wanted to find this intensity, this absolute focus and commitment that resonated between Atobe and Tezuka and covered the court like deep water. He leaned into it as they slashed across the court, returns singing through the air. In fact, everyone was leaning forward, entranced by the passion and precision of the players. The momentum never relented; this game was shaping up fast and hard, with few twists.

Or so Wakashi thought until Tezuka feinted a smash and delivered a drop shot instead. Regarding the ball that rested demurely just his side of the net, Atobe's mouth curled up and he directed a smoking look at his opponent.

"It isn't polite to leave your partner hanging, Tezuka," he admonished. Tezuka raised a brow at him.

"Do you doubt my endurance, Atobe?" he asked, with perfect composure. Atobe threw his head back and laughed, returning Tezuka's serve with a vicious slice.

The jaw of every single watcher dropped.

"Impossible... they're flirting!" Mukahi sputtered.

"They are," Kikumaru seconded, apparently too stunned to notice who he was agreeing with.

"At the very least," Oshitari murmured, sounding as floored as his partner.

Wakashi exchanged a long, wide-eyed look with Oishi, his fellow witness to matches between these two. This was certainly a new development.

That look caught Shishido's attention, and he leaned over Wakashi's shoulder.

"So, Hiyoshi," he said, conversationally, "how long has this been going on?" Every eye focused on Wakashi, and his spine stiffened in response.

"Ask Atobe-buchou yourself, if you want to know," he snapped. Shishido took on the look of a man calculating his chances of surviving a jump from a fifth floor window.

"Maybe," he muttered, dubiously.

"I don't think I really want to know," Momoshiro put in, sounding just a bit ill.

Wakashi ignored them all in favor of the game. He was not, actually, all that shocked, though that kind of banter seemed more in Atobe's line than in Tezuka's. He'd have thought Seigaku's captain would have had more decorum, even in the heat of a match. But it really fit well enough with the way these two played each other. The purity of the effort they exerted against each other, the complete, wordless rapport between them, the unspoken agreement that they could and would drive each other to the limit and beyond, it was the kind of thing that easily bled over into other kinds of passion. They were both breathing hard, now, dripping with sweat in the setting sun, and concentrated on each other like the twin mirrors of a laser.

Wakashi had occasionally been disturbed, watching them play, by a random thought wondering what it would be like to go to bed with one or the other of them. Since he would never, under normal circumstances, even consider the possibility, he had stamped out the thought quite violently the first few times it occurred. After a while, though, he realized that it was only the spill-over of the games. Even separated by the length of a court, Atobe and Tezuka were in constant contact while they played, just as much as if they had been running their hands over each other.

They reached a six game tie not long after the street lights came on.

"We'll be here until midnight if we don't stop them now," Oishi said quietly. Wakashi nodded agreement, and Oishi crossed the court to Tezuka, quickly, before he could serve again. Wakashi hopped over the low wall and leaned against it, waiting to see whether he would have to add his voice to Oishi's. Tezuka tilted his head, considering whatever Oishi was saying to him. He nodded, thoughtfully, and looked over to quirk a brow at Atobe. Atobe looked displeased, and waved a dismissive racquet. Abruptly, Tezuka's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. Atobe's mouth tightened, but after a moment he nodded and turned toward the seats. Wakashi was relieved. Talking to Atobe right after a match with Tezuka always made him feel like he was transparent. Atobe's focus was slow to widen again, enough to include anyone but Tezuka.

The teams broke up, chattering in the released tension, most of them dissecting the game. Shishido had a one sided smile that suggested he planned to tease Atobe about flirting as soon as some private opportunity presented itself. The gleam in Echizen's eye indicated he had similar plans, despite his current silence. They drifted off in ones and twos.

Atobe and Tezuka were looking at each other again.

Wakashi sighed. Why him? A quiet word to Ohtori let him hustle both his yearmate and Shishido off, leaving Atobe and Tezuka in peace.

Or as close to peace as the two of them probably ever got.

At this rate, his captain was going to start owing him.

Epilogue

"Atobe."

Keigo slung his bag over his shoulder and turned an inquiring look on Tezuka. Tezuka didn't answer aloud, instead taking Keigo's right hand in his own. He turned it palm up and pressed gently along the lines of the tendons. Keigo knew he would feel the tremors in the muscles. When Tezuka looked up, eyes demanding an explanation, Keigo shrugged his unburdened shoulder.

"I was working with Ohtori on his singles technique today. He's starting to be able to volley at strength, if someone can return his shots for long enough."

"And you baited me for a match today, anyway?" Tezuka asked, anger in the lowering of his voice. His fingers moved down Keigo's wrist and forearm, testing. "And you would have kept going if I hadn't noticed it."

"It was a match of opportunity, and don't try to tell me you wouldn't have done exactly the same thing," Keigo said, firmly. Tezuka ran a thumb down the long tendon of his arm, and he sighed faintly. It felt very pleasant. That seminar in sports medicine Tezuka said he had taken last winter definitely had some dividends.

"Perhaps." The corners of Tezuka's mouth twitched up. "But considering this I don't want to hear any more comments on my endurance."

Keigo's smile showed his teeth, and he looked Tezuka up and down, slowly.

"We'll have to see, won't we?" he purred. Tezuka chuckled softly, and let his hand go.

"See you Thursday?"

"Of course."

End

A/N: I am indebted, for a good deal of my conception of Hiyoshi, to Ruebert. Particularly the idea that he would be drawn to Inui's attitude and methods. *tips hat* Doumo.

Challenge - Chapter One

Niou enters junior high and encounters a wonderful new game. Drama, I-3

Niou Masaharu liked seeing people disconcerted. The expression itself amused him, and the knowledge that he had been the one to put it on somebody's face gave him a nice, warm glow of accomplishment. And, while he liked playing with people who appreciated his art and style, in order to get the full effect it was best to target the straightlaced and serious.

Thus, after spending a month or so observing his fellow first years it was as natural as sunrise that he should choose Yagyuu Hiroshi as his first major target.

Yagyuu was prim and proper, respectful and reserved. His appearance and his work were uniformly precise and neat. He spoke to everyone, from the teachers to his study partners to the girls who made eyes at him, in exactly the right fashion and degree for a good student with little interest in entanglements, either friendly or romantic.

He was ideal.

Masaharu had indulged in a little petty theft with every expectation of a handsome return on his effort. The contrast would be especially piquant, when that still face broke into an expression of shock, and possibly even turned red. It was a shame he couldn't get rid of the glasses, in order to get the full effect of the eyes widening, but perfection was rare. Masaharu accepted this, while taking pleasure in coming as close as possible. This one should be fairly close, albeit on a small scale.

He was, therefore, very surprised when Yagyuu, upon discovering what had been substituted for one of his books, merely flipped through a few pages of extremely explicit erotic postcards before tucking them back into his bag without so much as a raised brow. Masaharu was still trying to assimilate this when Yagyuu paced over to his desk.

"Niou-kun, if it isn't too much trouble, might I ask for the return of my dictionary?" Yagyuu asked, quite calmly.

When Masaharu actually processed the request, and the fact that Yagyuu seemed to have no intention of returning the postcards, he broke into a grin of utter delight. He produced the dictionary with a slight flourish.

"Why, of course, Yagyuu. You only had to ask." How wonderful. He did love a good challenge.

Yagyuu's resigned sigh as he accepted the book made Masaharu wonder for a second whether he had said that last out loud. But no. If Yagyuu had figured out who was responsible for the little trick so quickly, he likely knew just by Masaharu's expression what he'd let himself in for.

Masaharu whistled through the halls for the rest of the day.

Yagyuu surprised him again by inviting Masaharu to play a set with him after the tennis club's afternoon practice was done. He was not particularly surprised when Yagyuu won handily. Masaharu had already tagged Yagyuu as one of the strongest players in their year, short of The Miraculous Three. In another year, Yagyuu's speed ball would probably be unbelievable.

So Masaharu wondered, as they packed up, what the point of this game had been. Did Yagyuu not have his measure already? Given his obviously sharp observational skills that seemed unlikely. On the other hand, Masaharu knew that plenty of people were taken in by his rough and casual attitude. But this one was obviously no stranger to deceptive fronts, himself, if the go-round with the pictures was any indication. It was a puzzle.

Masaharu liked puzzles, too.

As they started off their respective ways, Yagyuu looked at him, glasses flashing and concealing whatever expression might be behind them.

"It pays to attend to the important things, Niou-kun," he said, in the tone of someone quoting an aphorism in Literature class. And then he was gone.

Masaharu's eyes narrowed as he looked after his classmate. So. If he wasn't mistaken, the point of the game had actually been to suggest that, not only was Yagyuu a better player, but that he was better because he did not indulge in unimportant things. Like, say, tricks and provocations.

Well then. Masaharu felt his lips curving in the smile that made even his friends nervous. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who liked a challenge?

Very brief experiment confirmed that Masaharu was unlikely to catch Yagyuu up on the tennis court. Not, at any rate, by conventional means. Yagyuu just had that extra edge of technique. So Masaharu settled down to observe and analyze, looking for other means. And if no one else knew what to make of the brilliant grins he occasionally couldn't help bestowing on Yagyuu, that was fine with him. This one would last him for months, possibly even years.

That was the part that no one seemed to understand. Yes, Masaharu loved his tricks just for the waves they caused. But the deception or manipulation itself was only the tail end of the thing. The real heart of it was understanding; the trick was simply the proof that he had understood correctly. And, of course, stirring people up made for even more opportunities to observe and understand. It was Masaharu's own awareness of how central understanding was that allowed him to turn it around—to conceal himself while indulging his taste for unsettling people. Most of the time it was lamentably easy.

Yagyuu Hiroshi was not easy to understand. Nor was he easy to unsettle.

Masaharu thought he just might be in love.

So, he checked off on his mental list, sex didn't so much as make Yagyuu blush. Encouraging his admirers, which Masaharu spent a week doing to great effect, didn't discommode him in the least. He was unfailingly polite to the most shrilly besotted girls. Masaharu added "inhuman patience" to his list of Yagyuu's defenses.

After some consideration, and some more covert practice to pull it off, he played a set against Yagyuu while imitating his style and moves. That disturbed just about anyone, at least for a while. Yagyuu merely increased the power of his shots until his last speed ball blew the racquet out of Masaharu's hands. Irritated, perhaps, but not disturbed. Oh well. The exercise wasn't without a productive aspect; Yagyuu's moves were a nice addition to Masaharu's repertoire.

Indeed, he had occasion to use it within the week. Toshiyuki had it coming. Really, Masaharu considered it his duty to the club to keep that kind from getting too far above themselves. So, after spending the match hammering him with one drive after another, just as Toshiyuki was starting to get his stance right to return them, Masaharu gave him a curving slice instead. Wavering, attempting to shift his balance fast enough to return it, Toshiyuki stepped right on the stray ball Masaharu had spent half a game maneuvering him in front of.

Such a shame that the first years were so much laxer about collecting balls for each other than they were for the second and third years.

Toshiyuki went down hard and lay, wheezing. Masaharu sauntered to the net and propped himself on one of the posts.

"Are you all right?" he inquired, light and mocking.

Toshiyuki wheezed some more, and Masaharu watched with great satisfaction as he tottered over to the benches. Now, maybe, he'd shut up about what a great all around player he was going to be.

"Such an extreme measure was unnecessary, Niou-kun," Yagyuu's level voice said behind him. Masaharu tossed a look over his shoulder, and noted that Yagyuu's mouth was actually a little tight. Interesting.

"I only do things like that to people who really annoy me," he returned with a thin, lazy smile. Yagyuu's brow arched.

"Really?" he asked, all polite skepticism.

"Some people annoy me just by breathing," Masaharu admitted. He stretched, vastly pleased. Not only had the matter with Toshiyuki worked out precisely, but for some reason it had bothered Yagyuu.

Now, the question was, why?

Because Masaharu had used one of Yagyuu's moves to do it? It seemed unlikely, since it hadn't bothered Yagyuu when Masaharu had used them against him. But perhaps he didn't want anyone thinking that he had actually shown that move to Masaharu, that he had participated in any way in a trick like this.

Perhaps because it was a teammate? But Yagyuu had watched him pull things just as vicious on classmates and never blinked. Masaharu spent a happy moment recalling the rather lurid love confession to the teacher that he had inserted into the English homework Hidenori was called upon to read aloud. It would never have worked if Hidenori had been good enough in English to actually think about the content of what he was reading, but knowing that he wasn't was, after all, exactly why Masaharu had chosen that tactic. Did Yagyuu feel more protective of the tennis club than general schoolmates? Was that, perhaps, the reason he was so courteously distant toward them all, because otherwise he would care too much?

Masaharu was positive that Yagyuu's smooth front hid some kind of passion behind it. No one played tennis the way he did without passion.

When Masaharu knew what kind, then he would have the key to unsettle The Unflappable One.

They were all playing doubles, and Masaharu was getting bored. It was all Yukimura's fault. He had mentioned to the captain that, while the Regulars were well supplied with excellent singles players, their best doubles pair would be retiring soon, and wouldn't it be a good idea to find out who could be promoted to fill that space? And, before you could blink, here they all were, with a rotation drawn up to see who might play well with whom. Because when Yukimura spoke like that, all quiet and reasonable and commanding, everyone did what he said, including the captain, who, Masaharu couldn't help noticing, seemed a little afraid of Yukimura.

Masaharu spared a sneer, before hitting a surprise drive to set his current partner up with a nice, smashable lob. Surely, even Akashi couldn't miss that one.

Most of his partners were incompetent, and the others were boring. The only one Masaharu had enjoyed his game with was Jackal, because, after a very brief shake-down, he had settled at the baseline and prevented the other side from scoring and let Masaharu toy with their opponents to his heart's content. But he'd only gotten to play with Jackal twice so far.

It was times like this that he wished Yukimura wasn't so damn easy-going most of the time. Any trick that didn't involve tennis would roll right off that sunny charm he used to wind the club around his finger, and any trick that did involve tennis was right out of the question. If he tried it, Yukimura would probably have the nerve to give him instructions for improvement, after he finished mopping the court with Masaharu.

Never even mind that, if he did attempt to put something over on Yukimura, Sanada, who had no sense of humor Masaharu could detect, would skin him. Possibly for the purpose of making Yukimura a new pair of house slippers. Sanada was that kind of bloody minded, iron bastard, and anyone with eyes could see that he had a mother-hen complex over Yukimura. It went strangely with his hot temper, not to mention Yukimura's greater skill, but Masaharu figured that was probably half the point—Yukimura could harness Sanada's temper.

No, he decided, there was no hope for it. They were all stuck doing whatever Yukimura wanted. He aimed his last shot at his opponent's toe, which at least elicited a nice yowl, and sulked.

Well, at least he was in good time to watch Yagyuu play his next match.

Yagyuu playing doubles was a curious thing, to Masaharu's eye. After a couple weeks of doubles work, Yagyuu was getting a reputation as a frightening observer and analyst, because he tended to call aloud advice and directions to his partners regarding how to respond to the other pair. He wasn't up to Yanagi's level, but Masaharu would admit he did keep an impressive eye on his opponents.

The strange part was that he never seemed to so much as glance at his partner. Even if he was at the net, he seemed to know, without looking, where his partner was and what he was doing. He never said anything about that, which might explain why no one else had noticed yet; he just acted on the knowledge. Masaharu was fascinated.

Yagyuu's matches tended to go pretty quickly, since it was still first-years playing first-years.

The second-year keeping an eye on them apparently agreed, since he looked at his roster, shrugged, and flipped to the next day's page.

"Next!" he called. "Yagami-Ishida pair against Yagyuu-Niou pair!"

Masaharu blinked, and then smiled like a fox. His birthday present was here seven whole months early.

Yagyuu turned to look him up and down before shrugging minimally. "Perhaps you would be best suited to a forward position, Niou-kun?" he offered.

"Ever the gentleman," Masaharu laughed, moving up.

As the focus of the match descended on them, though, he stopped laughing. His eyes widened and his teeth set. It had nothing to do with his opponents, though they weren't too shabby a pair, and everything to do with what was standing behind him. Facing Yagyuu across the net he had noticed the intensity of Yagyuu's game, the flare of focus and passion pressed under the smooth glass of Yagyuu's manners and restraint. Playing on the same side as him was like standing next to a lightning strike. A charged, ringing atmosphere enfolded him. He could feel Yagyuu's presence in it, like a weight. When he slid aside, before Yagyuu even called it, to let a drive sizzle past, ending the first game, Masaharu shot a pleased look over his shoulder and got an edged smile in return. Whatever Yagyuu did to keep track of his partners, it made him less careful of his distant front.

Masaharu was absolutely exhilarated. He knew he was showing himself more clearly than usual, too, and couldn't quite bring himself to care.

They swept away the other pair in a whirlwind, and the second-year watching goggled a little until Masaharu gave him a sharp grin. Then he twitched.

"Winners, Yagyuu-Niou pair, 6-0," he announced a bit blankly.

Masaharu was laughing again, under his breath, as he and Yagyuu walked off the court. He was positive, now, that he was playing with fire by seeking to unsettle Yagyuu.

So much the better.

"See you later, Yagyuu," he murmured as they packed up. "Maybe we can play together again, some time."

TBC

Challenge - Chapter Four

Niou and Yagyuu settle into their partnership. Drama, I-3

It hadn't taken any time at all to figure out that the months between when the third-years retired and when the school year ended were a time when the clubs could reorder themselves. A time to establish the new pecking order before another crop of first-years arrived, and everyone pecked on them. The tradition was a bit disrupted, this year, but, with the tests past and winter thawing, Masaharu started keeping an eye out. It had occurred to him that some of the very most and very least perceptive among the newly senior second-years might try something with either Jackal or Yagyuu, hoping to establish themselves as superior before the tournaments started and the doubles team's win record made them untouchable. The mannerly ones were the obvious targets.

Masaharu didn't know whether he was pleased or disappointed that it only took one incident to warn all like-minded sorts off of Yagyuu.

He had been waiting for it, and was in good time to turn a sharp eye on his partner when Nishio accosted him.

"Just because you're a quarter of a Regular, don't think you can give yourself too many airs," the older student told Yagyuu, with a not very concealed sneer. "There are balls all over D court; clear them off so we can get more practice games going."

Now that Masaharu knew what he was looking at, it was easy to see the tension in Yagyuu's straight shoulders, the moment of hesitation and calculation over how much he would uncover himself by resisting. While the calculation was lovely, the hesitation wasn't at all what Masaharu wanted to see in Yagyuu. No, it just wouldn't do.

"You want a game, hm?" he asked, strolling past Yagyuu's shoulder. "That's good. It means you're free to play one with me. Aren't you? Senpai." He had called people bastards in a warmer tone of voice, and Nishio gaped a bit to hear just how contemptuously Masaharu was addressing him. Masaharu scooped up a couple extra balls and sauntered onto a free court. He only had to wait long enough for Nishio to realize just how many people had heard the exchange. Ah, pride. It was such a wonderful motivator. It backed people into such tiny, little corners.

He served fairly gently, but his first return sang past Nishio's ear, missing by mere centimeters.

"Damn," Masaharu commented, mildly, "I guess Yanagi was right when he said I needed to work more on pinpointing. My precision is definitely a little shaky. Glad you were around to help me with this. It's good to see senpai who take their positions in the club so seriously." He smiled, slow and cold, as Nishio's eyes widened.

It was an excellent game, altogether, Masaharu thought. And good practice, too. Yanagi really was right; he clipped Nishio several times when he hadn't intended to. Though, on reflection, toward the end that might have been because Nishio himself was shaking so hard. Still. He should be able to allow for that kind of thing.

Masaharu moseyed back to Yagyuu, and ran a critical eye over him. Good; the tension was gone. And, while Yagyuu shook his head at Masaharu, there was a tiny quirk to his mouth. Maybe next time Masaharu would be able to convince him to participate.

"You do realize," Masaharu murmured, "that you can be polite while still smashing them into jelly."

"I'll take that under consideration, Niou-kun," Yagyuu said, coolly.

Masaharu grinned, and saluted his partner with his racquet, before going in search of something inanimate he could use for practice. Moving targets could wait a little, perhaps.

"Niou."

Slightly to his surprise, Masaharu found himself stopping as if his feet had stuck to the ground. He'd heard Yukimura use his there-is-no-possibility-I-will-not-be-obeyed voice on other people; this was the first time it had been used on him. That absolute surety really did have a remarkable effect, he reflected, turning. Something about the harmonics went straight to the spine.

Yukimura was looking at him measuringly. Masaharu raised his brows.

"Was that entirely necessary?" Yukimura asked. Since he sounded like he wanted a serious answer, Masaharu gave him one.

"Yes."

A corner of Yukimura's mouth curled up.

"Succinct," he noted, before he sighed and laid a hand on Masaharu's shoulder. "Defend your partner; it's an admirable motive. And small lessons in caution will be good for everyone. But I will not have members of my club harmed."

Masaharu thought about the way Yukimura had phrased himself. There were some interesting possibilities embedded.

"And if it takes more than a little lesson to get the point across?" he asked, testing. Yukimura's eyes narrowed and darkened.

"Then tell me. Our team will win; any member of this club who cannot support that goal wholeheartedly does not belong here."

Masaharu was lost, for a moment, in admiration of Yukimura's subtlety. Their vice-captain would not, of course, condone injury to those under his command. Of course, once someone left the club, that prohibition would no longer apply. And then Masaharu could do whatever he felt was called for. And everyone would toe the line when word of that got around. He'd been right earlier in the year; Yukimura did understand him. In fact, he chose, knowingly, to use Masaharu's games, like Sanada's temper, to his own ends. Masaharu appreciated that kind of playing with fire.

"Whatever you say," Masaharu agreed, easily. Yukimura's expression turned dry as he let Masaharu go.

"Come on," he directed, "I'll serve to you for your target practice— make it difficult enough to be worthwhile."

For several reasons, Masaharu was happy to note that not all the new first-years were inclined to roll over for the older students. Still, he had to wonder about the extent some of them took it to.

"What's up?" Marui asked, as he and Jackal arrived to find just about the entire club gathered around a single court.

"One of the first-years challenged Yanagi, Sanada and Yukimura, right in a row," Masaharu told them. "Have to admit, the kid has guts. Not too many brains, maybe, but plenty of guts."

"He's still standing?" Jackal asked, sounding intrigued. To date he was one of the few who could manage that feat; Masaharu swore he had extra lungs tucked away somewhere.

"Yes. He's actually very good," Yagyuu noted. Yukimura's return flashed past his challenger's foot. "Not good enough to win," Yagyuu added, "but quite skilled."

"Yanagi drove him absolutely frothing mad," Masaharu put in, "but the kid actually got one game off Sanada. The iron face unbent enough to look a bit impressed."

The first-year didn't quite manage to finish the game standing, instead sprawling full length on the court in a futile effort to return Yukimura's last serve. That did not seem to stymie him, though, and he raised burning eyes to the victors and spat that he would be the best.

"I think Niou was right about the guts to brains ratio," Marui commented, punctuating his judgment with a bubble.

"He will be an impressive player, though," Jackal pointed out.

Masaharu grunted in response, distracted by the flash of red in the first-year's eyes. That was different. An anger reaction?

"He will be joining us," Yagyuu predicted, quietly. When the other three turned to him in surprise he nodded toward the court. "Look at Yukimura-san."

Sure enough, while Yanagi looked contemplative, and Sanada looked saturnine, just as usual, Yukimura had the gleam in his eyes and the faint curve to his mouth that meant he had found something interesting. He stepped over the net, took the newcomer's wrist and pulled him to his feet.

"Try, then," he answered the boy's assertion. "I'll look forward to it."

The first-year seemed a bit taken aback by this approval. Or, Masaharu thought, perhaps by becoming the focus of Yukimura's full attention.

"I believe Yagyuu is right," Jackal said, thoughtfully. "I only hope Yukimura can keep such a wild player in hand."

"That," Masaharu predicted in turn, "will not be a problem."

Later in the day's practice, he tracked down Yanagi.

"So, O Master of All Data, who's the kid?" he asked, slouching against the fence next to their data wizard. Yanagi looked amused.

"I take it Yagyuu noticed Seiichi's interest?" At Masaharu's sidelong look he added, "The chance is about eighty-five percent that he will correctly gauge what Seiichi is thinking at any given moment."

"One of these days," Masaharu sighed, "I'm going to get used to you doing that."

"Our challenger is Kirihara Akaya," Yanagi told him. "He has some impressive experience already. His greatest weakness at present is his temper, as I expect you noticed." Now it was Yanagi's turn to shoot Masaharu a sideways look; Masaharu grinned into the distance. "He will be a good addition to the team, if he can gain some control and refine his skills. I estimate the latter will take six months."

Masaharu made a note of the fact that Yanagi did not hazard a guess how long the former might take.

This year's round of tournaments had finally started. And Masaharu was bored again.

"Yagyuu-Niou pair, 6-0!"

"When are we going to get a decent challenge?" Masaharu grumbled as they fished out water and ignored their totally unnecessary towels.

"These are only the district preliminaries, Niou-kun," Yagyuu pointed out. "I doubt there will be much, here. Are you in such a rush to court the possibility of defeat?"

"What?" Masaharu tipped back his head to grin at Yagyuu. "I want to see my partner shine. Where's the crime in that?"

"Most codes of law would likely consider it to lie in your definition of 'shine'," Yagyuu noted, but his tone was light.

"Do I want to know what you two are talking about?" Marui asked, as they watched Sanada tearing through his opponent like a tall, dark bandsaw.

"See? Marui wants to see too," Masaharu blithely reinterpreted, ignoring the sudden choke that had Marui scraping bubblegum off his nose. "And we do have one more team to play today..." He trailed off, suggestively.

"Hmm." Yagyuu looked down at him, and Masaharu would have laid odds that his eyes were glinting behind those glasses. "I suppose they are our opponents, after all. Perhaps, a little."

Marui eyed them both for a long moment before declaring, "I want to be very clear that whatever is about to happen is not my fault in any way."

Masaharu smiled at him broadly enough to make him edge toward Jackal. "Of course not."

Masaharu was aware that the bounce in his step as they moved to their next match was drawing attention. He didn't care in the least. Though he did have a bad moment when Yukimura drew them aside just before they went out. He wasn't going to stop them, was he?

"Niou, I think it would be a good idea if you let Yagyuu set the pace of this match," Yukimura suggested. Masaharu gave him a patient look. It was abundantly obvious that their vice-captain was, tactfully, saying he didn't want them to draw this match out the way Masaharu had been doing in an effort to entertain himself.

"You know, you could just say you don't want me to play with my food," he pointed out.

Yukimura laughed. "I'll remember that," he promised.

"Is there a particular reason we should take this one quickly, Yukimura-san?" Yagyuu asked.

"This is one of the stronger teams here," Yukimura told them. "It would be a good thing, both for Rikkai as a whole, and for the doubles team in particular, if you were to make an impression, here."

Masaharu and Yagyuu looked at each other. Masaharu chuckled. Yagyuu adjusted his glasses.

"Of course," he murmured.

"Enjoy yourselves," Yukimura told them, with the sharp smile he wore when he played.

Masaharu could barely hide his glee as he observed the subtle relaxation in his partner, shoulders looser, breath deeper, head higher. The bright, furious sense of Yagyuu's presence pooled around him, charged the space between them, snapped across the net to lick at their victims. Masaharu shivered, delighting in it.

When Yagyuu let go, the smoothness of his front turned fluid and hot as molten glass, and, even if it burned to touch, Masaharu loved to immerse himself in it.

They took the set, 6-0, in a glorious sweep of speed. And Masaharu almost laughed out loud when Yagyuu congratulated their opponents, quite straight-faced, on a good game.

"What did I tell you?" he asked, as they strolled back to the benches. "Jelly."

Yagyuu laughed, low in his throat, danger and fury satiated for the moment, leaving him languid until he regathered himself.

"As you say, Niou-kun."

It was probably a good thing, Masaharu reflected, that Yagyuu had clued the doubles team in about Yukimura's fascination with Kirihara. Otherwise they might have wondered what on earth their leader was doing spending so much time on a non-Regular now that the tournament season was in full swing. As it was, they quietly made space for him among them. Masaharu, in particular, liked to watch him practicing, especially with The Exalted Three. Admittedly, Kirihara didn't have Yagyuu's brilliant purity, when he let go. For Kirihara it was something more shadowed. But Masaharu enjoyed watching it all the same.

He toyed, for a while, with the idea that the kid genuinely was possessed. Whatever it was that happened, when his eyes went red, it both freed his reserves and seemed to detach his brain. Masaharu certainly couldn't come up with any other explanation for the way Kirihara played such a deliberately dirty game when he was like that, even against Yukimura.

Yukimura, of course, took it all in stride, though he'd had to have a word with Sanada to keep him from pounding Kirihara into a pulp the first time he'd seen it happen. Masaharu sniffed at the memory. As if Yukimura couldn't do it perfectly well himself, if he thought it needed doing. Though, he glanced at Yagyuu, standing at the fence beside him, he supposed there could be reasons for defending someone stronger.

This afternoon looked like a quicker match than usual. Yukimura was getting used to that sudden change in Kirihara's level, probably. In fact... Masaharu eyed the return shots Yukimura was making.

"Yagyuu," he said, on an inquiring note.

"Yes," his partner agreed, "Yukimura-san is reflecting Kirihara-kun's body shots, though he returns them just shy of actually striking. He's provoking him."

Masaharu whistled. If he'd ever doubted Yukimura had a cold streak, this would have disabused him of the idea. The last ball skipped between Kirihara's feet, and he stumbled to his knees and stayed there, panting and shaking, probably with anger. Yukimura came around the net, but this time he did not pull Kirihara back up. He knelt down in front of him, grabbed his chin, and forced his head up to meet Yukimura's eyes.

"You will never defeat me," Yukimura told him, low and sharp, "unless you can control that strength instead of merely letting it loose. Do you hear me?"

"I..." Kirihara swallowed with some difficulty, green gaze wide and clear, "I hear you, Yukimura-fukubuchou."

Yukimura nodded, and released him, dropping the towel he had picked up on his way past the benches over Kirihara's head.

"Remember it."

As he walked away, Masaharu and Yagyuu shared a look and moved toward the motionless Kirihara.

"You really managed to put your foot in it today, kiddo," Masaharu observed, mussing Kirihara's hair through the towel. Kirihara swatted at his hand and emerged with a petulant look. Masaharu shook his head. Half the time, being around Kirihara was like sitting next to a ticking bomb, and the other half it was like having a bratty but cute little brother. Possession really seemed as reasonable an explanation as any other. He hauled Kirihara over to a bench to clear the court.

"Will you listen to what Yukimura-san says?" Yagyuu asked, gently, passing over a water bottle. Kirihara blinked up at him, caught in the middle of drinking.

"Of course," he said, a little blankly, as if wondering what other course of action there could be. Yagyuu smiled, satisfied, and Masaharu chuckled.

"He's something else, isn't he?" he remarked, only a touch ruefully.

The three of them shared slightly sheepish grins before the captain called all the Regulars to gather around.

TBC

Water

Takes place during Chapter Seven. Sanada finds an opponent who can help him improve his game, and, perhaps, offer some much needed distraction from his captain's illness. Yanagi notes, in this, the possible start of a dangerous trend. Drama With Romance and Porn I-4

Sanada Genichirou had promised his friend and captain that their team would not be defeated while Yukimura was gone. After a very little consultation with Yanagi about the teams opposing them in the coming year, Genichirou had decided that, in order to keep that promise, some extra effort was in order. After all, while he knew he could take Atobe, he hadn't played Tezuka in a competitive match in years. The withdrawal of Seigaku's top player from this year's round of inter-school seminars and camps had rumors flying, but there was no solid information on just how disabled or not Tezuka might be, and Genichirou didn't believe in counting on luck.

No matter what that annoying little red-head from Yamabuki might say.

The problem, of course, lay in finding an actual challenge he could advance against. In theory, the high school division welcomed juniors who wanted to improve their skills, whenever time was available; in practice Genichirou was already better than most of them and it would be bad for morale to flaunt the fact. The street courts were useless. Genichirou, personally, thought most of the "professional trainers" were even more so. And it was frowned upon, to track down players from other schools and challenge them outside of competition.

That left the tennis schools, where he might hope to find another talented player or two looking for the same thing he was. And, in fact, luck did appear to be with him, there, as his current match demonstrated.

Sasaki Kouji was definitely a worthwhile opponent. The fact that he was also the current captain of Rikkai's high school team gave Genichirou the pleasant feeling that Rikkai's standards were being held up by someone besides his own team. Sasaki's play was fast and sharp, precise in a way Genichirou rarely saw, and powerful enough to overcome even his strength, so far. It was exactly what he needed.

Sasaki, too, seemed to appreciate a challenging opponent. He treated Genichirou almost as a team member, offering pointers when Genichirou seemed stuck over some particular move, and goading him when he flagged. Genichirou thought well of his dedication, which clearly extended beyond Sasaki's own team to encompass a player who would never be his to direct.

In a way, the absolute effort that Sasaki demanded whenever they played was a break for Genichirou. It left no room for worrying about anything else, pushed down even his fear for Yukimura under the simple focus on the ball, the court, the person across the net.

And if Genichirou felt just a touch guilty, afterwards, for letting himself forget, he needed those brief interludes of peace too desperately to stop. So he just pushed himself harder, gave himself even more totally to the focus of the game, strove that much harder to match Sasaki.

He was getting there. He could see it in Sasaki's own game. He recognized the way Sasaki's eyes brightened, the closer he came, recognized the smile he saw today on his opponent's face, the sudden lightness of Sasaki's movements, calling him, daring him. He recognized his own willing response, his answering speed, recognized the passion that reached over the net to touch his opponent's game.

He recognized it... from playing Yukimura.

The thought snagged in his mind, and the shock of it caught at his feet. The last ball whizzed past a good fifteen centimeters from his racquet.

It didn't help at all when Sasaki pushed back dark, feathery hair with an impatient hand, and gave him exactly the same look Yukimura did when he thought Genichirou was behaving foolishly in some way.

"What was that about, Sanada-kun?" he asked, in the voice of a captain demanding an explanation of his best player.

"Excuse me, Sasaki-san," Genichirou said, as evenly as he could. "Perhaps I'm more tired today than I had thought. Would you mind if we ended here?"

Sasaki gave him a skeptical look, but nodded, letting him keep his silence on whatever the problem really was. That perception and forbearance just twisted Genichirou's heart more sharply, and he withdrew as quickly as he could, leaving Sasaki gazing after him in obvious speculation.

Seiichi...

Normally, at least of late, the visits Genichirou and Renji made to Seiichi were a time when nothing outside the three of them intruded. Today, though, Genichirou found himself rather distracted, despite the fine almost-spring afternoon and despite Seiichi's returning strength, and it had probably been too much to hope for, that Seiichi wouldn't notice it. His observation was sharpening again, as he regained control of his body.

"What are you thinking about?"

Definitely too much to hope for.

"Just a match I played recently," Genichirou answered, trying to stay casual. Which only went to show that he wasn't thinking particularly clearly just then, because Yukimura always wanted to know about interesting matches.

"Who were you playing?" he asked.

"Sasaki Kouji," Genichirou told him, taking an interest in the view out the window.

"The captain of Rikkai's high school team," Renji noted. "How did you arrange a match with him? I thought you decided to stay away from the high school practices."

Genichirou sighed. "You remember the tennis school I started dropping by last month, to see if I could find some stronger players? He plays there too, sometimes."

"Have you won yet?" Yukimura asked, a bit of sparkle lighting his eyes. The implicit assumption that Genichirou would win, sooner or later, made him smile back at his captain for a moment. Then the memory of the match returned to nag at him, and he turned his gaze out the window again.

"Not yet."

"Genichirou." Seiichi was watching him more narrowly, now. "What happened?"

Genichirou never could decide whether he preferred Seiichi's manner, who invariably drew whatever Genichirou was thinking out of him, or Renji's, who rarely asked since he could usually be assumed to know already.

"It..." he sighed. "When we played, he was... I just..."

Light fingers brushed over his lips, and Genichirou paused and looked up, startled, to see Seiichi laughing, quietly.

"Genichirou, you're sputtering," he said. "And while there's a certain rarity value to that, it doesn't tell me what happened."

Genichirou looked down at his hands. "When we played, he reminded me of you," he said, voice low.

Seiichi's brows rose. "My style?"

"No. Nothing that simple." Genichirou felt a sardonic twist curl his mouth. "His... brightness was like yours."

Seiichi was silent for a long moment. "And did it draw you, the way mine does?" he asked at last, softly.

Genichirou flinched. "Seiichi..."

"I can't think of any other reason it would trouble you, since I know you've been fascinated by other players' talent before," Seiichi continued, thoughtfully. "Or is it just that I'm not there right now?"

That was exactly what Genichirou had hoped to get away without saying. What could be more contemptible than seeking a replacement for a friend and lover when he was ill? Self-disgust twisted his stomach.

"Genichirou, you can think yourself into such ridiculous corners, sometimes," Seiichi sighed. "That wasn't what I meant."

Genichirou stared at him, disoriented by such a calm response. Seiichi shook his head, and leaned forward. His hand touched Genichirou's face, coaxing him down to a soft, lingering kiss, and Genichirou's arms found their way around Seiichi, with the helpless protectiveness Seiichi always roused in him. The sweetness of Seiichi's lips moving so gently against his almost made him shudder with how much he had missed his friend's presence and touch.

Seiichi finally drew back and ran his fingers though Genichirou's hair, looking serious. "Does Sasaki make you feel like this?" he whispered.

"No," Genichirou answered, without a shade of doubt or hesitation, and water-gray eyes smiled at him.

"Then I don't see anything to worry about. Have a little faith in yourself, Genichirou," Seiichi admonished. "It's no injury to me, if you want me there enough to see my likeness in other people."

Genichirou blinked at the astonishing common sense of that statement. Renji was laughing, softly, from the other side of Seiichi's bed.

"Seiichi, you have the gift of taking the single action that's more convincing than hours of reasoned debate could ever be," he said. Seiichi, still in the curve of Genichirou's arm, gave Renji a pleased look before continuing.

"As for the rest of it," he said, "you've always been taken up with other strong players, as I shouldn't have to remind you, after last year." Renji chuckled and Genichirou threw him a half glare. "If you want to go to bed with this one, as long as he doesn't presume, where's the problem?"

"I'm sure it would be good stress relief," Renji put in, absolutely straight faced.

That rated a full fledged glare. "Renji," Genichirou growled.

The hand Seiichi pressed over his mouth totally failed to muffle his laugh. That, alone, was enough to reconcile Genichirou to the teasing. He remembered far too clearly the day, not long after Seiichi had come off the respirators for the last time, that some doctor had said, a little too cheerily, that there was only a thirty percent chance of a relapse. He had held Seiichi for over an hour, while his friend shuddered with silent terror against his shoulder. The sight of Seiichi so broken had terrified him in turn, and he'd spent that night curled up in a knot while Renji stroked his hair until he finally fell asleep. Seiichi's smile was still far more fragile than he liked, much of the time, and if his spirit was recovering enough to laugh, Genichirou was content to be the object of fun for him.

"Is this what you've been so tense over?" Renji asked.

Genichirou shrugged agreement. Renji's hand settled on his shoulder.

"Perhaps next time I'll ask sooner," he said.

Which was as close as Yanagi Renji was ever likely to come to admitting that he had miscalculated the cause of Genichirou's reaction. A corner of Genichirou's mouth quirked up.

"That presumes you can get me to answer you," he observed, getting another chuckle from Seiichi.

Renji, though, only turned his hand up to brush the backs of his fingers across Genichirou's cheek. "You'll tell me, if I ask, Genichirou," he said, deep voice both soft and sure.

Genichirou wound his fingers through Renji's and closed his eyes, savoring the closeness of these two who were most important to him. Seiichi was right. Nothing could replace this.

And, now that he wasn't avoiding the thought, he could see perfectly well the glint of appreciation in Sasaki's eyes.

"A much better game today, Sanada-kun," Sasaki told him, clasping his hand over the net. "At this rate you might just overtake me by summer."

"That's certainly my hope, Sasaki-san," Genichirou answered, seriously.

"Hm. Don't work yourself so hard you forget to enjoy this." Sasaki smiled to take away any sting from the admonition.

"I doubt there's any chance of that." Genichirou didn't change expression at all, but Sasaki gave him a considering look anyway and he thought Sasaki had probably heard what hadn't been said.

"Really? When was the last time you played at one of the street courts, just for fun?" Sasaki challenged.

"A long time ago," Genichirou had to admit, as they packed up.

"There's a rather nice one down by my house," Sasaki said, lightly. "You might come check it out."

Genichirou almost laughed, less at the invitation than at the humor that lit Sasaki's pale gray eyes as he made it. The dance of euphemism and innuendo clearly amused him, and for a moment, Sasaki reminded Genichirou far more of Renji than of Seiichi. Genichirou shouldered his bag and gave Sasaki a direct look.

"I would like that."

"I hope you will, Sanada-kun," Sasaki said, voice suddenly much lower, and Genichirou's breath caught. Anticipation feathered through his stomach, as they left. He knew what the offer he had accepted was, knew what he was heading into, but the knowledge had not grown out of anything he had shared with Sasaki. Since they had staked their places together in their first year, he and Renji and Seiichi had traded pieces of themselves back and forth like good books, reading each other's histories and fantasies and footnotes, and pleasure had simply been another added chapter. By comparison he barely had a nodding acquaintance with the man walking beside him. This felt... reckless. Impulsive.

He found, however, as he let Sasaki escort him through a quiet house to a bedroom painted in rather fanciful swirls of green, that he didn't care.

When Sasaki slid a hand around Genichirou's waist, and stroked his hair back with light fingers, Genichirou also found that there were some lines he had to draw for his own peace of mind. He caught Sasaki's hand in his, stilling it as it slipped down his neck.

"Sasaki-san," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I don't... I don't think I can take this if you're gentle."

Sasaki's brows rose, and he studied Genichirou for a long moment. He freed his hand and lifted Genichirou's chin the little bit necessary to put them eye to eye. Genichirou returned his gaze, unflinching.

"Who is it?" Sasaki asked, at last. "The one who's gentle with you?"

Now Genichirou closed his eyes, briefly. "Seiichi. Renji."

After a blank moment, Sasaki blinked. "Yukimura and Yanagi?" he asked, and chuckled when Genichirou nodded. "Well, I suppose I owe Nishiki an apology, not that I intend to tell him so. I thought he must have been hallucinating when he said the three of you were together that way." Then his thumb brushed against Genichirou's jaw. "I remember hearing that Yukimura was ill this winter."

"It's getting better," Genichirou said, with no expression. "He can breathe on his own again."

Sasaki inhaled sharply, eyes widening. "That bad?" he asked, softly. When Genichirou nodded again, silent, Sasaki's mouth tightened. And then he pulled Genichirou against him, paying no mind to his stiffness, and, abruptly, Genichirou was too tired to bother with reserve. After a moment's hesitation he let his head drop to Sasaki's shoulder.

"Sanada," Sasaki said, eventually. "Why are you here with me, instead of with them?"

All the reasons tangled together in Genichirou's throat. He laughed a little as he decided on the simplest answer.

"It was your game. Yukimura calls it my strongest weakness, that I get so focused on other strong players, sometimes so focused it hurts my own playing. And you... you're so bright when you play. I touch that through the game, and I want to reach out to it outside of the game too."

"But not gently?" Sasaki asked, a smile in his voice.

Genichirou lifted his head. "Not gently," he agreed.

Sasaki's gaze turned more serious. "I don't like the idea of hurting you, Sanada."

"Good," Genichirou said, one corner of his mouth quirking.

Sasaki threw his head back and laughed. "So," he said at last, tone turning speculative, "rough and slow, then?"

Genichirou felt heat wash over his entire body, and tried not to think about the fact that his face probably showed it. He nodded, and Sasaki's lips curved. His arm tightened, sharply, around Genichirou, and Genichirou shivered a little at the unaccustomed sensation of a larger body pressing against the length of his. Sasaki wasn't, he supposed distantly, really that much taller or significantly more heavily built, but the difference was noticeable like this. And it sent a jolt down his spine when Sasaki's hand tipped his head back before kissing him. The hard demand in it called out a longer shudder, and Genichirou's hands closed tight on Sasaki's back as he answered, opening his mouth under Sasaki's.

He gasped when Sasaki's teeth closed, sharp and stinging, just under his ear, and groaned, sagging against Sasaki, when he sucked there. This was the intensity Genichirou wanted just now, and he threw himself into it and let it close over him, pressing into Sasaki's touch.

Sasaki slipped around behind him, one hand moving between Genichirou's legs, kneading roughly. Genichirou's knees weakened at the sudden rush of sensation, and his hips bucked into Sasaki's hand.

"Or, maybe, not so slow," Sasaki laughed in his ear, undoing Genichirou's pants and sliding a hand inside to touch skin. Genichirou could only moan in answer, leaning against Sasaki as his fingers closed tight and stroked Genichirou hard.

There was barely enough left of his thought process to raise his arms, when Sasaki tugged his shirt off, and those calloused hands skimming over his hips to push down the rest of his clothing drowned that last bit. When Sasaki turned him to face the wall, Genichirou simply leaned on his forearms, trying to recover his breath and listening to the faint rustling behind him.

His breath left him again when he felt the heat of Sasaki's body against his back, and Sasaki's hand, slick, rubbing against his entrance. True to his word, Sasaki was slow, not seeking to press further yet, but his hand was not gentle. He worked his fingers hard against Genichirou's muscles until Genichirou was almost clutching at the wall, moaning at the tingling burn as he opened under that demanding touch. He arched his back, pressing his hips against Sasaki, inviting, and Sasaki accepted. Thumbs spread Genichirou apart as Sasaki pushed into him, slow but unstopping, a long, hard thrust that pressed him full and left Genichirou panting.

"Good?" Sasaki murmured.

"Yes," Genichirou gasped. "Sasaki..."

He lost whatever he had meant to say when Sasaki's still slick hand wrapped around his cock and pumped. His involuntary jerk moved Sasaki a little out of him, and then Sasaki surged forward, chest pressed into Genichirou's back. Not slow any longer, he drove into Genichirou, pounding him against the wall, only Sasaki's own hand, stroking him so roughly, pulling him back again. Genichirou lost himself in the harsh rhythm, hearing his own voice without knowing what he was saying, feeling only the heat and pressure of Sasaki's movement, the swelling rush of pleasure that surged up like a wave and threw him down so hard he almost lost awareness completely.

Leaning about equally on the wall and Sasaki's arms, Genichirou waited for his breath to calm and his pulse to settle just a little before he tried to stand on his own. He could feel a roughness in his throat that told him it was probably a good thing no one else seemed to be home. He heard the same roughness in Sasaki's voice, when he spoke, though his tone was contemplative.

"If I were the only one you were with, I would be more concerned about what you want from me. But I have to admit," he said, running a hand over Genichirou's shoulders, "there's an attraction in someone as strong as you asking for something like this. Was that what you were looking for?"

"Yes," Genichirou murmured.

"Good." Sasaki nipped at the back of his neck, tugging a low noise out of Genichirou. "Let me know the next time you need to be distracted from the world, then."

Genichirou turned, slowly, to look at Sasaki. He was sure he hadn't actually said that that was why he was here, when Sasaki had asked. How did he manage to draw, and be drawn to, such overly-perceptive people? On the other hand, he could hardly deny the truth. So he nodded.

"Thank you."

Genichirou expected Renji to tease him, and, indeed, there were a few comments on the statistics of "early maturation" delivered perfectly deadpan. He did his best not to react, silently blessing his previous practice. It took a while for any other side effects to catch up to him, but they did so with a vengeance the day Renji touched his arm as they were heading out to afternoon practice.

"Genichirou, did you do something to your shoulder?"

"No, why?" Genichirou asked, paying more attention to the start of a match between Akaya and Yagyuu.

"Because it looked like you had a bruise," Renji told him.

Genichirou frowned, sifting back through the last few days for anything that might have caused...

Oh.

He had no idea what expression might be on his face, but both Renji's brows were lifted.

"Genichirou?"

"I'll tell you later. Not here," Genichirou said. After a long moment of scrutiny, Renji accepted that, and moved off.

Genichirou managed to get through practice and all the way home before Renji's patience ran out.

"All right," Renji said, rather clipped, as he closed the bedroom door behind them. "First of all, show me."

Genichirou suppressed a sigh, pulling off his shirt and turning to let Renji take a look at his back. For all the other two might say he was the most overprotective of them, he thought that Renji won hands down once he made a decision to interfere. It just didn't happen very often. Light fingers brushed his skin.

"It seems to be along the bone of the shoulder," Renji reported. "It doesn't hurt?"

"I didn't even know it was there until you told me," Genichirou assured him.

"It probably helps that it's your off hand side. Now. You obviously know where it came from."

Renji, Genichirou reflected, had a talent for demanding information without asking a single question. "It's probably from yesterday, when Sasaki took me up against a tile wall," he said, evenly.

The silence behind him turned resounding.

"Renji..." he started, only to break off as Renji's arms came around his waist. The body at his back was shaking with silent laughter. The strain of suppressing it showed in Renji's voice, too.

"I suppose it's a good thing no one else noticed, while we were changing, then. Can you imagine their expressions...?" Renji broke off, burying his head in Genichirou's shoulder and laughing out loud.

Genichirou growled, wordlessly, and Renji managed to get himself back under control.

"Just be careful, all right?" he said, more seriously.

Genichirou looked back and raised a brow at him.

"I know you can take care of yourself, Genichirou. I mean more than that. Your penchant for violence; it's stronger, lately. Be careful how you handle it." Renji's arms tightened around him.

Genichirou turned in those arms to take Renji's shoulders. "Renji. You can't think I would let it spill onto us."

Deep, hazel eyes looked at him quietly. "I know you wouldn't, normally. I just worry about how much pressure you can take."

Genichirou drew Renji close against him. Yes, Renji was definitely the more overprotective one. "You worry too much," he said, softly, in Renji's ear. "Let me show you?"

"You and Seiichi, and your language of actions," Renji murmured, the laugh back in his voice. "How did I wind up with two such terribly direct people?"

"If I'm so direct and unreflective, you can hardly expect me to have an answer for that," Genichirou pointed out, and closed his mouth on Renji's earlobe.

"Very direct," Renji sighed, leaning into him. "I suppose it has its merits."

It was Genichirou's turn to laugh.

Renji let Genichirou undress him, smiling tolerantly at the care he took. Genichirou had to admit, he didn't often go this slowly, but today he found himself wanting to keep things... tranquil. He knew he wasn't the only one who had been under pressure, nor the only one who still was. He wanted to relax and reassure his friend, to see him stop worrying for a little while. Renji seemed almost bemused, as he lay back on the bed, that Genichirou was spending so long just stroking him, as if to memorize his skin or map the body he already knew.

Renji closed his eyes with a low sigh as Genichirou licked, slowly, at the inside of his wrist. Genichirou knew it was one of Renji's more sensitive spots, and lingered over it. And over the space just under Renji's lowest rib. And the arch of his foot. When he tongued the delicate skin behind Renji's knee, it drew out a soft moan, and Genichirou smiled.

"Enjoying yourself, Genichirou?" Renji asked, archly. The effect was, perhaps, a bit spoiled by the fact that he was spread out, naked, in bed, but not by much. Genichirou was impressed all over again by Renji's poise. He stretched out beside Renji and kissed him until his mouth relaxed from its sardonic curl.

"Enjoying watching your body calm because of me?" he murmured. "Yes, I am."

"Such a taste you have for getting your own way," Renji teased, smiling more gently.

"Now there's a case of the pot and the kettle," Genichirou commented, nibbling on Renji's ear again. "You're every bit as headstrong as I am, Renji, for all you prefer manipulation to force."

"Mmmmmm. It's hard to argue when you're doing that," Renji breathed.

"Then don't. The subject will keep for later." Genichirou kissed him again, slow and deep. "Turn over?"

Renji obliged, stretching out on his stomach, and purred as Genichirou trailed fingers down his spine. The sound he made when Genichirou nipped at his rear was considerably sharper. That was one of the sensitive points his partners didn't get around to as often.

When Genichirou spread him open and ran a soft tongue around his entrance, Renji's hips flexed into Genichirou's hands and he muffled a rough moan against the sheets. Genichirou coaxed Renji with his tongue, teased and soothed him by turns, until Renji was panting, hips raised and legs parted in a wordless invitation. Genichirou reached forward to close a hand around Renji's cock and stroke him slowly. The feeling of that lean, powerful body tightening under his touch, the sound of that cool voice heated and hoarse on the syllables of Genichirou's name, was deeply satisfying, and Genichirou nipped, gently, one last time so that he could watch Renji come undone in his hands.

When the last tension wrung out of Renji's body, Genichirou let him down and curled up against his back, pleased.

"You know," Renji murmured, drowsily, "I can tell without even looking that you have a smug expression on your face, Genichirou."

"Perhaps," Genichirou allowed.

"I'm afraid you'll just have to deal with my worrying, though."

Hadn't he been thinking something about overly-perceptive people, just a while ago, Genichirou mused. "Renji," he said, seriously, leaning up on an elbow and tugging his friend over to look at him, "tell me you don't honestly believe that I would deliberately hurt you or Seiichi."

Renji laid a hand along the side of Genichirou's face. "Never deliberately."

Genichirou relaxed again, and dropped back down to rest against Renji's side.

"Just be careful, Genichirou. Please," Renji said, quietly, against his shoulder.

Genichirou considered this. Obviously, Renji saw some danger, and considered it fairly likely, if he was willing to press Genichirou like this. And he had spent two solid years trusting Renji's calculations of these things. He ran his fingers through Renji's straight, heavy hair and nodded when his friend looked up.

"I promise."

End

Challenge - Chapter Nine

For Regionals, the team pulls out all the stops. Drama, I-3

As they started into Regionals, the rumor trickled down from Sanada to the rest of the team. Yukimura was considering surgery.

"Surgery?" Yagyuu asked, sharply. "For Guillain-Barre?"

"It is still fairly experimental," Yanagi admitted, slowly. "But his physical therapist recommended it, as an alternative, she said, to Seiichi hurting himself by pressing his rehabilitation too quickly."

Masaharu didn't know about the others, but he'd had to catch Yukimura from falling more than once, while spotting for his "light" practices, and had to carry him back inside twice. He'd watched the frustration his captain could keep out of his voice but couldn't keep out of his eyes, and shuddered to think what it must be like. For someone who had been in superb control of his body all his life, to suddenly find it unresponsive... well, it made Masaharu a bit more understanding with Sanada's temper and brooding moods.

That therapist definitely had Yukimura's number, he thought.

"If it succeeds, this would bypass much of the necessity for rehabilitation therapy, as much as ninety percent" Yanagi concluded.

"Is it dangerous?" Marui wanted to know.

Yanagi was silent for an ominous moment, before he sighed.

"No surgery is one hundred percent safe. In this case, though, the primary danger is not from the procedure itself. The problem is that the fact of the surgery, the new insult to the body, and the spike in immune reaction that follows, can trigger a relapse."

Double or nothing. Masaharu held that thought against the memory of Yukimura's eyes.

"He'll do it," Yagyuu voiced Masaharu's thought.

"It's still undecided," Yanagi cautioned, but there was little force behind it. He had seen it, too, Masaharu knew; the two who were closest to Yukimura could hardly help but see it.

When Fudoumine took Yamabuki in the second round, Yanagi and Sanada were sure enough of what it would mean to set the final lineups.

"Seigaku is the true threat," Yanagi told them, "they've put together a very strong team this year, and most of our preparation will be geared toward meeting them. I have little doubt we will; Midoriyama won't stand against them, and, while Rokkaku will likely give them a fight, I judge Seigaku the stronger. That does not mean that Fudoumine is negligible. Tachibana Kippei is a very strong player, and their team discipline appears to be extremely tight."

"They also," Sanada put in, "have a habit of front-loading their line-up when they have a strong opponent. Tachibana himself will almost certainly be in Singles Three; that was how they pulled the rug out from under Hyoutei. I will take Singles Three, to meet him for this match."

"Let me."

Everyone looked around to see Akaya sprawled on a bench, looking fixedly at Sanada.

"You got the last two fun ones, Sanada-fukubuchou," he said, with a crooked smile, "let me have this one."

"Will you listen to the mouth on him," Masaharu snorted, swatting Akaya lightly. Akaya pouted at him, and Masaharu shook his head. While Akaya still acted a lot like a totally mannerless kitten with the team, his series of effortless wins this season had given him an extremely contemptuous attitude toward any other players.

"Actually," Yanagi mused, "there could be some benefits to that."

Sanada cocked an eyebrow at him.

"For one, a real challenge will be good for Akaya," Yanagi pointed out, adding a quelling look as Akaya grinned. "For another, it would leave you and I free to take one of the doubles slots. I expect them to field Ibu and Kamio as a pair against us, and while I have little doubt any of our doubles combinations could take them, it would be well to be sure."

"And who, against their other doubles pair?"

"Jackal and Yagyuu, I think."

Masaharu wasn't the only one blinking at that suggestion. The other pair must be power players. Sanada nodded.

"Very well. We'll return to our usual line-up against Seigaku, so don't get too distracted."

Masaharu thought Yanagi worried too much. Or, perhaps, worried about the wrong things. Fudoumine was really fairly easy. The only true challenge was Tachibana himself, who had managed to trigger Akaya's rage, and became the proxy target for all the anger and uncertainty and fear Akaya had to deal with this year. Masaharu was actually quite impressed with the man; he'd managed to keep Akaya from injuring him too critically. Fudoumine would be back around for Nationals.

The one Masaharu was increasingly worried about was Sanada.

This had not been a good year for anyone, and Yukimura's illness, his long recovery, and his dangerous choice had driven down on their vice-captain harder than anyone else. It had compressed and darkened him, as if coal were being squeezed into iron instead of diamond. Masaharu didn't think he would snap, that wasn't in Sanada's nature; but that didn't make his stress and pain any the less. When they found out that Yukimura's surgeon could only schedule him in the same day that his team would play Seigaku in the final round of Regionals, it was really just the icing on the cake. And when their headstrong little Akaya managed to get himself into a match with Seigaku's Echizen Ryouma and lost, Sanada was finally infuriated enough to strike members of his team.

Masaharu admitted to a certain desire to throttle Akaya, himself. Just a little bit.

They all spent the last few days before Finals regrouping, planning. He and Yagyuu expected to come up against Seigaku's "Golden Pair", which might easily turn into a competition of coordination. They needed tactics to set those two off their stride.

The idea that wended its way into Masaharu's thoughts made him smile, probably not very pleasantly. If they pulled it off, and there was no real reason they shouldn't, it would do what they needed it to. And even better, from Masaharu's point of view, it would allow his partner to blow off some of the stress he had been accumulating. He didn't show it the way Sanada did, but that didn't make it any less dangerous.

"Yagyuu," he murmured, as they packed up, "do you remember that trick the two of us pulled last year?"

Yagyuu's hands paused. "Yes."

"It could be... useful, here," Masaharu suggested.

"Mmm," Yagyuu tipped his head to regard his partner. "The shock, and then the increase in power. Yes, that could be effective."

They shared a thin smile.

Yanagi had been right, Masaharu decided, adjusting the glasses he wore. Seigaku could be dangerous. Not enough to beat them, in all likelihood, but enough that he wasn't surprised by Sanada's order to play without the wrist weights. Yagyuu, of course, disregarded that, the better to hold his profile to Masaharu's. Just their luck that Sanada noticed.

When 'Niou' snarled at him, startled suspicion flared in their vice-captain's eyes. Masaharu didn't worry much about that; their team knew enough to keep their mouths shut. He'd been more worried that Yagyuu, released by wearing his partner's persona, would do more than snarl.

As the set got going, and Masaharu sank himself into his partner's place, observing, tallying, he spared a moment to be pleased he had always played such an unpredictable game. It meant there was little chance anyone not of their own team would realize that the way 'Niou' was manipulating Kikumaru depended on an absolute awareness of his partner's position and moves that was characteristic of Yagyuu. Not that it all went one way, of course. He heard what his partner was, silently, asking him to do, and shrugged to himself. If that was what Yagyuu's heart desired, well, it was certainly one way to end the set quickly. He returned hard and fast, watched Yagyuu place Kikumaru in the ball's path, watched their opponent fall.

The taunting repetition of Kikumaru's tag line was more vicious than Yagyuu usually let himself be, even when he let himself go. Masaharu was pleased that his partner had gotten this chance to express himself; who knew what might have happened if he'd bottled it up much longer.

Nevertheless, he was also pleased when Kikumaru recovered. Masaharu found it boring when targets just rolled over and died right away. Since he was being 'Yagyuu', he allowed himself to speak his complimentary thought aloud. The Seigaku pair got their second wind, and started pressing back, and Masaharu decided it was time to play their trump card.

Time to call his partner back.

The injunction to "play seriously", to play as himself, was met with a glare, but Yagyuu finally gave over and pulled out his specialty shot at full strength. It was clear to Masaharu that his partner didn't particularly want to take up his own, more circumscribed, identity again; he was distinctly grumpy about it. Masaharu sighed to himself. Clearly, they needed to have another conversation about the lack of conflict between politeness and grinding opponents to jelly.

The expressions on the faces of the Seigaku pair were everything he might have hoped for, though.

And, as planned, they never did quite recover their rhythm. It wasn't an effortless match, but it was a good, solid win, and Masaharu was happy with all aspects of it. All the moreso when he and Yagyuu returned to the benches, and he felt, brushing against his partner's shoulder, that a good deal of his tension had drained off.

Doubles handed off to singles, and Masaharu sat back to enjoy the last game.

Only it wasn't.

He had to admit to being deeply impressed with Inui Sadaharu. To give the appearance of wildness, always a lesser threat to a player like Yanagi, in order to set such a magnificent psychological trap definitely earned Masaharu's respect. For all that Inui looked like the perfect straight-man, Masaharu decided that here was another who deserved the title of Trickster.

That did not make the delay any easier to handle.

Nor did it make Yanagi's gesture of allegiance to Sanada's brutal focus, offering himself to the violence Sanada had increasingly used to drive his club and his team, any less painful to watch. Masaharu, for one, was relieved when Akaya intervened. Relieved, if not surprised, because anyone with eyes could see the way Akaya softened whenever he watched The Great Three.

Akaya could be very predictable in some ways.

Masaharu watched him driving Fuji to hit Akaya's trigger, releasing him. Watched, impressed, as Fuji pressed on despite what would normally be a completely incapacitating injury. Watched, with a bright shock of excitement, as Akaya's eyes cleared.

Watched Sanada's involvement with the match. Watched him smile, in spite of Akaya's loss, when he collected Akaya's unconscious form from Fuji and brought him back to his team. Yep, Sanada definitely had a soft spot for insane drive and ambition.

Masaharu thought they were all just a little on edge, watching Sanada play an unknown quantity. He knew for a fact that they were all stunned, watching Sanada lose, especially considering the come-back Wonder Boy had had to make. Masaharu briefly considered the possibility that the kid wasn't human.

The team looked at each other, a little bewildered. It was the first time this team of theirs had lost. The first time in sixteen years that Rikkai had failed to be first at Regionals. What now? Even the lax set of his partner's shoulders, the serenity in Akaya's eyes and, curiously enough, in Sanada's as well, didn't quite manage to distract Masaharu from the question he was positive was echoing through everyone's heads.

How were they supposed to tell their captain about this?

TBC

A/N: *mildly disgusted* The surgery mentioned in here has no basis in medical reality. While some of the therapies used to treat the critical stages of Guillain-Barre involve big needles, none of them that I have been able to discover involve invasive surgery. Most certainly none of them hold out any promise of repairing the damaged nerve-sheathes, which would be necessary for such a dramatic recovery of strength as Yukimura had. Canon, however, dictates a surgical procedure, so I did the best I could. My apologies for any egregiously bad science.

Temper

Yukimura apologizes to the teams his own injured, and picks up a challenge on the way. Drama, I-3

Yukimura Seiichi paced through the grounds of a school not his own, toward the practice area of a rival team, and reflected that his current errands in Tokyo would probably make a splendid case study of social interdependence. His illness had affected his entire team, and the pass-along effects had been substantial, to say the least. His return called on him to tie up far more loose ends than he would have expected.

Seiichi sighed to himself. Genichirou had wanted to come as well. Or, at least, he had said that he should come. But Seiichi could see the soul cramping discomfort in those level eyes, and had told him it was Seiichi's duty as captain. And then dropped a word to Renji to try and keep Genichirou busy while he was gone.

When Seiichi came to the edge of Fudoumine's tennis courts, he stood under the shadow of the trees and simply watched for a moment. The contrast to his own home courts was pointed. These were well kept, and the players on them energetic and dedicated. But there were only seven of them. No other club members played, or watched, or cheered. No coach stood beside the tall captain, watching from the sidelines.

Well, Seiichi reflected, with a self-deprecating smile, the official faculty advisor for Rikkai's tennis club didn't come anywhere near their practices, either, but from what Renji said Fudoumine's captain had chased theirs off far more vehemently than Seiichi had his own.

He had been aware that Tachibana Kippei was an excellent tennis player. Watching the team he had put together with no one's authority or guidance or support but his own, Seiichi was prepared to call him an excellent captain, too. It made the offense committed against him bite all the sharper, that it had threatened, not only a good player, but an entire team who were worthy of respect.

Interdependence. Without superb opponents, where was the point in being the best? If he could teach that to his little fire-eater before the year's end, Seiichi might call himself a good captain, as well.

At last, he sighed and stepped forward, calling out, "Tachibana!"

"Yukimura," Fudoumine's captain acknowledged, surprised. The heads closest to them snapped around, and Tachibana's vice-captain took a few quick steps closer. Seiichi stifled a sigh.

"If you have a moment free, I was hoping we might speak," he said.

Tachibana's brows twitched up, but he nodded. "Of course." He waved his team back to their practice, and stepped a little away from the fence. "You're recovered, then?" he continued.

"Yes," Seiichi answered, pleasure warring with remembered pain and current annoyance. From the shadow that passed over Tachibana's eyes, he saw all three. Seiichi smiled, just a touch wistfully; he would have liked to be present to have played this one. "And you?" he asked.

Tachibana's expression stilled. "Completely recovered," he said.

"That was actually why I came, today," Seiichi told him, quietly. "The actions of my team were unacceptable; both that Akaya would do such a thing, and that the others would not stop him." He bowed. "I apologize for them."

He was uncomfortably aware of Tachibana's surprise; it confirmed what he had suspected about the general behavior of his team while he was gone. It was a moment before the other captain managed to speak.

"It's well," Tachibana said, at last. "Please..."

Seiichi straightened, aware of the Fudoumine team, frozen on the courts until Tachibana cut a stern look at them.

"A dedicated team can sometimes let their determination lead them too far," he said, voice raised just a bit. Seiichi was rather amused to note the suddenly red faces of about half the Fudoumine team, as they all turned quickly back to work. He was sure there was a story behind that little admonition.

"Indeed," Seiichi agreed, with a tiny smile, answered by a wry glint in Tachibana's eye. "I'm glad you recovered in good time for Nationals. We hope to meet you again, there."

Tachibana's sudden smile was like sunlight after dark weather. He held out a hand, and Seiichi was pleased to find his grip sure and strong.

"Likewise."

Yes, this was a good opponent.

An approaching rustle culminated in a sharp exclamation of, "Rikkai!" A girl, about their age, was standing beside the courts, looking at Seiichi like she had found him under a particularly loathsome rock. If this was the younger sister he understood Tachibana had, he supposed he couldn't blame her too much.

"Ann!" Tachibana said, in almost exactly the tone Seiichi used when calling Akaya to order. Her growl had much more in common with Sanada, however, albeit in a higher register. Renji had mentioned that she was extremely protective of her brother and his people. Seiichi firmly suppressed a chuckle, as she stalked a little further down the fence after a last suspicious look at him, fairly sure she would bite him if he let it out.

"I should be going," Seiichi said, a bit regretfully. "There are other errands I need to run while I'm in Tokyo."

"Of course," Tachibana said. "I hope we'll meet again soon."

Well, that was the warm-up, Seiichi thought, as they parted with pleasantries on both sides. Now for what was likely to be the harder part.

Seigaku's courts were much livelier, and they spotted him coming. His name and Rikkai passed among the club members like wind through tall grass.

One distinct similarity, however, was the speed with which the players responded to the captain's dark look.

He and Tezuka were more familiar with each other than he and Tachibana, and Tezuka gestured Fuji over and received Seiichi's apology to them with no surprise. Fuji was, predictably, somewhat harder to read.

"Please, think nothing of it," he told Seiichi, with a very bright and entirely insincere smile. "Truly, I was pleased to be so instrumental in such a dramatic awakening as Kirihara-kun's. Though I'm sure I can't take too much credit. It must have been building for some time."

Seiichi's eyes narrowed. He had come here to render an apology, but he'd be damned before he stood still to be a source of entertainment for Fuji Shuusuke.

"I was equally pleased to see your own efforts finally become serious," he returned, tone even but clipped. "I trust it will not be merely a temporary advance."

Fuji's burning blue gaze was suddenly much more direct. If Fuji had implied that Seiichi's team was undisciplined and ill-trained, Seiichi had just come within two breaths of calling Fuji a coward.

Fuji had frustrated him at a distance for years. They had met several times, in the Elementary circuit. Powerful opponents were the heart of the game, to Seiichi, and it had been clear that Fuji could be very powerful. His elusive profile, however, had spoken to Seiichi of how little Fuji understood the exaltation of playing with everything one had. He would flash out with some gem of skill or discovery, and then refuse to follow it up. It had absolutely infuriated Seiichi, and after they started junior high, when his forlorn hope that Fuji would either shape up his game or withdraw had been dashed, Renji and Genichirou had had to listen to several extended tirades on the subject. He had itched to add Fuji to what Renji called his collection; had gone so far as to suggest that Fuji would find a place waiting for him if he chose to transfer. Seiichi had been sure that he could draw Fuji's real strength out. But Fuji had chosen to stay with Seigaku, and with Tezuka, and Seiichi had no choice but to grit his teeth every time he saw Fuji play, and accept it.

Nor could Seiichi say, now, that Fuji had been wrong to do so, watching the almost-glance he flicked toward the captain he had chosen.

"It will not be," Fuji answered, light tone gone from his voice, head high. A ripple of surprise ran through the Regulars who had edged close enough to hear the exchange. Tezuka's eyes, though, held only a bright, hard pleasure that showed nowhere else in his face or stance.

Perhaps that was the key, Seiichi reflected. Perhaps Fuji had needed the quiet of Tezuka's demands and the stillness of his brilliance rather than the blaze that Seiichi knew was his own when he set it free.

"We will all look forward to seeing it, then," he said, still a challenge but a gentler one. Fuji nodded, silently, and they both relaxed again.

"You have returned to play, then?" Tezuka asked, gathering the conversation back up with his trademark economy and grace.

"Good as new," Seiichi confirmed, and exchanged a look with Tezuka that glinted with anticipation. They had both, Seiichi rather thought, had enough of convalescence.

"Well," a new voice put in, "if you're all better, will you play a game?"

A muffled laugh escaped Fuji, as Tezuka's brow arched and his vice-captain, nudging back the other Regulars, clapped a hand over his eyes. Seiichi examined his challenger, who was unmistakably Seigaku's first-year prodigy, Echizen Ryouma. Sanada had had a good deal to say about him, mostly about his unquestionable talent and his stunning determination. Akaya, on the other hand, had said very little; merely that Echizen was really annoying, almost as much so as Fuji. Akaya's opinion took on a new edge, in light of Echizen's expression. It was familiar: cocky, assured, eager. Seiichi had seen one just like it last year, when a first-year had challenged the three best players in the club.

"Now I see why Akaya picked things up from you so easily," Seiichi murmured. "You remind me a great deal of him."

Fuji's laugh was no longer quite so muffled, and Echizen gave his senpai a look of Very Limited Amusement before he turned back to Seiichi.

"So?" he pressed.

Seiichi smiled, slowly, letting his focus settle on this one, letting the world narrow and sharpen. From the fire in his eyes, Echizen saw or felt that preparation, and leaned forward. Yes, this one was good.

"If your captain permits it," Seiichi agreed.

Echizen's expression, as he looked up at Tezuka, held neither a plea nor a demand—only the absolute certainty that his captain would understand. It was, Seiichi noted, far more effective than either of the other things would have been. A corner of Tezuka's mouth curled up, slightly, and he nodded.

As they set themselves on the court, Echizen called out to him.

"No holding back, all right Yukimura-san?"

"Of course," Seiichi answered

His first serve sang past Echizen's ear.

Echizen had very expressive eyes; even from across the court, Seiichi could see them widen, and then gleam. Echizen's stance shifted, and he was in time for the next ball. The corners of Seiichi's own mouth quirked up in answer to the delighted grin the boy shot him.

Sanada was right, Echizen was extremely fast, and remarkably strong for someone that small. Seiichi could hardly wait to see him on the high school circuit. More than that, he gloried in the game. Seiichi could feel the crackle of Echizen's awareness and excitement lacing into his own as he raised the level again and again, and Echizen gathered himself each time to meet the new challenge. The first time Echizen took a point, with that curious double-bouncing drive of his, Seiichi laughed out loud, and the sparkle in Echizen's wide, bright brown eyes laughed with him. Seiichi forgot care and convalescence, prudence and measurement, let himself go, and played full out, in love, for the space of the game, with the blazing spirit across the net.

Echizen lost three games to six, but his arrogance was undiminshed as he hauled himself to his feet and looked up at Seiichi, gaze as straight as his back. Seiichi offered his hand across the net.

"Next time you'll do better," he said. A goad, an invitation, a compliment. Echizen clasped his hand.

"Of course," he stated.

Seiichi became aware of the silence surrounding them, even the Regulars standing rather wide-eyed, except for Fuji, who looked reflective, and Tezuka, who gave Echizen a nod of approval, and Inui, who was writing. Seiichi realized that the skritch of pencil on paper was so familiar he hadn't even registered it. He sighed to himself; Renji would likely have a few words to say about playing full out in front of Seigaku's data specialist.

Seiichi found he didn't care in the least.

"I'll walk you out, if I may," Tezuka offered, nodding his team back to business. Most of them descended on Echizen first, who looked downright surly about the fact. Seiichi chuckled as they turned away.

"I take it you still have some reconditioning to do," Tezuka observed, as they walked.

"Mm," Seiichi agreed. "Quite a bit, I'm afraid. This was very useful though; thank you."

"Echizen needs good opponents to teach him," Tezuka said, quietly. "It was as much a favor received as a favor given."

"Perhaps," Seiichi answered. Names hung, unspoken, in the air. Akaya, driven, first by Echizen and then by Fuji, to reach past his easy strength to something truer; Sanada, reminded by Echizen of why they played this game; Fuji, roused at last from his detachment by Akaya's rage; Echizen, now given another goal to chase. Seiichi did not underestimate the need for and value of that last, especially for someone of such outstanding skill. The thought made him smile, though.

"You know, I think you've been replaced in Sanada's affections, Tezuka; he's very focused on evening the score with Echizen, just now," Seiichi mentioned, a bit mischievously.

Tezuka gave him a bland look that declined to rise to the bait. "Should I expect him in Singles Two, then?" he asked.

"Probably." They stopped at the school gates, and Seiichi gave Tezuka a direct look. "We can leave them to it, I think. It's time you and I met in a real game, Tezuka."

The shift was subtle, but distinct; the look Tezuka returned carried a pressure like deep water, and a knife of focus that cut away everything else in the world.

"Indeed," the other captain said, softly.

"...was not a well thought out choice, Seiichi," Renji concluded. "Sadaharu is perfectly capable of projecting your likely progress in the time before Nationals, and you don't really need to give Tezuka any advantages."

"Oh, come on, Renji, I was there to ask them to forgive the uncivil behavior of my team. Refusing a polite request would have undone half my work."

Renji gave him a long, steady look, leaning back in the desk chair. "And you couldn't resist the lure of a talented and passionate player," he sighed.

Seiichi smiled at his friend, entirely unrepentant. "And I couldn't resist the lure of a talented and passionate player," he agreed.

"It's a lost cause, Renji," Genichirou said, from the bed behind Seiichi's shoulder. "You know what Seiichi's like when comes to a good opponent."

"Yes, I do. And you're almost as bad," Renji pointed out, dryly.

"Renji," Seiichi said, softly, turning the other's face back to his. "It was magnificent." He drew Renji down to a kiss, seeking to share some of the exhilaration and joy Seiichi found in matches like today's. He thought he might have succeeded when Renji shivered under his touch and a choked sound caught in his throat.

"A difficult argument to refute," Renji murmured as Seiichi drew back.

"Then stop trying," Seiichi directed. "We're going to play them at Nationals. I'm sure of it."

He gathered up the other two by eye, calling silently for their fierceness to answer his, and when they did Seiichi smiled, content with the world.

End

A/N: I am no longer at all convinced that Yukimura would feel called to apologize for these injuries, any more than Atobe apologized for Tezuka's shoulder. The opponents chose to take the risks they did, even after seeing clearly what Kirihara was capable of, and I actually think Yukimura would consider it lessening his opponents' dignity to apologize. This was my best guess about him at the time, though, and I let it stand as such.

Need

Fuji visits Rikkai, hoping Yukimura can explicate a few things for him. Drama, I-3

It was one week before Nationals began that Fuji Shuusuke visited Rikkai. It took Seiichi a while to notice that one of the people gathered around the courts was wearing a different school's uniform; Fuji could be very unobtrusive when he chose. Fortunately, Seiichi spotted him before anyone else caught on. He had no particular desire to have any of his club embroiled in Fuji's idea of entertainment. He drifted to the side of the court and beckoned Fuji to join him.

His team noted his preoccupation and drifted after him. Seiichi was, in a general way, pleased with their sharp perceptions, and, in a specific way, exasperated with their nosiness, but he didn't stop them yet.

"Fuji," he greeted. "This is an unexpected visit."

"Mm. There was something I wanted to see, and something I hoped to discuss," Fuji said, elliptically. He smiled at Akaya, who bristled back. "Kirihara-kun; you seem to be doing well."

Seiichi could feel Akaya hovering on the edge of a challenge, and touched his arm to hold him back. They didn't need that in the middle of club practice. Fuji met Akaya's eyes for a long moment, and then shook his head turned back to Seiichi. Seiichi sympathized a bit more with Akaya's response, then. The impact of that silent look briefly pushed Seiichi himself over the edge, into the flickering fire of competitive awareness. He took a breath and settled back, examining Fuji with a captain's eyes again, aware of Sanada, tense, beside him. He wondered why Fuji, who normally only provoked those who were threats, was pushing like this.

Fuji, however, was smiling again, a smaller smile, a bit rueful. "Yes," he said, softly. "That's it. That's how he looks at me. Why, Yukimura?"

Seiichi blinked, as he tried to parse the question. 'He' who? Who would look at Fuji like... Then it clicked. Tezuka, of course. Who else would look at someone as strong and unpredictable as Fuji Shuusuke with that kind of measurement and anticipation and desire? But... Fuji wanted to know why?

"You don't know...?" Seiichi trailed off. It was clear in the steady gaze that Fuji, indeed, did not know. "Fuji," Seiichi sighed, running a hand through his hair. Still, he had been trying to wake Fuji up for years, now. Something he suspected Fuji had recalled, too. "I'll try. Come." He waved for Fuji to follow him, nodding for Sanada to take over in his place.

Sanada gave him a look that promised later discussion, and Seiichi stifled a smile. It always made Sanada just a touch edgy when people provoked Seiichi. He led Fuji under the clump of trees south of the courts, where they could watch without being obvious to those playing.

"So," he summarized, briskly, "you know how to provoke it, but you don't know what it is. Or how to answer it."

"I know what it is," Fuji corrected. "But, no, I don't know how to answer it; not from him."

"At this rate, you might just have well have accepted my offer for a transfer, last year. " Seiichi was finding himself a little annoyed at Fuji's assumption that he both could and would explain this thing after Fuji had spent years denying it.

Fuji's eyes slid to his, sharp, and his mouth was tight. Seiichi sighed, leaning back against a tree. That wasn't going to be productive, he knew.

"You'll have to excuse my temper, Fuji," he said, more gently. "It's just that you've suddenly come to me for help after having frustrated me for so long."

Fuji's head lowered just a touch.

"Yes," Seiichi answered the unspoken thought, frankly, "you probably frustrated him just as much, if not more." He thought about that for a moment, and continued, slowly. "And when he finally had evidence that you do understand what it means to play for real, after all, I imagine he asked you for a serious game."

"Yes," Fuji confirmed, softly.

"And he played against you in all seriousness," Seiichi speculated. A nod. "And it scared you, that he wanted you to do the same," he suggested, very quietly. Another nod, this one barely perceptible. Seiichi bit back another sigh. He would not, normally, compare Fuji to Akaya. Fuji was far more deliberate and analytical, and while he had some of the same propensity for violence, he had a far greater awareness of it and had channeled it far more tightly. This stubborn innocence, though, reminded him very much of Akaya.

"I don't understand what it is he wants of me." The words pulled out of Fuji, unwillingly. "I thought it was just for the team. For the Nationals. But it's more than that."

Seiichi waited. If Fuji really wanted his advice, he was going to have to have to come further out of that damn shell.

"He wants us to play full out, not against rivals but against each other," Fuji continued at last, reflective tone belied by his clenched fists. "I understand that he likes to play strong opponents. Even when he played Atobe or Sanada, though, I'd never seen him quite like that before."

"He hopes that you are stronger than he is," Seiichi said, as matter of fact as he could.

Fuji frowned, narrow, blue gaze fixed on his hands as he flexed them. "Ryuuzaki-sensei thinks I am," he murmured. "Or can be. But why...?"

Seiichi rubbed his fingers over his forehead. Perhaps he was grateful that Tezuka had been the one to win Fuji for his team, after all. He'd have gone mad, faced with such hesitance to understand for three solid years.

"We are the best," he stated. "What that means in practice is that it's very hard to find any opponent who can push us hard enough to make us advance, within our own age group. And," he added, flatly, "even in the next there aren't many." He leaned forward to meet Fuji's eyes. "Tezuka hopes that you will be a true challenge. One he has to reach beyond himself to meet."

The lingering confusion in Fuji's face made him want to bang his head against the tree. Try another tack, then.

"What do you want out of life, Fuji?"

Fuji blinked.

"What are your goals?" Seiichi rephrased. Fuji tipped his head to one side, caramel hair brushing across his cheek.

"To find interesting things," he said, at last.

Seiichi didn't doubt that for a second. Fuji and Niou would probably have gotten along very well, in a dangerous sort of way.

"Is there anything interesting enough to get you out of bed with an extra bounce, in the morning? Enough to make it worth driving yourself through pain and trouble for it? Enough that sometimes you think you would sell your soul and mortgage your breath for it, because it's so wonderful?" he prodded.

Fuji's eyes widened, as he watched Seiichi.

"That's what it's like, for us, Fuji," Seiichi murmured. "That's why we're the best. Because the shape of the game is the shape of our spirits, and there aren't words for the glory of a game that demands everything from us. And the only way to be true to the game is to always strive to be more within it." He leaned forward on his knees, taking Fuji by the shoulders, caught up by his need to finally make Fuji understand. "That's what Tezuka wants for you, too. That's why he's been trying to coax you or force you or, for all I know, bribe you to be serious these last years."

The normally bright eyes were blank and shocked, and turned inward.

"Did you feel it," Seiichi asked, more gently, "when you played Akaya?"

"If that's what it was," Fuji murmured. He shivered.

"If you take that path it will probably be even harder for you than it is for most," Seiichi told him, honestly. "You'll run into it, too, the craving for someone who can challenge you, who can share that vitality with you. And those will be few and far between."

Fuji nodded, closing his eyes. "I can see that." He touched Seiichi's wrist, lightly, and Seiichi let him go. "Thank you for explaining."

Seiichi's mouth quirked. "I can't say it was entirely altruistic."

A glint entered Fuji's eyes, and a razor smile curved his mouth in turn. "Good." He stood up. "I said it would not be a temporary advance. I meant that. What I found," he paused, "I'm not sure it's worth my soul, but it's certainly worth getting out of bed. And a fair amount of pain and trouble, too, I think."

"It's a start," Seiichi said, rising as well.

"Yukimura," Fuji was silent for a long moment, "will you play a game against me?"

Seiichi's focus sharpened with a snap he could nearly hear. "I would be delighted to," he said, with absolute truth. The club was leaving for the day; that would make things easier. He escorted Fuji back to the courts.

Sanada took a long look at each of them, and dismissed the team brusquely before moving to the side to call the game.

"He knows you very well," Fuji observed, sounding like he was stifling a laugh.

"This is something we share," was all Seiichi said, already immersing himself in the cool exhilaration of the moment. He felt Fuji's eyes on his back.

Seiichi pitched the game high from the very first serve, pushing Fuji, driving him to show his strength or be defeated immediately. He could feel, in the occasional unsteadiness of Fuji's returns, the other player's startlement, and his mouth tightened every time it happened. Fuji was too used to toying with his opponents, too used to slack competition who didn't raise the level until they thought they had to, too used to playing for the enjoyment of seeing his opponents' realization that it was far too late already. It was precisely the approach to the game that had infuriated Seiichi for years. He had wondered, for a long time, why a player as true as Tezuka allowed it to continue. But if Fuji had really never risen to Tezuka's challenge, before now, Seiichi reflected, what could his counterpart have done?

Well, Seiichi had an opportunity to do something, now, and he brought everything he had to bear on Fuji. And, finally, Fuji broke, broke open and flashed out at him, and it was Seiichi who was on the defensive. He recognized the still lack of expression on Fuji's face, the absolute concentration that had no time for such peripherals, and a fierce smile curved his own mouth.

When they hit a six game tie, Fuji faltered.

"Keep going," Seiichi called.

Still, Fuji hesitated, unnerved, Seiichi thought, by the intensity in both of them and unsure what it would mean to pursue the game to the end. Seiichi let his voice turn harsh; this was not Akaya, who would heed his gentleness.

"Do you want to do this, for yourself? For him? Do you want to be more in this game than a scavenger? A bully? Then keep going."

Fuji's head came up, and his serve whipped past Seiichi like a bullet.

"Better," Seiichi snapped, and sank himself, once more, into the immediacy of play and response.

Fuji won. Seiichi was slightly amused by his opponent's surprise. Fuji was still unused to playing full out, unused to playing on the edge where chance could decide a game. It would likely take some time for him to accept and own both his abilities and that space no one could control. Altogether, though, Seiichi was pleased, and said so as they shook hands.

"Thank you," Fuji told him. "I appreciate this, Yukimura. I should be getting back, now, though."

"And let me regather my team, who are probably peering out one of the second floor classrooms this very moment," Seiichi agreed, with a wry smile.

Sanada growled, and stalked past them toward the building. Seiichi chuckled as heads abruptly vanished from a window. He kept his grip on Fuji's hand another moment, though.

"It's the chance, do you understand?" he asked. "The opportunity to be more. It's something all of us treasure."

"I do understand," Fuji said, quietly.

Seiichi tilted his head. "Do you think this is something you can give Tezuka, even though you're on the same team?"

Fuji's smile returned, slight and thoughtful. "I think," he said, slowly, "it would be wrong if I didn't."

Seiichi nodded, satisfied that Fuji did, indeed, understand. "Welcome home, Fuji Shuusuke," he said, very, very softly.

End

The Continuation of War

A small snafu leads to some practice time between Rikkai and Seigaku, just before the end of Nationals. Drama, I-3

With one week to go before the last few matches of Nationals, it was clear that both Rikkai and Seigaku would be advancing. Seiichi was sufficiently pleased by this to give his team a little latitude when they acted up. He accepted that they needed to ease their anxiety, quite present, however concealed, before they could focus properly. As long as they didn't start any riots, or send his vice-captain into actual apoplexy, Seiichi was willing to be tolerant of their strutting and poking at opponents.

For Akaya to be completely missing when they were preparing to leave the tournament grounds was less acceptable.

"I can't find him anywhere," Yagyuu reported, the last of the team to regather after scattering to seek their errant junior.

Seiichi ran an impatient hand through his hair, wondering if Akaya had wound up on some other team's bus, which had happened a time or two when he was especially caught up in some debate with another player and failed to notice his surroundings. The amusing thing, after the fact, was that the other players failed to notice that they had someone else's team member in their midst. Akaya, when he was fully engaged with something, just seemed to lock attention that way. It had been one of the first signs Seiichi observed that Akaya had the potential to stand among the very best some day.

Sanada, having evidently followed Seiichi's line of thought, flipped his phone closed. "There's no answer," he said, though with an undertone of exasperation, because Akaya not answering was far from conclusive evidence that he was away from his phone.

"...can't find him anywhere, I'm afraid," a familiar voice said, behind them. "It isn't like Echizen to leave on his own."

Seiichi turned to see Fuji rejoining his own team, not too far off. "Echizen?" he murmured. He could almost hear Sanada's teeth grinding, beside him.

His doubles players exchanged looks. "What, again?" Niou wondered.

"It's Akaya," Marui shrugged.

Seiichi sighed, and called over. "Do I take it that your youngest player is missing, also?"

"Also?" Tezuka repeated. Seiichi nodded, ruefully.

Kikumaru flopped back against a tree. "Again?" he asked the leaves overhead.

"It's Echizen," Momoshiro pointed out, grinning, "you know what he's like."

"Not the concourse," Jackal put in.

"Not the east courts," Oishi added.

Renji tilted his head. "Sadaharu?" he inquired.

"Mm." Inui adjusted his glasses, thoughtfully. "Kirihara chose their location last time, correct?" Renji nodded. "Then I expect Echizen steered them to the last court at the back of the grounds; I recall him remarking that it wasn't used at all, today."

"Well, let's go, then," Sanada growled, the look in his eye boding no good to Akaya for putting them all to this trouble.

Both teams trailed in the wake of their captains, and, sure enough, found their missing members playing a lively game against each other.

"Akaya!" Sanada snapped, pushing the gate open. Akaya started, missed his step and then missed the ball. He scowled at the ball, lying against the fence behind him, planted his hands on his hips and scowled at his vice-captain, too.

"Sanada-fukubuchou, that was game point, and you made me miss it!" he said, irate. Then his eyes actually focused on the teams, gathered and watching, and widened. "Ah." He edged a step back from the glares of his teammates. "Is it that late, already?" he asked, a bit weakly.

Echizen was less obvious about it, but his tug on the brim of his cap reminded Seiichi irresistibly of a turtle, beating a quick retreat into his shell. The two truants shared a speaking look, and returned, reluctantly, to their teams. Akaya slipped by Sanada hastily, cast an eye over the others and apparently decided Renji was least likely to pummel him over this affair, because he sidled behind their data specialist. Echizen, for his own part, seemed resigned to being pummeled, but chose the source by moving quickly into Momoshiro's orbit. Seiichi was interested to observe the similarity of reactions, between his team and Seigaku's. Really, it wasn't all that surprising that their junior players had so much in common.

"Akaya..." Sanada started, pausing when Seiichi touched his arm.

"Wait, Sanada," Seiichi said, looking over at Tezuka. "They caused us some inconvenience, but the idea isn't entirely without merit."

He could see the calculation running behind Tezuka's eyes. "Nor entirely without precedent," the other captain noted, in return. Seiichi smiled. This would be useful for everyone.

"I'll call you about schedules, later, then, shall I?" he asked. Tezuka nodded, and fished out a scrap of paper on which he scribbled a number.

"Yukimura, are you serious about this?" Sanada asked, softly. His brows rose when Seiichi looked around at him and smiled, bright and hard.

"Entirely."

He and Tezuka decided that holding this particular training exercise at Seigaku would be best. Tezuka's team was still a bit... tense where Seiichi's was concerned, and, if they wished to take the edge of hostility off that tension, giving Seigaku the comfort of their home courts would help.

Seiichi didn't explicitly suggest that Tezuka arrange for his non-regular players to be absent, but was very pleased to see, when they arrived, that his hints about over-reaction and unfortunate senses of humor had been taken anyway. All the moreso, as Niou had been bouncing, subtly but bouncing all the same, all day, and Fuji looked dangerously cordial.

"You're sure you don't mind giving your opponents such a close look at your play?" Fuji inquired, solicitously.

Niou rested his racquet over his shoulder and bared his teeth in a gleaming grin. "Ah, but that only goes for some, doesn't it? What do you say, Fuji? A match between the unpredictables should be fun, shouldn't it?"

"Possibly," Fuji returned, less cordial and more level. Echizen shot him a very sharp look.

Seiichi tilted his head, considering, and didn't interfere. Fuji had a history of taking rather extreme revenge on anyone who injured one of those Fuji cared for, and Kikumaru certainly fell into that category. But he invariably did it within the parameters of the game. Niou had watched Seiichi push Fuji all out, and would not be surprised by him now. Nor was he likely to mind the score all that much, since his goal, to judge by the glint in his eye, was to prod Fuji rather than to win. Seeing how Fuji responded to that could tell Seiichi a good deal about Fuji's current mindset within the game.

Yagyuu, however, seemed to have other ideas. "Niou-kun," he said, stepping forward.

Niou looked at his partner, brows raised. Yagyuu made a small gesture with one hand.

"Oh, come on," Niou responded, tone scoffing. Yagyuu lowered his chin just a bit, not taking his gaze off his partner. Niou looked at him, at Fuji, back at Yagyuu. "You seriously think...?" he trailed off, staring intently at Yagyuu.

"Yes, I do," Yagyuu answered, quietly.

Niou pursed his lips and bounced his racquet on his shoulder a few times. "All right," he declared, at last. "But only," he stepped closer to his partner, "if you take him instead."

Now Seiichi wondered whether he should interfere. When Niou looked at Yagyuu with that shining intentness he was asking his partner to become very dangerous. And Yagyuu rarely refused him. On the other hand, Fuji was likely the only member of Seigaku, short of Tezuka himself, who could deal with Yagyuu when he really let go. If Yagyuu didn't mind showing himself like that, Seiichi decided, he would let it happen.

Yagyuu's lips quirked with amusement. "Very well," he agreed, and looked over at Fuji. "If that's acceptable?"

"Either will do," Fuji answered, a glint of intent in his own eye.

Seiichi suppressed a smile. Fuji was likely about to get a better workout than he expected.

"Well, I suppose he isn't the only tricky player Seigaku has," Niou observed, "is he?" and his gaze locked on Inui.

One of Inui's brows lifted over his glasses. "Interesting," he murmured, and stepped forward. Niou tipped his head and gave Inui a lazy smile.

"Though I'd like to watch their match first," he added, nodding at Yagyuu and Fuji. "Wouldn't you?"

"Quite," Inui agreed, easily, and the four of them moved toward the courts.

Seiichi felt Renji, beside him, quivering with suppressed chuckles. Seiichi couldn't blame him. Clearly, to use Niou's own phrase, Niou had Inui's number.

Seigaku's vice-captain stirred, looking after the departing players with a tense line between his brows.

"Shouldn't someone..." he started.

"They'll be fine, Oishi-senpai," Echizen interrupted.

"The way those two set each other on?" Oishi said, sharply. His junior gave him the look of someone with a great deal to say who can't quite decide where to start.

Marui snapped a bubble. "You don't get it, do you?" he observed. "Kind of strange, considering you work the same way."

"What do you mean?" Oishi asked, tightly.

"Sure, they set each other on," Marui shrugged. "But they also hold each other back. You really don't want to think about what they'd be like apart."

Oishi's mouth thinned. He didn't reply, though, and one of the other players stepped in.

"I was right, wasn't I," Momoshiro said, looking intently at Marui. "You're the analyst. You don't act like it very often."

Marui traded him a narrow look back. "You should talk."

Momoshiro opened his mouth, closed it, and grinned crookedly. "You want to see about it?" he offered, jerking his head at the courts.

Marui blew a contemplative bubble. "Sure."

"Speaking of your dynamics as a pair," Renji said to Oishi, as another two players headed for the courts, "would you be interested in playing a doubles match against Genichirou and I?"

Interesting, Seiichi thought. Renji implied that Oishi and Kikumaru participated far more equally to create the pace of their games than their reputation suggested. On the other hand, Kikumaru's expression, at that offer, was not the expression of someone who left all the strategy to his partner. He looked, in fact, rather like a cat who'd seen something interesting moving in the grass. After a final, dour, look in the direction Yagyuu and Niou had taken with their opponents, Oishi agreed.

A brief competition of demurral ended when Kaidou managed to defer to his senior and sent Kawamura off with Jackal, following to take the second match, leaving only the captains, Akaya, and Echizen unemployed. Akaya and Echizen, Seiichi noted, were eyeing each other sidelong, and edging away from their captains. He stifled a laugh, and glanced over at Tezuka to see a spark of amusement in his eyes as well. Tezuka looked at Akaya, then back at Seiichi, lifting a brow. Seiichi smiled, glancing at Echizen, and nodded.

"Kirihara," Tezuka called.

Akaya looked around, blinking. "Tezuka-san?" he answered, surprised.

Tezuka picked up his racquet. "Come play a match," he directed.

Akaya's eyes widened, and he looked a question at Seiichi. Seiichi came and gave him a small push in Tezuka's direction, setting his other hand on Echizen's shoulder.

"Go ahead," he said, gently. Akaya's eyes picked up a glitter of excitement, and he nearly skipped off in Tezuka's wake. Echizen shifted under Seiichi's hand.

"Do you want to watch them before we play?" Seiichi asked.

Echizen looked up at him from under the brim of his cap. "If it's all right," he said.

Seiichi smiled down at him. "I admit to some curiosity myself."

So they stood at the fence and watched. Seiichi noted that Akaya, used to the more vivid playing styles of his teammates, and of Seiichi in particular, had a difficult time adjusting to the deadly understatement of Tezuka's game. Akaya knew what was happening, Seiichi thought; he just couldn't quite wrap his intellect around it sufficiently to plan. But the pressure Tezuka was putting on him, at least, was familiar, and Akaya answered it without thinking.

"That won't last him very long," Echizen muttered, in the tone of someone who had reason to know.

Akaya seemed to come to the same conclusion after three games, standing still and looking across the net at Tezuka. Seiichi could see him wavering, wanting to reach for his own newfound strength but hesitant to engage it with a strange player. Seiichi sympathized; it was an intimate and precarious thing, to play full out in a practice match, and Tezuka did not make a show of being receptive to it. Ironic, Seiichi reflected, considering that Tezuka was actually one of the most passionate players he had ever met. From this distance, Seiichi couldn't swear to it, but he thought Tezuka's eyes softened in recognition of Akaya's dilemma.

"Come," he ordered, quietly, and Akaya responded to the familiar sureness, even in an unfamiliar voice. When he served to start the next game, heads turned across the courts, and Seiichi watched Tezuka's expression take on the fierce edge of a serious game.

"Not bad," Echizen murmured. Seiichi glanced down to see a bright grin hiding under his cap.

By the end of the match, Seiichi was sure Akaya had recognized what Tezuka was, had touched the searing fire hidden under the coolness. Tezuka's word of mild approval, as they shook hands over the net, painted the quick blush that Akaya hated across his cheeks, even as his chin came up, proud and challenging.

"Shall we?" Seiichi asked Echizen.

Momo and Marui leaned against the fence, watching the show two courts over. Momo smiled to himself.

"Just like Echizen, to nab a match with the best," he commented. Marui snorted.

"It's really no wonder he and Akaya keep after each other; I think they have a lot in common."

Momo cast his erstwhile opponent a thoughtful glance. "You know, Marui-san," he said, slowly, "all of you are acting really different, today."

Marui cocked an eyebrow at him. "Of course we are," he responded, easily, "Yukimura's back."

Momo blinked at him. That went beyond dependence, all the way to psychosis, in his opinion.

"He... means a lot to your team, then," he hazarded, a bit uncomfortably.

Marui's exasperated sigh produced a particularly large bubble.

"Look, Momoshiro," he said, seriously, "you've had a taste of what it's like to have your captain be gone, right?"

Momo nodded.

"Well, try this," Marui continued. "Imagine for a minute that, before that, he'd spent months in the hospital, on life support, and no matter how often anyone said that whatever was wrong wasn't fatal, none of you could quite believe it, looking at him. And then he was gone for more months, recuperating, supposedly, only you could see him breaking up because it was going so slowly. Just what," Marui stabbed him in the chest with a finger, "do you think that would do to your team?"

Momo did try to imagine it, and had to fight down a sick shudder at the thought of Tezuka-san unmoving on a hospital bed. Marui, watching him narrowly, obviously caught it anyway.

"Exactly," he said, leaning back against the fence. "I'd bet that vice-captain of yours would snap from the pressure, and that Fuji at least, and probably Echizen too, would go off the deep end, and no one would be able to control either of them. Because, in some ways, the composition of our teams isn't all that different."

Well, Momo had known Marui had an eye for analysis, and he'd certainly hit all of that dead on target. He swallowed a few times before he could speak.

"I'm glad for you," he said, softly. "That he's back."

Marui directed a one-sided smile across the courts to where his captain was serving.

"Believe me, I'm glad for us, too."

All right, so Masaharu had to admit that his partner might have had a point. While it would have been a lot of fun to prod at Fuji while he was in the mood to take heads, it was also possible that Masaharu would have managed, by doing so, to incur a much longer-term wrath than would be convenient to deal with. Yagyuu, on the other hand, was letting Fuji take out his snit and providing Masaharu with an absolutely beautiful spectacle in the process.

The scritch of a pencil beside him made him grin. He wasn't the only one enjoying the show, of course.

"Your partner demands more of Fuji than I expected he would," Inui commented.

"Yagyuu is a strong player," Masaharu replied, giving nothing. Whatever this counterpart of Yanagi's could extract from watching the flaring, prismatic brilliance of Yagyuu's destructiveness slipping around and between the colder edge of Fuji's he could have. But Masaharu didn't share that well, and wasn't about to freely add anything to that notebook.

As the game in front of them ended, Inui tucked away his pencil. "Shall we, Niou?"

Yagyuu, facing them across one of the benches, nodded over their shoulders with a smile. "Yukimura-san is playing," he told them.

The heads of both Seigaku players swiveled as if drawn on one string. Masaharu grinned with delight. Yagyuu was in excellent form, today. Dangling a choice between observing Masaharu and observing Yukimura in front of these two was the kind of casual teasing Masaharu indulged in himself, as an alternative to, say, chewing his nails.

It was nice to know he was a good influence on his partner.

When Inui drifted across the path to lean on the fence of the other block of courts, the others drifted after him. Inui, Masaharu noted, was drawn to the greater power.

Yagyuu laid his hand on the fence, and Masaharu watched his mouth soften. "It's good to know he's back," he murmured.

"It is," Yanagi's voice agreed, from beside them. The four who had been playing doubles one court down from them had also emerged to watch Yukimura's match with Seigaku's prodigy.

"Provided he doesn't get too carried away," Sanada added, and Masaharu thought he was serious despite the smile lurking under his cool tone.

Of course, considering what he and Marui were fairly sure had happened the last time Yukimura had gotten carried away, Sanada probably had good cause for a little purely personal caution.

When Yanagi gave Sanada an inquiring look, though, their vice-captain nodded toward Tezuka. Yanagi pursed his lips.

"You have a point," he admitted.

Ah, so it was Yukimura's competitiveness Sanada was worried about. Fair enough, all three of them were insanely competitive. Which made Masaharu watch with a rather ironic eye as Sanada and Yanagi strolled in the direction of Seigaku's captain, presumably in order to restrain their own. Nor could he quite hold back a snort when Fuji, after contemplating the conversation for a moment, followed them.

"So, Tezuka burns hot, too, does he?" he commented.

Oishi stiffened. "Tezuka," he answered, rather pointedly, "doesn't need anyone to govern his actions."

Masaharu cocked his head at the other.

"Someone's holding a grudge," he noted, mouth tilted. Oishi rounded on him, eyes flashing.

"You nearly sent my partner to the hospital, do you expect me to just let that pass?"

"We all know the risks of the game we play," Masaharu shrugged. "Or, at least," he added, eyeing Oishi, "I would hope we do."

"That was an irresponsible game!" the other player snapped.

"You be responsible for yours, and I'll be responsible for mine," Masaharu told him, bluntly. For a moment he thought Seigaku's famously even tempered and moderate vice-captain was about to take that simple truth as a challenge.

"Niou-kun," Yagyuu spoke, quietly, one hand coming to rest on Masaharu's shoulder. "There's a point in what he says. The match played out that way because of my loss of control." He looked at Kikumaru, watching the exchange with dark eyes, and then back toward Yukimura. "I believe I can assure you that it won't happen again, though."

"Really?" Inui asked from the other side of them, sounding merely curious. Yagyuu chuckled.

"There is a difference between losing control and setting it aside," he pointed out.

Oishi was still glaring at them, but Kikumaru stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest.

"Oishi. It's all right. Not," he cast a sharp look over his shoulder, "that I appreciated being woken up every hour that night. But I understand."

"But...!" Oishi started.

Kikumaru thumped him in the chest. "And so would you, if you thought about it for a second," he said, briskly, glancing at Yukimura. Oishi followed his eyes, and his mouth tightened.

"That isn't an excuse."

"Didn't say it was," Kikumaru pointed out. "I just said I could understand. Now come on. I want to play their other pair."

Oishi, after one last moment's resistance, gave in with a sigh and a slight smile, and let his partner drag him off.

"They're kind of cute," Masaharu said, placidly, and stretched. "So, Inui, you ready to play?"

Judging by Echizen's expression, he was less pleased by this match than their last, and Seiichi cocked his head, inviting Echizen to say whatever was boiling behind his eyes.

"I thought you agreed no holding back, last time," Echizen muttered, at last.

"I did," Seiichi agreed. "And I wasn't."

Echizen gazed up at him, skeptical, and then considering, and then his eyes widened, shocked.

"It was bad," Seiichi admitted. "And extremely frustrating; you'll find out the first time you're seriously injured."

He felt the shiver Echizen suppressed through the hand that still clasped his. Echizen shot a quick look at his captain before he looked back at Seiichi and nodded.

Seiichi was rather amused at Echizen's preoccupation, sufficient that he didn't seem to notice when he took the other half of the same bench Akaya was recovering on. When he did notice, he merely nodded.

"Good target you have," he commented.

"Mm," Akaya agreed. "Yours, too."

Seiichi choked down a laugh, seeing it's reflection in Tezuka's eyes. And then he had to stifle a surge of impatient desire. These were just practice matches, he knew that. He was sure Tezuka knew that, too. And he knew they really shouldn't play each other here, because once they got started he wasn't at all sure they would be able to stop. But he wanted so much to test himself against this one, and there was no guarantee they would play in competition, and he could tell from the shift in Tezuka's stance that he wanted to play too...

Genichirou and Renji came up on either side of him, and Genichirou's hand was on his back, calling for his restraint. Seiichi sighed.

"I know," he murmured.

He could still feel Tezuka's focus pulling on him, though, until Fuji moved, unhurriedly, past and brushed a hand over his captain's arm.

"Tezuka."

The others called them both back, back to being captains rather than purely competitors. Seiichi didn't resent it, and he didn't think Tezuka did, either, as the subtle tension eased back underneath his smooth surface. But he did wish, wistfully, for a chance to have it otherwise.

"So," Renji said, calmly, "if you've finished revealing Yagyuu for Sadaharu's edification, would you care for a match against me, Fuji?"

Fuji stiffened, as if at a threat. Seiichi supposed it had been, considering what long effort Fuji had put into concealing his style and his strength.

"Renji," Sanada admonished, "stop teasing him."

Renji raised his brows, as if to inquire what on earth Sanada meant. Seiichi shook his head.

"Come, now, Renji, where's your patience?" he asked. "If you can deal with Akaya you should be able to deal with Fuji."

Fuji gave him a downright indignant look. Tezuka, behind him, had a hand over his mouth. Sanada gave Fuji a long glance, and turned a hand up.

"Perhaps you'd care to play me?" he suggested, shooting a quelling look at Renji.

Fuji only hesitated a moment before agreeing.

"Excellent coordination," Tezuka remarked, blandly, as they watched the two depart.

"Mm," Seiichi agreed, pleasantly. "It's often useful." Renji merely smiled, satisfied with their successful triple-team of Fuji.

Tezuka checked his watch, and called to the two on the bench, "Echizen! Kirihara! B court."

"Sure."

"Right."

Akaya blinked, looking surprised at his own prompt response. "Even sound the same," he muttered, as he and Echizen collected their racquets. Echizen glanced at Seiichi on their way by, and gave Akaya an eloquent look of disbelief.

"Wait till you hear it," Akaya snorted.

Seiichi laughed, quietly. He couldn't quite tell whether that had been a warning to him, not to stray too far into the habit of controlling Tezuka's people lest the favor be returned, or simply a return on the favor of caring for Tezuka's people. Or possibly both; that sort of efficiency would be like Tezuka. He watched Sanada starting to drive Fuji with the pleasure he always felt watching the very best show their mettle. And watched Fuji taking out his frustration in an unusually straightforward fashion with the pleasure of accomplishment. Frustration was not, however, a very sustainable motivation.

"I can push him over the edge, Tezuka," he said, not looking at his counterpart, "but he will need you to catch him when he falls. After so long refusing to fly, he's afraid of the sky now. Afraid to fly for his own sake."

"I know," Tezuka answered, and Seiichi winced a little at the pain lodged in that deep, even voice. Renji's fingers brushed his wrist, gently, supporting. Reminded of his friend's presence, Seiichi looked around at him.

"Did you actually have someone else in mind?" he asked, knowing Renji would follow his veer back to the subject of match partners.

"I expect Momoshiro to go looking for Niou soon; Sadaharu will be free then."

"Momoshiro and Niou?" Seiichi echoed, intrigued.

"Momoshiro has been showing a steadily increasing tendency to seek out other analytical players to measure himself against," Renji explained. "I believe he's beginning to know his own strength."

"And Inui, hm?" Seiichi added, with a twinkle up at his friend. "Does he begin to know his own strength, too?"

"Yes," Renji answered, softly, giving him a direct look back.

Having heard Renji's opinion, past and present, about Inui's greater facility as a singles player than a doubles player, Seiichi nodded, satisfied. It wouldn't do Renji any harm to remember that side of his own strength, so often overshadowed by Seiichi and Sanada.

"And there we are, right on time," Renji said, looking up. "If you'll both excuse me."

"You know," Seiichi mentioned, under his breath to Tezuka, "I'm starting to wish for a tape of today."

Tezuka's mouth quirked up.

Seiichi considered the day a productive, if tiring one, and his team was relaxed and easy with their opposition when he gathered them back up to depart. Better yet, Seigaku was considerably more relaxed as well, and he exchanged a nod with Tezuka.

Of course, that increased ease had side effects.

"So," Echizen interjected into the parting pleasantries. "If he's the Emperor," waving a hand at the startled Sanada, "what does that make him?" indicating Seiichi himself.

"Echizen..." Oishi sighed, exasperated. Sanada looked like someone fishing for the right words to express his outrage.

Niou, however, blinked slowly at Echizen, mouth curling.

"Why, Kami-sama, of course," he answered, quite matter-of-fact.

Now Sanada looked like someone trying to decide which target to char to a crisp first. Renji, however, was overtaken by a coughing fit that was in no way convincing. Inui and Fuji were both snickering, despite Tezuka's stern look, and Echizen was grinning. If it weren't for Sanada's ire, and the sudden, knotted tension in Oishi, only defused by Tezuka's quick hand on his shoulder, Seiichi might have let it pass; but the vice-captains were clearly neither of them in the mood for Niou's antics. So he touched Sanada's arm, stopping whatever explosion that deep inhalation was the preface to, and pinned Niou with a sharp look.

"Enough."

Niou blinked at the touch of steel in that order, and raised his hands placatingly. Seiichi nodded, accepting. He turned back just in time to catch the mildly impressed look Echizen threw at Akaya, and the 'told you so' grin Akaya returned.

There were days when Seiichi wondered whether he ran a tennis team or some kind of home for incorrigible boys.

"We'll see you this weekend, Tezuka," he said, and herded his team in the direction of their bus.

"So," Akaya said, smugly, as they filed aboard, "do I have good ideas, or what?"

Half the team pounced on him.

End

Fly

Side-story to the Challenge arc. Fuji finally plays a serious match against Tezuka. Drama With Porn, I-4

"If I become a hindrance, remove me from the team." Shuusuke looked over his shoulder with a smile, only to rock back on his heels as Tezuka's hands closed hard on his shoulders and shook him once.

"No. I will not." Tezuka's voice was harder than his hands.

Shuusuke frowned. Tezuka wasn't normally this demonstrative, no matter how angry he got, nor this blindly stubborn. "Tezuka..."

"I will not take you out. You have what it takes to win, Fuji, and you will use it. You will use it, or you will tell me now that you're quitting the team."

Shuusuke's head came up.

"You will not put this responsibility off onto me, Fuji," Tezuka said, so low his voice almost disappeared into the sound of the rain. "I say you can play seriously when it's necessary. If you don't believe that, then you're the one who's going to have to say it."

"And what makes you think that it's necessary against my own team?" Shuusuke asked, sharply.

Tezuka's brows flinched together, but his voice was level when he returned, "What makes you think it isn't?"

Shuusuke shook his head, helplessly. He couldn't; he just couldn't. Not again. "Tezuka, why are you pushing this?"

Tezuka was silent for a long moment before his mouth tightened and he closed the distance between them. Shuusuke stiffened, wondering for one wild second whether Tezuka would actually strike him.

Instead, Tezuka kissed him.

Shuusuke's thoughts dissolved in a swirl of confusion. This wasn't... they had only ever kissed once before, and that had been in jest. Shuusuke had flirted, on occasion, certainly, because it was fun to prod at his friend. In his own quiet way, Tezuka had prodded back, when no one else was around. This was not a joke, not when Tezuka's mouth had opened his and Tezuka's tongue was inviting him. This was serious. For all his confusion, though, Shuusuke liked the feeling of kissing Tezuka just as much as he had sometimes thought he might, and he leaned into it.

When Tezuka drew back it took a few moments for Shuusuke to find his voice again. "What was that?" he asked, at last.

"An answer to your question," Tezuka told him, soberly.

Shuusuke tried several different ways of fitting those parts together before he gave up. "What?"

It was hard to tell, behind the speckles of water on Tezuka's glasses, but Shuusuke thought his eyes turned a little sad.

"Never mind. We should go dry off, Fuji. Come on."

Shuusuke was terrified.

All right, perhaps that was a bit strong, but it had been a very long time since he'd felt this kind of tension. Even longer since he'd had butterflies in his stomach and shaking hands over a tennis match. He spent a moment wishing he'd made time to stop off at a shrine on his way here, and pray for this to go well one more time. He didn't think he could stand losing twice.

Not the game. He'd been losing games to Tezuka for years, quite cheerfully, at least until Tezuka started getting angry over it. Not the game, but the closeness.

Not again.

He'd been resigned, when his family moved, to losing the friends he'd had. He had never, for one moment, suspected that the move, and the new people he met at his new school, and the way their challenges had drawn his tennis out further than ever, would cost him his brother. The shock had almost killed his game for good. But he'd pulled himself together, and forced himself to trust that Yuuta would find his own way and his own strength.

He'd just been a little more careful, next time.

Care was not, apparently, what Tezuka wanted from him, though.

This was the first match he had played against Tezuka since that alarming one when Tezuka had come back from Kyuushuu. Shuusuke had managed to forget, until Tezuka's first lethal return in that game had reminded him, what Tezuka had told him before; he didn't just want Shuusuke to play seriously against other teams. He wanted Shuusuke to play seriously against everyone.

Shuusuke walked onto the court, reminding himself that Tezuka was not Yuuta. Which should be an obvious and intuitive sort of thing, but...

Shuusuke sighed. He could believe his fears or he could trust Yukimura's judgment. One or the other. Because if Yukimura was right, and Shuusuke continued to refuse to play Tezuka seriously, he would lose Tezuka more surely than he had lost Yuuta for a time. If there was any justice in the world, his two fears should cancel each other out; after all, they could not, logically, both become true.

His stomach clenched in stubborn denial of logic.

Shuusuke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, working his hand around the ball he held. If he was going to play seriously, neither fear had any place here. He could not think of his opponent as his friend and captain. Another breath. And another. He opened his eyes and looked over the net to see Tezuka looking back at him... not like a friend and a captain. The brightness in Tezuka's eyes, the smooth tension in his stance—that was more the way he had seen Tezuka look at Atobe, at Sanada, at Yukimura. It helped.

Shuusuke set himself. He had to be ready for a return that would demand effort from him, immediately. He had to be ready to give that effort. He searched for the eagerness he had felt only a few times before, for the focus that only wanted to outreach his opponent. He thought it was there, ready for him, if he could just stop thinking and throw everything into the game.

"Everything," he murmured to himself, tossed the ball up and served. The return left him no time to think, and he felt his body start to relax.

It helped that he had faced Yukimura first. The speed and force of their volleys was not a total shock, and he was almost prepared to plunge into it.

Almost.

He wasn't sure anything could really prepare a person for this, for the shiver of fire down his nerves that said, yes, he could return that, he could drive this opponent back, he could win this if only he let himself burn.

And he did, one return after another, not just waiting for Tezuka's form to break, but driving him to show an opening. The game had its own momentum, played like this, its own rhythm; the pace wasn't in Shuusuke's hands, nor in Tezuka's. They drew each other on, faster and faster, until Shuusuke almost thought he shouldn't feel the surface of the court under his feet anymore. He felt like he was flying, like the fierceness of effort had lifted him up and thrown him forward.

The moment, when he saw the opening for the last shot, when the world crystallized into perfection and he couldn't possibly have stopped the stroke that smashed the ball home, felt like he was breathing sunlight, hot and beautiful and brilliant.

Tezuka looked at the ball, where it had rolled to the fence, for a long moment before he drew himself up. "Game and match, 7-6," he said, evenly, and turned back to Shuusuke. "Your match."

Shuusuke swallowed hard, coming down from the high of the game with a jar. Every anxiety he had shoved aside to play immediately assaulted him again, and he had no idea whether he succeeded in hiding his apprehension as he approached the net. He offered his hand silently, afraid to say anything at all.

A faint smile curved Tezuka's lips. "Good game," he said, clasping Shuusuke's hand firmly. Shuusuke searched his eyes; there was a light in them, bright and dancing, to match the pleasure behind that smile. Shuusuke's knees wobbled just a bit with relief. It was all right. Tezuka didn't resent losing to him. He really didn't, and it was really all right, even if his expression did bear a slightly unnerving resemblance to some of Echizen's...

Shuusuke cut off his own mental babbling with an effort, and fetched in a deep breath. He smiled at his friend. "You too."

The wobble in his voice betrayed every effort to control the one in his legs, and Shuusuke was lightheaded enough that this was terribly amusing. He didn't manage to choke back the laugh, either, and suddenly he was shivering and couldn't stop.

"Fuji." Tezuka's hands on his shoulders steadied him a bit, and Shuusuke leaned on him, trying to get control of himself.

"I'm fine," he assured his friend, aware that the undertone of giggles probably didn't make that very convincing. "I'm all right."

"I know you are." Tezuka didn't go.

Shuusuke took a few deep breaths and managed to convince his legs to support him again. "Did you expect this?" he asked, ruefully. He was almost positive Yukimura had spoken to Tezuka on the subject.

Tezuka raised a brow. "I expected a good game, if you ever chose to play me seriously."

Shuusuke's mouth quirked. There were times it was hard to tell whether Tezuka was answering his question or not. That was fine, though, it reminded him of something else. "You know, the last time we had this discussion, on this court, you kissed me," he noted.

Tezuka's eyes darkened a little. "I'm sorry," he said. "That had no place in our discussion; I certainly shouldn't have done it because I was angry. I wanted... to remind you there are things that require passion."

Shuusuke decided lightheadedness was a good thing; it let him act instead of watch and think and wait. He stepped closer, nudging the bottom of the net out of his way. "Would you like to try again?" he asked, lightly.

Both brows went up, this time. Shuusuke smiled and put a hand at the back of Tezuka's neck, urging him down. There was a certain amount of resistance, and Shuusuke expected Tezuka to be hesitant.

He wasn't.

He was slow and sure, and his arms, around Shuusuke's waist, were gentle. He kissed softly, as though he wanted to soothe the anxiety Shuusuke had refused to voice. Shuusuke's breath caught. Yes, Tezuka had seen it.

The softness was almost shocking, but a welcome shock. Shuusuke leaned into Tezuka, and a small sound found its way up his throat. After the burning flight of the game, and the stunning drop when it ended, he very much wanted something to ground him. This was not familiar. Neither of them had ever acted to see if there was anything beyond the teasing. But it was unmistakably Tezuka he was kissing, and that was familiar enough.

Though the setting could use a little adjustment.

Shuusuke drew back with an annoyed noise. "I want to get this net out of the way," he said, distinctly.

Tezuka's hands found his hips, stopping him. "Fuji, an all out game takes everyone like this, to one degree or another. You should wait until you can be sure."

Fuji burst out laughing, and not, this time, with hysteria. "Tezuka," he chuckled, "for a perceptive man you can be so dense sometimes." This received a rather cool look in response, and Shuusuke shook his head. Trust Tezuka to think first of the game and second of the fact that they had spent over a year dancing around this moment. It wasn't as though Shuusuke hadn't had time to think things over; he certainly hoped Tezuka had, too. "I am sure," he said, firmly.

Tezuka stilled. "Really?"

Shuusuke's lips curled up. "Exceedingly," he confirmed, and closed a hand in Tezuka's shirt to drag him down for another kiss.

This time, Tezuka met him a good deal faster. His arms locked around Shuusuke hard enough to rock Shuusuke up on the balls of his feet. Ah, good; he wasn't the only one who'd been considering it. This kiss was fierce and hungry, and it wasn't only Shuusuke's groan that echoed through it.

At least until the net intruded again. Shuusuke winced, and growled, "Definitely get the net out of the way."

They both pulled back, and stared at each other, silent calculation running back and forth.

"The showers?" Tezuka suggested, at last, and Shuusuke relaxed. He'd been a little afraid Tezuka would insist that acting on this would be disruptive to the team. Shuusuke didn't doubt for a single second that the good of the team would trump both friendship and lust, for his captain. The fingers drawing circles at the small of his back, however, promised otherwise.

"Wonderful idea," he agreed. And it was. It was a Sunday, no one else was around, and Tezuka, thanks to his several official positions, had the keys to just about every room in the school building. Shuusuke was hard pressed not to laugh as they strolled casually toward the changing rooms, not touching. What a delightfully irrational day he was having.

He had not entirely expected Tezuka to help him undress... if help was what it could be called. He supposed he should have, though. Tezuka never did anything half-heartedly, once he made up his mind. He leaned back against Tezuka, purring as Tezuka's palms slid over the hollows of his hipbones, pushing his waistband ahead of them, and reflected on the benefits of this tendency.

One of them was a marked decrease in Tezuka's normal reserve. When Shuusuke pressed against him, under the water, Tezuka welcomed him with no sign of hesitation or stiffness. Well, Shuusuke amended to himself, with a tiny grin, none aside from what there should be. He shifted a little, rubbing his hip against Tezuka, and savored Tezuka's quick breath and the fingers that dug into his waist. Tezuka definitely wanted him; it was nice to be sure. He leaned up to lick water off Tezuka's lips, and sighed as Tezuka's mouth closed over his.

To be sure, it was difficult to keep track of the soap while kissing someone, but they both had good reflexes. Still. Shuusuke tugged Tezuka a little out of the spray, so he wouldn't lose his lather and have to distract himself from the body tight against his to hunt for the soap again. He stroked slick hands down Tezuka's back, tracing skin and muscle, and laughed a little at the nubby roughness of a washcloth over his own shoulders. It was a pleasant almost-scratch down his spine.

Shuusuke's hands reached Tezuka's rear and moved down, feeling Tezuka's muscles flex and tense. Shuusuke slid his fingers between Tezuka's cheeks and pressed against him; Tezuka's teeth closed on Shuusuke's lower lip, and Shuusuke made a low, approving sound.

The sound became a moan as the washcloth moved down and rubbed over his own entrance. The rough cloth made him tingle, and Tezuka's fingers, within it, pressed hard, circling, until Shuusuke's body opened to that touch, just a little. Shuusuke clutched at Tezuka, pushing up against him, and Tezuka's hand settled into small nudges that still made Shuusuke's breath skip. His fingers flexed against Tezuka, and Tezuka bent his head to Shuusuke's ear.

"Next time."

Shuusuke laughed. "Promise?" he asked, voice husky with the tension low in his stomach.

"Yes," Tezuka answered, so unequivocally that Shuusuke knew this was one of the times Tezuka was answering more than one question. He promised that there would be a next time. Good.

"Then yes," Shuusuke whispered.

Tezuka's hand, in the cloth, pressed harder again and Shuusuke wondered for a moment whether Tezuka was going to drive all the way into him with that tantalizing roughness. But the cloth drew back, and Tezuka's bare fingers touched him, slick and fast, and sank into him before Shuusuke's body recovered from the change. Shuusuke groaned as his muscles caught up and closed, working tight around Tezuka's fingers. He was glad that Tezuka moved them only slightly, at first. Shuusuke wound his arms around Tezuka's shoulders and leaned against him as those fingers stroked slowly in and out of him. He wasn't sure whether their kisses distracted him from the sensation or added to it; whichever it was, it was good.

Tezuka's tongue was in his mouth when the fingers inside him curled and Shuusuke barely had the presence of mind not to bite down. Fire flared up his spine, liquid and bright. Again. Again, and Shuusuke jerked against Tezuka's body. Never mind slow. Never mind careful.

"Tezuka," he gasped, rough and breathless, "now."

He nearly howled with frustration when Tezuka's fingers stilled. "Are you sure you're ready?" Tezuka asked.

His voice was admirably solemn, but Shuusuke had known him long enough to be fairly sure he was being teased. "Tezuka," he growled, narrowing his eyes. "I'll remember this."

A slight quirk to Tezuka's mouth gave the lie to his serious tone. "I would hope so."

Shuusuke snaked a soapy hand between them, and closed it over Tezuka's erection, pulling a sharp, uncontrolled sound from him. "Now," Shuusuke demanded.

Tezuka chuckled a bit unevenly, and slid his fingers out with a last flirt that left Shuusuke's knees weak. "Turn around, then."

Shuusuke braced his hands against the tile wall, voicing a pleased murmur as Tezuka moved against him. He breathed carefully, biting his lip as he ordered his body to relax around the hardness pressing into him. Another breath. Another. There was a twinge, and Tezuka was inside him, and Shuusuke's breath left him.

"All right?" Tezuka asked, sounding a little tense.

"All right," Shuusuke assured him. It ached, a little, but the openness and the warmth of Tezuka's hands smoothing up and down his back overrode it.

The openness, especially. Shuusuke pressed back a little; he wanted that feeling deeper inside him. Tezuka took the hint. He dropped a kiss on Shuusuke's shoulder, licked the moisture from his skin on a path up the side of his neck, moved forward, slowly. Shuusuke's breath broke into pants, and he shivered, glad of Tezuka's hands on his hips, steadying him. It felt open and full and hard and, above all, hot. Tingling, sparkling heat, rippling out from that marvelous place Tezuka's fingers had found. Tezuka's hips met his, cradling them, and then he was pulling back. Pressing in. Back. In. Slow and open and hot.

It was overwhelming, and Shuusuke wanted more. He reached between his legs, stroking himself, and moaned at the added layer of pleasure, brighter, smoother. It wound around the hardness of Tezuka inside him, and Shuusuke's hand tightened, quickened. Tezuka matched his movement, and Shuusuke cried out. This was the rhythm he wanted, and his body recognized it, moved with it, quick spasms rocking him against Tezuka's thrusts, driving his hand down. Heat coiled around him, tightened, tightened again, and he felt Tezuka driving into him raggedly, thrust against his own grip harder, felt the tightness snap. The fast, tingling heat exploded through him, and he felt himself bucking against Tezuka, straining into the tide of fire until it ran out.

Little details returned slowly. The tile was cold against his hand. His legs were shaking a bit. Tezuka's arms were around him, holding tight, and Tezuka's breath was hard against his ear. Slowly, they drew apart and came together again under the water, leaning on one another. Neither of them spoke, as they finished washing, trading the soap back and forth silently. Shuusuke didn't mind; he was used to quiet from Tezuka. They dried off still in wordless, comfortable familiarity. Though, again, not total familiarity. He smiled when he emerged from toweling his hair and felt Tezuka behind him, combing fingers through it.

"I was never entirely sure how serious you were, you know," Tezuka said, tone musing. "About any of it."

Shuusuke's smile twisted wryly. "Hard for anyone else to be sure when I wasn't sure myself."

"Are you now?"

"Can you tell now?" Shuusuke asked, half teasing.

Tezuka's hands slid down to his shoulders. "Yes." It was half a statement and half a demand, and maybe a hint of a question.

"Yes," Shuusuke agreed, softly. Yes, he was serious, now. About all of it. The idea still scared him, just a little, the idea that he might not be able to back away from this thing he had found in himself when he let go and played with everything. But it really was incredible. And with Tezuka... He shivered. "Tezuka..."

Tezuka pulled him around and kissed him, a fierce, burning kiss. Shuusuke let other considerations fall by the way for the time being and answered him very seriously indeed. It truly was appropriate that unleashing himself on the court had washed away his hesitation to close the last distance with Tezuka. He rather suspected it was what Tezuka had been waiting for. They were both breathing quickly when they parted.

"Ah, now, this time I understand you," Shuusuke murmured.

Tezuka smiled.

End

Circle

The long awaited last match of Nationals. Drama, I-4

Seiichi smiled when he saw the lineup Seigaku had settled on. He wasn't surprised to have been right, but it was still satisfying to know for sure.

He ignored the chatter of the spectators around him and turned back to beckon his team. They gathered around, in a circle of concentration that shrugged off the excited speculation eddying past them. Seiichi's smile changed, undiluted pleasure added to the satisfaction. It was the last round of Nationals, and they were ready.

"We were right," he said, without preamble. "They put Oishi and Kikumaru in Doubles Two, and Fuji and Kawamura in Doubles One. Renji."

Renji nodded, and picked up the briefing. "They're targeting Jackal and Marui, it's clear. They hope to set the pace with the first match; it's a good move. Kikumaru has the best chance of returning your specialties, Marui. Be careful of that."

"We know," Marui answered for both. His eyes were sharp, but a little distant, the way they got when he was planning ahead, and Seiichi understood the concern behind Renji's hesitation. Seiichi also expected Jackal's faint smile and nod, though, reassuring them that he would be ready to ground his partner.

Niou sniffed, looking irritated.

"Oishi and Kikumaru are a responsible doubles pair," Seiichi noted, catching Niou's eye. "I'm not surprised that they accepted the needs of the team as a whole over their own desire to even the score from last time."

Niou returned his look, expressionless, for a breath, before breaking into a wicked grin. "I suppose it does leave Fuji for us," he allowed.

"Don't ignore Kawamura," Renji told him, a touch sternly. "He doesn't play with a great deal of finesse, but he has the raw strength to break past Yagyuu, and Fuji has the subtlety to save that for a decisive moment. If it weren't for the fact that we need both of them in singles, I would have recommended setting Seiichi and Genichirou against this pair."

Yagyuu's mouth tightened, and he nodded. He laid a hand on Niou's shoulder, as his partner started to say something else. "You won't really have any complaints about this match, will you Niou-kun?" he asked.

Seiichi almost laughed at that not-quite-question. To anyone who knew them, the very evenness of Yagyuu's voice was more suggestive than any insinuating purr, and Niou's eyes brightened at the implicit promise of mayhem.

"Singles will be Inui, Echizen and Tezuka," Seiichi picked up the account, stifling his amusement. "I think we all know what to look out for?"

Renji and Sanada nodded.

"And their alternate is Momoshiro. Which has a certain symmetry, if, as I suspect, he is the one chosen to be captain next year," he finished, raising a brow at Akaya.

Akaya seemed caught between blushing and snorting. "That's the only symmetrical thing. As if they would get far enough to play me next year," he said, settling on his customary arrogance toward outsiders.

"Watch you don't get too relaxed about that," Sanada said, sharply.

Akaya heaved a put-upon sigh. "Yes, Sanada-fukubuchou."

The entire team lightened a little at this byplay, easing into the balance they would need for the matches. It never ceased to astonish Seiichi that Akaya managed so consistently to finesse just the right tone without, as far as Seiichi could tell, ever being conscious of what he did. He hoped that Akaya would be able to manage the change in approach he would need, next year, when he was not the baby of the team but its captain. Now wasn't the time for that worry, though, and he glanced around, gathering up his team.

"Let's go, then."

Renji frowned a little, as he watched Jackal and Marui play. He didn't say it out loud, because it would be bad for morale, but the match was going exactly the way he had been afraid it would. It would be a close loss, but it would be a loss. Kikumaru and Oishi were playing the game too close to the net, making Marui do all the work, and it was distracting him from finding an opening in the other pair's play to exploit.

Renji was aware that Marui had good reason for his self-confidence, and that it was that confidence that kept him from calling Jackal to the front to help. Unfortunately, in this case, that confidence was about to draw Marui one fatal step too far. Renji would have preferred to say so, beforehand, to recommend that Jackal and Marui play more closely than usual, but Seiichi had thought otherwise. He had said their play would be more injured by lack of confidence and discomfort with a change in their style than it would by a close loss.

On reflection, Renji had agreed that overly conservative play had a ten percent higher chance of losing, in any case.

That didn't make it any easier to watch Marui wearing down, or Jackal starting to worry. Or to watch Marui finally call his partner forward from guarding the back, just barely too late to recover. Renji watched the last games play out silently. There were times, he thought, eyeing his friend and captain as Seiichi also watched, expressionless, when he thought Seiichi had a far colder streak than he himself.

And then Seiichi turned his head, and Renji saw the tension in the angle of his jaw and the shadows in his eyes, and changed his mind.

Seiichi stood as Marui and Jackal came off the court, and held out a hand to welcome them back. Jackal's shoulders straightened a little at that, but Marui dropped his eyes.

"Enough of that," Seiichi said, gently. "You did well."

"I got rattled and missed my judgment," Marui contradicted, frowning. "We could have taken them, if I'd just closed our formation up sooner!"

Seiichi suddenly had the waiting tension in every line of him that Renji saw whenever Seiichi had spotted a chance to hammer through his opponent's defenses and was letting it come to him.

Jackal closed a hand on Marui's wrist. "Bunta," he said, quietly, "are we a doubles pair or not?"

Marui looked up at him, eyes blank and wide. His mouth opened on what Renji calculated was almost certainly an Of course we are, and closed again. After a long moment, Marui smiled, a small, tilted smile more serious than he usually let anyone see.

"Yeah, we are," he said.

"Good," Seiichi told them, briskly. "Then you can both work to redress this weakness. Very few pairs will be good enough to put that kind of pressure on Marui, but you need to be prepared to shift the way you support each other when it does happen. Trust each other enough to break your usual style when it's holding you back."

Jackal and Marui both nodded.

"I'll expect to see you take them, next time," Seiichi said, smile sharp and uncompromising.

Renji, satisfied that Seiichi had those two well in hand, looked over at Seigaku. Kikumaru was still bouncing, despite his obvious exhaustion. He had driven himself very hard, to seal off Marui's trickiest shots. Oishi was watching him, apparently waiting out the enthusiasm before trying to get his partner to actually rest. Wise man, Renji decided. Fuji and Kawamura were getting ready.

Renji checked Yagyuu and Niou's preparations, and nodded, pleased. Yagyuu held his head just the little bit higher that meant he was ready to play without restraint. Niou was bouncing, just slightly, on the balls of his feet. Renji looked back at Seigaku and caught Sadaharu's eye.

Sadaharu adjusted his glasses with the elegant deliberation that said he conceded some point of argument to Renji. Renji smiled. So, Sadaharu knew how the next match was likely to go, too. They both folded their arms and turned toward the court as the Doubles One pairs were called forward.

"Niou, Yagyuu," Yukimura spoke as they passed. Masaharu really hoped he wasn't about to say anything that would discourage Yagyuu from the lovely edge he had going.

"I don't want to see any injuries today. That said, consider who you're playing and defend yourselves as you see fit."

The dark eyes were sharp and demanding, but they were used to that, and Masaharu's mouth quirked as he looked over at Fuji and Kawamura. Even if he'd never watched Fuji play, he'd have had some idea what Yukimura meant. Yukimura liked Fuji, as a player. Yukimura liked things that were dangerous. As logical progressions went, this one was extremely simple.

"We will use all necessary caution, Yukimura-san," Yagyuu assured their captain. Yukimura nodded, releasing them, and Masaharu couldn't help a thin smile as they met their opponents at the net. Fuji still didn't like them much, if the glint in his eye was anything to go by; that was just fine.

Sure enough, Fuji started things off in high key with that tricky underserve of his. Masaharu stood still and watched its course before turning to nod over his shoulder to Yagyuu. The range of variation on that ball was wide. Even Yagyuu would have a low chance of catching it, unless something gave him a clue where it was headed. Masaharu moved with the next serve, focused down and moved with the ball, trusting Yagyuu's sense of his partner's position to let him track the ball by Masaharu's movement. Masaharu smiled again, as the ball went singing back over the net. He did so enjoy frustrating people, and this promised to be a good day.

They worked through Fuji's favorite moves one by one. Masaharu stayed at the net to give him a couple inviting smashes while Yagyuu fell back to the baseline to catch the Drop. Fuji's eyes narrowed. Masaharu moved even closer to the net to catch Fuji's Swallow before it could land. Fuji's mouth twitched at one corner. Kawamura anchored his positions well, but Masaharu left his returns to Yagyuu, and kept his focus on Fuji. He could feel Yanagi's disapproving look, and it was with great difficulty that he restrained himself from winking at his teammate. If he also managed to take in the Great Master of all Data, it would be a nice bonus; it didn't happen very often.

Wind touched the back of Masaharu's neck, and he let himself bare his teeth at Fuji, daring him. A spark snapped in those burning blue eyes, and Masaharu set himself. Sure enough, this ball swept up, just out of his reach. He heard it land behind him. Held his breath, timing it. Fell away to the side, as Yagyuu cut in front of him and swatted the returning ball out of the air, spiking it over the net.

Kawamura barely caught it, as Fuji wavered, slow to shift his own focus from Masaharu, who had held it the entire match, and Yagyuu hammered a return between their opponents, securing the game.

Masaharu stretched, pleased. It had worked like a charm. He'd watched Fuji play several times, now, and had decided that Fuji's temper was every bit as vicious as Akaya's. It was just far better controlled. He'd mentioned to Yagyuu that, when Fuji was angry, everything else became locked out of his attention. His partner hadn't been especially pleased that Masaharu wanted to be the one to bait Fuji, but he'd finally agreed that it was the best division of forces.

"Talk about holding a grudge," Masaharu called to Fuji, lazily. "You ever let anyone even their own scores? Anybody ever tell you you have a Messiah complex?"

Fuji came very close to snarling at him, before Kawamura drew him back, speaking softly.

Now, Masaharu let his eyes cross Yanagi's, as he turned. Yanagi had a sardonic smile on his face, and nodded once, agreeing that, yes, Masaharu had had him going for a little while.

One last touch to go.

The fact was, Masaharu mused as they waited for their opportunity, Fuji was a stronger player than either he or Yagyuu. But he was new enough to his real strength that he tended to fall back on his bag of tricks, instead, his established counters. His long-standing style was a mix of subtle head games and brutal, game breaking shots.

Masaharu could identify.

And that, of course, was what made this particular trick work. If he were calmer, Fuji would know that Yagyuu was the greater threat, but he had been used, for so long, to being the most dangerous thing on the court that his first instinct was to be most wary of the one who was most like him. If Fuji figured all that out, Masaharu doubted he would ever be able to take Fuji again. In the meantime, though, Masaharu thought, seeing the coup de grace coming, they had the upper hand.

Yagyuu set it up with a Laser. And Fuji fell back, letting Kawamura catch and return it with that stunning Dash Hadoukyuu of his.

Masaharu and Yagyuu both stayed exactly where they were, letting the ball sizzle past without attempting to return it. A murmur went up from the watchers, the same shock that he saw in their opponents' faces. Masaharu caught Fuji's eye, and shrugged, smiling. He could see Fuji's jaw set from across the court.

Because he knew, and now Fuji knew he knew, that Fuji always acted to protect his teammates. He wouldn't allow Kawamura to injure himself by trying a shot like that twice. The sacrifice of a point, even if it meant the sacrifice of a game, as this one did, was worth it when it went that last step to unsettle the other pair's strategist. If Fuji had moved fast enough to turn that around on Yagyuu, Seigaku would probably have taken Doubles One, also.

But it wasn't happening today.

Masaharu was deeply tempted to throw Kikumaru's favorite saying at Fuji, as they shook hands at the end of the match, but Yagyuu had obviously gauged his mood, and murmured a warning, "Niou-kun." So Masaharu restrained himself.

"Spoil-sport," he said, very softly, to his partner as they moved back to their benches.

"What?" Yagyuu asked, with the faint smile that said he was teasing. "Am I not enough for you? You want to prod Fuji until he explodes for your edification, too?"

"No such thing," Masaharu defended himself, pleased with his partner's smooth presence beside him, relaxed and powerful in the wake of the match. "His edge is much too brittle."

Yagyuu chuckled softly, as they came to Yukimura.

"Very good," was all their captain said, but his tone was just as pleased as Masaharu felt.

Masaharu spared Yanagi an especially smug smile, as they switched places, which Yanagi, typically, declined to acknowledge.

Or perhaps he was actually preoccupied, this time. He stood next to Yukimura, tapping the edge of his racquet against his hand, looking very thoughtful. In fact, any more thoughtful and Masaharu would have to call him troubled and he thought they'd had enough of that.

"What is this, Yanagi?" he called. When Yanagi turned, Masaharu gave him his best wolfish grin, the one that made opponents start backing away. "Are you the Master, or aren't you?" he demanded.

Yanagi regarded him evenly for a long moment, and a sharp smile curved his mouth. "Yes, Niou. I am."

Masaharu settled back, satisfied, as Yanagi stepped onto the court. Generally, Yanagi was the least fun of any of his teammates to watch, but lack of confidence would only make someone like him more boring. The players exchanged few words at the net. Masaharu supposed they didn't need many for this little rematch. The handclasp looked friendly.

The smiles, on the other hand, looked rather bloodthirsty. Well, whatever worked for them.

And then Yanagi set himself to serve, and Masaharu sat upright.

"Your eyes are gleaming all of a sudden, Niou," Yagyuu observed, dryly.

"Look at him," Masaharu murmured.

With each breath, it seemed that one kind of tension washed out of Yanagi, and another took its place. He was absolutely still, but that stillness seemed to contain all possible movement. Masaharu's lips drew back off his teeth. He'd seen Yanagi do this before, against Sanada a couple times, against Masaharu himself a couple times.

"What... what is he doing?" Akaya asked, softly, frowning at Yanagi.

"He's modeling the game," Masaharu answered. "All of it. Every way he can see that it might go. And a little more."

Akaya turned the frown on him, and Masaharu laughed.

"He's keeping a space open, in his head, for the unforeseen. Like calculating with an infinite thrown in." Masaharu sighed. "I've never been able to take a single, damn point off him when he gets like that."

Akaya thought about that for a moment, and shivered. Masaharu could sympathize; it was pretty unnerving, especially when you were right on the other end of it. He looked at Inui's tight smile, and decided the Seigaku player knew what was happening.

It was a brilliant match, Masaharu had to admit. Not the kind he usually enjoyed most, but the tearing speed, and cutting precision, combined with that sense of the real game happening somewhere in the players' heads before either of them touched the ball, rushing ahead of the actual moves in starbursts of possibility, was breathtaking. It was also a close match. Yanagi managed to open it up to a two game difference only once, and Inui closed it again, quickly. Masaharu thought he might know, now, why Yukimura was so pleased that Yanagi wanted to play Inui again. Seeing a single style matched against itself, he saw how these two drove each other to find and hone the flashes of vision and analysis that had probably led them both to choose this style in the first place.

He decided, again, that Yukimura had a ruthless streak to top either Sanada's or Yanagi's, when it came to making his players stronger. And to think, he'd almost forgotten, while his captain was gone...

This match, Yanagi won, though both players looked satisfied, as they met at the net again, smiling and breathless. Yanagi said something that actually made Inui laugh, and they parted again, back to their teams. Yanagi returned Yukimura's satisfied look with a serene expression, and touched Sanada's shoulder as he stepped forward.

"Enjoy yourself, Genichirou."

Genichirou's mouth quirked as he heard Yanagi's words. Yes, he told his friend with a sidelong look, he wouldn't get distracted by assumptions this time, as he had last time. The curl of Yukimura's lips, as he looked up at his vice-captain, said he knew what Genichirou was thinking. Genichirou stifled a sigh. Not that it was surprising; the last time he'd gotten a shock that bad, it had been at Yukimura's hands.

"Pace yourself, Sanada," Yukimura told him, eyes turning serious again. "You aren't used to letting yourself go completely, the way Echizen does."

"I haven't played you this long for nothing," Genichirou murmured.

"No," Yukimura agreed. "But I'm your captain; you expect it of me."

Genichirou snorted. "Expecting anything of that one seems to be an invitation to disaster," he noted.

Yukimura laughed. "You'll be fine," he declared.

Genichirou met Echizen at the net, and the boy eyed him from under the brim of his cap with a cocky smile.

"Ready to lose again?" he asked.

Genichirou's eyes narrowed, and the only thing that kept his teeth from grinding was the tiny voice of conscience mentioning that he had set himself up for that.

"The question," he returned, not bothering to keep the growl out of his voice, "is whether you are ready to fight."

Echizen's smile faded into a hard, focused look. "Yes," he said.

"Good," Genichirou answered, and they both turned toward their respective positions.

Genichirou took a deep breath to calm himself, turning the periphery of his spirit inward, settling into concealment, the moving silence of the Forest. A part of him still protested that this was ridiculous, that he couldn't possibly need this level of tactic, but he ignored that reflex. The last game against Echizen had demonstrated that matching pure speed and strength against him was the riskiest possible way to play. Genichirou thought it likely that he did have an edge, provided he used his own capabilities sensibly and didn't squander his chances. But Echizen had an undeniable advantage in how quickly the depth of his potential could grasp the heart of an opponent's moves, on such simple ground, and it would be a foolish gamble to meet him only there.

The wisdom of that choice was illustrated when Echizen sent the Wind slicing over the net. One of Echizen's greatest weaknesses was still his lack of subtlety. Another two tries, and Genichirou could see in Echizen's eyes that he understood how Wind broke against the Mountain each time, but didn't yet know just why he was having such a hard time seeing where the ball would go when returned. Exactly because the unyielding mental state of Mountain and the deep-rooted strength of that return was something Echizen understood in his bones, he had yet to grasp the concealment that Forest laid over it.

Echizen really had no understanding of defensive techniques. Considering that they were Tezuka's greatest strength, Genichirou couldn't stifle a chuckle as he thought of how frustrating Echizen's captain must find the boy's relentless attack mentality. The alarming part was that Echizen still stayed close to him, this match. Neither of them could open a substantial lead, but Echizen was keeping up with a handicap. Genichirou had to admit, he was a worthwhile opponent.

Which was why, at three games to three, he took the brakes off. Unlike Yukimura, and, it was clear, Echizen himself, he didn't like to do this. He could ride the edge of it, let his reflexes respond directly to his perceptions without the mind's interference, and yet still think ahead. But the feeling of it, suspended, or perhaps free falling, scared him sometimes.

Not that he had ever admitted that to anyone but Yukimura and Yanagi.

This state was to his usual focus on a game as a typhoon was to a thunderstorm. He loosed himself, and the rest of the world went away. There was only him, and the one across the net, burning as hot as he was.

In the end, Genichirou thought later, perhaps it was that fire that made the difference.

The tension of containing himself, of enclosing his responses within the silence of the Forest without slowing them or pulling them short, sawed at his nerves. The hot edge of Echizen's game called to the heat of his own, tugged at him to abandon concealment and strategy, to gamble speed against speed and strength against strength. And perhaps it tugged him just far enough, because as their shots clawed at each other, neither willing to yield the two consecutive points that would mean a win, he saw Echizen's eyes blaze and sharpen.

And something reached out to him, palpable as a sudden low pressure front.

And Echizen drove himself just that touch faster than he should have been able to move and caught the ball whose direction he should not have been able to predict.

And it was over.

Genichirou wavered on his feet, pulling himself back to everyday awareness. This was the other reason he wasn't too fond of doing that; no matter how the match ended, it always came as a shock. Rather like hitting the ground after a long fall. He wasn't sure why some people professed to enjoy the sensation. He shook himself, and walked steadily to the net.

At least, this time, Echizen hadn't actually collapsed, though he didn't look far from it. Genichirou clasped his hand, briefly, and then grabbed his shoulder to keep him from falling.

"You need to turn on your brain, and learn to pace yourself, Echizen," he observed, disapproving. "If you had had a second match today you would have been absolutely worthless. I have no interest in losing a good opponent to his own stupidity."

Echizen sniffed, attempting not to lean on his support.

"I think your coach may have some words to say to you on that subject, too," Genichirou noted, looking over the boy's head at the formidable old woman now standing with her hands on her hips and a rather tight mouth.

Echizen winced, and then glared up at him. "It worked," he said, pointedly, or as pointedly as someone whose legs were shaking could.

A faint, unwilling smile pulled at the corner of Genichirou's mouth. "I expect your captain will agree with you on that," he allowed. "Go see, before you fall over, and I have to carry you. Again."

Echizen growled, and stalked back toward his team, just a bit wobbly.

Genichirou headed back to his own team, where Yukimura's sparkling eyes said that he was suppressing laughter.

"I'm glad that one is Tezuka's problem not ours," Genichirou snorted.

Yukimura lost it and laughed out loud. "So, are you satisfied?" he asked, when he could speak again.

Genichirou considered. "For now," he said, slowly, "I think so. Next time... we'll see." He needed to think over what this match had shown him about his own play. No one had ever broken the Forest before, let alone lured him out of it by appealing to his own desire for the straightforward. Perhaps... perhaps it was time to gamble, and see what he could make of that.

Yukimura smiled. "Good," he said, softly. He stood and stretched.

"Now."

Seiichi heard the murmur of his club, as he stepped out across from Tezuka, and knew his smile had changed. Yanagi had told him, once, that it was quite noticeable, that shift from simple pleasure to the exaltation of hunting. The world brightened, sharpened, deepened. Tezuka's focus slashed against his, answering, though Tezuka's own expression only changed slightly. A brightening of the eyes, a flex of the stern mouth. Seiichi wondered, in passing, how many opponents failed to notice those tiny signs until it was far too late.

Not that Tezuka hid a thing, really. Seiichi was aware of the spectators quieting, understanding the intensity that sang between the players. It didn't particularly matter to him one way or the other, now. Nothing mattered, now, but Tezuka's presence and movement, the ocean deep stillness waiting on the other side of the net.

They started fast, neither of them seeing any reason to hold back. Seiichi was unsurprised to be caught up immediately in the Zone. He played with it a little, angling his returns here and there, to see whether pure speed or strength could break it. In a way, he was pleased that the answer was no. He knew that Tezuka was, in fact, very fast and strong, but this technique had always looked like something more than the proper application of brute force. It was good to have that confirmed. Seiichi sank himself into observation of Tezuka's play, seeking the key, reaching out to encompass Tezuka's game and know it.

Seiichi's attention was especially caught by the savagery under Tezuka's precision. There was a wildness there, an implacable ruthlessness like the flood of a river in spring. And yet, it was still fine and subtle. Seiichi was enchanted. He didn't wonder, anymore, that Tezuka concealed himself behind such a flat mask; because it wasn't, really, either of those things, now, was it? It was simply the face of his wildness, as passionate and featureless as as a wind storm, something that didn't translate into social charms.

Understanding that lack of cultivation, for all Tezuka's fine edge, Seiichi thought he might know what the Zone was. Which was good, because he couldn't afford to run around too much longer, looking for it. His next swing took a little longer, lingered, and Seiichi concentrated on the sweep of it, the way he would on the sweep of his brush or pencil, drawing a line... there. He matched the lines the ball drew against the sensation of it on his racquet. Yes. This would be a delicate thing; the Zone could be overpowered, certainly, but that would leave him in no position to catch the next shot. But if Tezuka spun the ball this way, then the line Seiichi needed to gentle it into was... there. Yes. He knew it now, and smiled at the hard light in Tezuka's eyes that said Tezuka was coming to know him, as well. He wouldn't truly wish it any other way.

He had never played a game this intense and also this intricate. The score was moving in fits and starts, a sudden twist yielding a few points until the other player caught it and they were at stalemate again. A corner of Seiichi's mind thought that it probably looked like a punishing rhythm to maintain, this stop and start. But, from the inside, it never stopped. He and Tezuka were never deadlocked, they were constantly moving around each other, sliding against and past each other. That, however, was all in the connection that they wove between them, the net of senses they each cast over the other, and he doubted most of the distant spectators noticed it. His team, perhaps, and Tezuka's, and likely a handful of the rivals who had come to witness the match.

Seiichi was hard pressed not to laugh when they reached six games to six. He would have to ask Yanagi when it had last happened, that all three singles matches went to tie-break. Later. Right now there was only he and Tezuka and the game.

Except that... there was more, today.

Seiichi paused as he started to serve, tipped his head. There was more than just he and his opponent in their game. Puzzled, he glanced at the stands, and his eyes crossed over his team. Their presence had never intruded into his game before, but here they were, now. Akaya, leaning against the fence, eyes wide and fascinated; Renji standing quiet, with a hand on Akaya's shoulder; Marui, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees; Jackal standing beside him, calm and immovable; Yagyuu, smiling softly, hands light on the rail; Niou, slouched back, grin sharp as a knife, eyes laughing; Genichirou, sitting poised and still, hands open and easy, gaze burning.

They were with him; their absolute belief in him folded around him, wove into his awareness. For the first time, they gave back what it had always been his place to give to them, and Seiichi let out a tiny breath as he felt the last, thin, sharp band of fear that this year had cinched around him crumble. Looking back across the net, he met Tezuka's faint, quiet smile, and saw the slight beckoning movement that invited him to play this match to the end without the need to prove anything but the joy of the game itself.

And now Seiichi laughed. Laughed freely, and cast the ball up, feeling his team gathered at his back, and sent it singing over the net toward whatever future he and his opponent, and their people with them, could create today.

End

The Other Side

Kirihara deals with a stressful practice and finally snaps. In a good way. Drama, I-3

"We would have won if I'd been playing with him!"

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't have the reach to counter Chiba."

"You don't have the speed!"

Akaya tried to unclench his teeth before he gave himself a headache. "Both of you be quiet," he growled. Niiyama and Tsunoda shut up but didn't stop glaring at each other, Niiyama's eyes fiery and Tsunoda's chill. Akaya throttled down the urge to whack them both over the heads with his racquet, and never mind that Tsunoda was tall enough he'd have to reach for it.

Sakamoto leaned against the fence, staying out of it for all he was worth, and Akaya wished once again that he knew whether that was because Sakamoto didn't care or cared too much. He'd really like to figure out whether he could use Sakamoto to quash these fights or not. Right now he was stuck doing all the work himself, and it was getting old.

"I don't suppose, just possibly, for the good of the team you're both allegedly a part of, you could actually agree to share Sakamoto's time instead of using him as your tug-of-war rope?" he asked with tired sarcasm, raking a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," Furuya muttered from where he was fetching a water bottle, "after all, you had really good examples of sharing this past year, right?"

Akaya knew it had been a long practice, and that everyone was tired. He knew that when Furuya was tired he sneered more than ever. He knew it was now his responsibility to keep his temper when everyone else didn't. But in the shocked silence following Furuya's remark, Akaya could hear the singing rise of his own blood pressure and feel the clenching tightness in every muscle that meant he was going to break something very soon.

"Furuya," he gritted out, enunciating carefully, "you will not say things like that, here."

Later, Akaya would place the look on Furuya's face as nervous bravado. At that moment, though, he saw only defiance and it tinged his vision in red. It had been more than a long day, for him, it had been a long four months. Rage hovered in the back of his mind, bright and gleeful.

"Or what?" Furuya shot back. "You'll get Sanada-senpai to come down here?"

Akaya's pride reared up, hauling him away from the edge. He would not be less than those three, and this court was his now. These people belonged to him, and it was his choices that would steer this team. Suddenly Furuya's question, his doubt, was another opponent, and Akaya's focus snapped around the question the way it closed around an opponent's game. Ice washed through Akaya's mind, replaced the red with stark clarity. "I am the captain of this club," he said, very softly. "You will not say things like that in front of me."

Furuya gave back a step and glanced away. "Yeah, fine." His expression was unnerved, now.

Akaya turned away, dismissing him as the cool edge of his thoughts suggested something about the original problem. He swept a look over the three in front of him.

"Niiyama," he said, at last, "I'm pulling you out of doubles. Your skills are solid enough there, you need to work on singles for a while. When I'm confident you've made a good start," he continued over Niiyama's choke of protest, "I'll rotate Sakamoto out to singles and we'll see how you and Tsunoda do as a pair."

"What?!" Niiyama nearly screeched, blue eyes a bit wild. The look on Tsunoda's face wasn't any more sanguine.

"You're the one who wanted a place on the team so badly," Akaya rapped out. "Act like it. Or was I wrong about what you want? Because if I am you can leave now."

Niiyama inhaled sharply and his chin came up. "Yes, Kirihara-buchou," he said though his teeth.

Akaya swung his racquet up to his shoulder. "Good. Then come play a set with me."

Niiyama's eyes widened and then narrowed, and he followed readily. Akaya nodded to himself; better Niiyama focus that competitive streak on him than on Tsunoda.

And it did seem to do some immediate good. Niiyama's game was as flamboyant as ever, but more efficient than usual. A stronger opponent drew him out. Akaya thought about that as he pulled out a ball for his next serve. Was this what Yukimura-san had seen, looking at him?

For one moment he was disoriented, as if he had stepped around the other side of a one-way mirror and seen a familiar room from a skewed angle. How had he gotten to be on this side? Akaya took a deep breath and pushed the strangeness away. He had a player who needed him to do this, to stand back and watch and think how to teach Niiyama something he might not want to hear.

Hmm. That did suggest something, though.

Akaya looked across the net and let himself lean into Niiyama's anger and aggression. The edges of the world tucked in around them. "Niiyama!" he called.

"Yeah?" Niiyama shot back, eyeing him.

"Focus," Akaya ordered. "Because I'm not holding back with you today."

Niiyama's eyes widened and whipped around to follow the serve as it tore past him, and snapped back to Akaya. His lips tightened, and Akaya saw it—the first surge of Niiyama's intent pushing back against him.

"Much better," he murmured to himself.

Suzuoki was waiting for him when they came off the court and Akaya dismissed practice. "Very nice," he observed.

"Mm," Akaya answered, taking a long drink. In the end, Niiyama had pushed him harder than he'd expected. "It'll do for now. Though I wonder what will happen when I pair him with Tsunoda."

"They'll do well, as long as they have a reason to," Suzuoki predicted, watching those two fall in on either side of Sakamoto. "You might consider arranging some practice games against rival teams for them."

"Now there's a thought." Akaya tallied up teams that still had seasoned pairs in his head. "Wonder if Fudoumine still wants to draw and quarter me."

Suzuoki snorted, having gotten that whole story out of Akaya weeks ago. "Well, how good are you at pretending to be reformed?"

"Hey!" Akaya glared. "Though, you know," he added as Suzuoki chuckled into his cigarette, "I wouldn't mind playing him again."

Suzuoki's glance sharpened. "Tachibana?"

"Yeah. I feel like I got short changed, after what I saw of him at Nationals." Akaya frowned. He'd like to know why Tachibana hadn't shown his strength during their match, too. "Besides, I need someone besides my own team to practice against," he concluded.

"Good call," Suzuoki approved. "Though it wouldn't hurt you to depend less on your opponent's spirit to raise your own." He smiled, dryly, as Akaya blinked at him. "Consider it, Kirihara-kun."

Akaya made a mental note of it, but most of his thoughts were on the bus schedule to Tokyo. Good competition, that would help. That would make him feel more familiar to himself, again.

End

Mock Battle

Kirihara sets up some practice matches with Fudoumine, to the general annoyance of most concerned. Drama, I-3

Akaya trudged across the campus of Fudoumine feeling put upon. Why couldn't Suzuoki have set this up? Why did it have to be him? Fudoumine as a whole wanted his guts for garters. He knew it was, in the final analysis, his own fault, which didn't help in the least. It helped even less when he finally reached the tennis courts only to see that Tachibana was there along with Fudoumine's proper team, albeit not in uniform. What was it, he thought crankily, with pushy senpai who couldn't retire properly when they were supposed to?

A slightly more charitable corner of his mind noted the stifled conflict in every line of Kamio's stance beside his ex-captain. It looked like Akaya wasn't the only one dealing with standing in someone else's shadow, this coming year. He really did sympathize.

"What are you doing here?"

Sympathy evaporated in face of that challenge, and Akaya eyed the girl now standing at the gate. Tachibana's sister, wasn't it? He'd heard stories about her.

"I'm not here to talk to you, that's for sure. So, if you'll excuse me." He edged around her and gauged his welcome from the people he was here to talk to. Not much of one from what he could see. Measuring cold from Ibu and Kamio both, a couple growls from the others, some muscle-flexing from the tall one especially; probably a good thing one or two seemed to be missing or they might have succeeded in causing him to combust in the collective glare. Tachibana himself was the most neutral.

Which meant that Akaya was in a receptive mood when the imp of the perverse made a suggestion. He leaned in the gateway and let his mouth quirk.

"So, who's actually in charge, here?" he needled, with a meaningful glance at Kamio.

Score. The lines around Kamio's eyes and mouth tightened in a way that would probably look familiar if Akaya had spent more time looking in the mirror this winter. When Tachibana was the first to speak Akaya had to bite back some fairly black laughter.

"What is it you're here for?"

"To see about arranging some practice matches," Akaya shrugged.

Now Kamio stepped forward, and the fact that he didn't seem to think about it first raised his credit in Akaya's eyes. "Between Fudoumine and Rikkai?"

"Mm. Between one of my doubles pairs and one of yours, in particular," Akaya expanded. "You and Ibu, for preference, but I'm not terribly picky."

From behind him the girl muttered something about not being surprised, and Akaya hid a grin. She was even easier to get worked up than Sanada-san was. Come to think of it, she glared a lot the same way, too. Only from a lower angle.

Kamio had the distant look of someone paging through a calendar in his head. Akaya was pleased that he'd accepted the idea so readily; at this rate he might actually end up respecting his opposite number before he left. A little, anyway. Kamio looked at Ibu. "Thursday?"

Ibu nodded, silently; he hadn't taken his eyes off Akaya for one second. It felt unnervingly similar to having Yagyuu-senpai's eyes on him, and Akaya made a mental note to be a little careful about this one.

"Works for me," he said, pushing upright. And then he paused and heaved a sigh. He was here; Tachibana was here. He might as well get it over with. "Tachibana-san."

"Yes?" Still the neutral tone.

"I apologize for what happened during our last match," Akaya said, managing to be only a little stiff.

He was less successful in not rolling his eyes at the looks of surprise and, in a few cases, outrage on the faces of the Fudoumine team. Behind his shoulder, Tachibana's sister growled.

"Accepted, of course." Tachibana's quiet voice cut across the less cordial reactions.

"Tachibana-san ... " Ibu murmured.

Tachibana shook his head. "It would be... inconsistent to hold the past against him, Shinji." He held Ibu's gaze until Ibu nodded his assent, still looking displeased about it. "I'll look forward to another match at some point, Kirihara-kun," he concluded.

Akaya's shoulders relaxed. "I'd like that." He cocked his head. "If you're not holding back next time." He was still kind of pissed off about that.

Tachibana's expression slipped out of its neutrality into a faint, rueful smile. "If it isn't to be a repeat, both of us will have to hold back on at least one front."

An odd hint of sympathy lurked in Tachibana's eyes, and Akaya added that to the things he'd heard from Yanagi-san. Yeah, he'd thought the rumors about Tachibana having been a violent player were probably true, after the way Tachibana had performed at Nationals. Akaya's eyes narrowed. "I don't hand out anything I can't take, Tachibana-san. One way or another."

"A good thing to know," Tachibana returned coolly. But there was a spark in his eyes, and Akaya smiled. The next match should be worth it.

"See you Thursday," he told Kamio.

As he turned to leave, though, he came face to face with two more members of Fudoumine, carrying baskets of balls. One he was vaguely familiar with. Sakurai, the tall one's doubles partner. The other was far more of a surprise.

"Fuji Yuuta?" Akaya resisted the urge to rub his eyes and double check the uniform. There was no question it was the Fudoumine uniform. "Well, well, isn't this interesting?" Akaya purred, almost to himself. He hadn't really hoped for a match with the younger Fuji; no one expected St. Rudolph to advance past Prefecturals in the upcoming season. But wouldn't that be a nice jab at the older Fuji? To give him a heart attack after the fact, when he heard his precious brother had been playing someone with Akaya's reputation for brutality? The idea appealed mightily to Akaya's sense of mischief. He grinned at Yuuta. "I'll see you Thursday, too, I hope."

Bounce was back in his step as he left.

"... can't believe you're making us play an actual match like this," Niiyama grumbled, as he'd been grumbling under his breath the entire way to Fudoumine.

"If you don't stop complaining, I'll find something even worse," Akaya threatened, very evenly, casting a quick look over the courts to see if Tachibana or his fire-breathing sister were present. Fortune smiled on him; they didn't seem to be.

Niiyama shut up, just in time for Akaya to greet Kamio with some dignity. Had he ever given Sanada-san this kind of trouble? Well, all right, his sense of justice forced him to add, had he been this much trouble before Sanada-san took him to bed? He honestly didn't think so.

On the other hand, Niiyama's snippiness did mean that Akaya felt far less guilty than he might have about what he was doing. A thin smile tugged at his mouth as he watched Niiyama and Tsunoda set themselves across from Kamio and Ibu. He didn't expect his players to make any foolish mistakes; they were both experienced in doubles. But Kamio and Ibu had been through a much hotter fire, and their rapport was seamless.

Sure enough, Kamio and Ibu took three games in quick succession. Akaya grinned as he noted that Niiyama and Tsunoda's glares were shifting from each other to their opponents.

"You look awfully cheerful," a voice noted beside him.

Akaya glanced over to see Fuji Yuuta leaning against the fence watching the match. "Moderately," he agreed.

Yuuta shot him a sidelong look. "Are you that confident they'll make a comeback?" He didn't sound like he believed it. Nor, for that matter, did the rest of Fudoumine, from the pleased sound of the remarks a little further down the fence.

"It's possible," Akaya said, watching one moment of clear understanding flicker between his players as their eyes met before Tsunoda fell back to support a series of Niiyama's quick drives. Not entirely likely, but possible. Either way it would work out, and these two would get a wake up call.

Yuuta's eyes darkened. "You've got a real ruthless streak, Kirihara."

Akaya was mildly surprised that Yuuta had unraveled the purpose of this exercise. Of course, he couldn't actually be an inattentive player, if he'd played a good game against Echizen; but his reputation was more for power than finesse or analysis. Another note for the mental files. "As if you have any room to talk," he returned.

"Only with myself," Yuuta countered, disapproval in his voice.

"You think a team captain has that luxury?" Akaya asked, curious. He had wondered what Yuuta was doing here, when he had been expected to take over the St. Rudolph team; maybe now he knew.

"Hm." Yuuta declined to spar any more and turned his attention back to the game.

In the end it went the way Akaya had expected, and even a bit more so. The final score was 6-4, thanks to an edge of brilliance and viciousness in Ibu that he didn't remember seeing before. He made a note to talk to Suzuoki about Ibu later. For now, he had a lesson to round off. He pushed away from the fence and waited for Niiyama and Tsunoda to come to him.

"Well?" he asked, coolly.

Niiyama's spine straightened, and his eyes glinted, daring his captain to censure him. "We won't lose again," he pronounced.

Tsunoda was quiet, but the same determination showed in his level gaze. They were, Akaya was pleased to note, standing shoulder to shoulder instead of turned warily toward each other the way they normally did.

"I expect not," Akaya answered, softly. Success! He left Hiiyama to give the pair notes on the match and looked over the Fudoumine team. "Anyone else up for a match?" he inquired.

Ishida stepped forward, just enough to loom a bit. "Sure."

Akaya considered what he knew about Ishida's style. "Sakamoto. Your turn."

"Me?!" Sakamoto squawked. Ishida blinked a bit, too, taking in Sakamoto's small, slight build.

"Yes, you," Akaya confirmed, impassively. Sakamoto wasn't training in singles right now purely so that Akaya could metaphorically handcuff his two regular doubles partners together. Akaya had every intention of developing all the skills his team had as far as they would go. Sakamoto was a perfectly capable singles player, and Akaya wasn't about to let him slack off. Besides, Akaya had pulled out the small-and-cute card on his teachers too often not to notice when someone tried to play it on him. Sakamoto's glare, as he fished out his racquet, hinted that he was catching on to this fact.

"Kirihara-buchou, I really hate you. Just so you know," Sakamoto told him, in the petulant tone he only ever used with the team.

Akaya's lips twitched. "Yes, I know. Now get going."

"Going, going," Sakamoto grumbled, stalking past a bemused Ishida.

"Interesting team dynamics you've got, Kirihara," Kamio remarked dryly.

Akaya shrugged, carelessly. "It works for us." Sure enough, Sakamoto was the one who was pushing the pace right from the start, aggressive enough to rock Ishida back onto the defensive. "You know, Hiiyama," Akaya murmured to his vice-captain, "it's too bad you don't play doubles. You and Sakamoto would be an unstoppable pair. Just like a pair of explosive little super-balls bouncing around the court."

Hiiyama shot him a dark look. "Your sense of humor is going to be a bigger legend than your temper at this rate," he muttered.

Akaya had to admit that this was probably true. Which only encouraged him, really. At that thought, with what could only be fated timing, his eye fell on Yuuta, still observing from the side. Ah, yes. A bubble of amusement lightened his voice. "Fuji. You look bored. How about a match?"

He almost laughed at the ripple of unease that passed through Fudoumine. Well, all of them except Yuuta. Yuuta looked distinctly suspicious. Akaya offered his most engaging smile. "Come on, you know you want to."

He caught an exasperated look from Hiiyama, and knew that he would be hearing, later, about the proper dignity of a captain. Akaya tossed him a wink, just to be provoking. Niiyama's eyes were a little wide, as he watched, never having seen Akaya like this from up close before, but Tsunoda just shook his head and nudged his reluctant partner back against the fence, out of the line of fire.

Yuuta's suspicion didn't fade, which, thinking about it, Akaya didn't find surprising; Yuuta was smiled at by an expert on a regular basis, he was sure. The suspicion was joined, however, by a certain hungry light. Yuuta glanced at Kamio and raised an eyebrow. After a moment Kamio nodded.

It was different from his usual games, and maybe this was what Suzuoki had meant. Akaya found himself wavering, rather uncomfortably, back and forth over the line of complete engagement. Yuuta was too strong a player to deal with lightly; his shots were precise and powerful, and his counters annoyingly effective. But never so much so that Akaya could just relax and respond automatically, or stretch out to his limit without thought. For someone who was supposed to be bullheaded, Yuuta was a very deliberate player, and it ruffled Akaya that he couldn't automatically find the right rhythm to deal with him.

As he set himself to serve he closed his eyes for a moment, searching for stillness he had learned under pressure from Yuuta's brother, hoping that would work where his usual fire hadn't. Looking across the net into suddenly attentive eyes he felt the catch, like a spark against bare skin. Yuuta was moving, even as the serve arrowed in, to catch it and throw it back. The edge of wariness between them dissolved, and Akaya almost laughed. Much better.

The second half of the match was brutally fast, and they were both breathing hard when they met at the net. "Good game," Akaya panted, grinning. He had won 6-4.

"Yeah, it was," Yuuta agreed, and Akaya had to suppress the urge to make a face at the hint of surprise in his voice.

"So just how did you wind up here, anyway?" he asked, instead.

The openness in Yuuta's gaze folded closed again. "The St. Rudolph team was Mizuki-san's. Without him, it's a different thing."

"It's a thing that would have been yours," Akaya suggested.

Yuuta's eyes never flickered, and the line of his mouth was proud. "I like this thing better," he said, waving a hand at the courts around them.

Akaya was impressed, not that he was going to admit that.

As they rejoined their teams, Hiiyama gave him the raised brows, asking whether it had been worth it to show his game that openly. His vice-captain had very expressive eyebrows, Akaya reflected. "Don't worry about it," he said, under his breath.

Hiiyama snorted.

"It isn't worth it unless it's for real," Akaya said, firmly.

Niiyama stirred, against the fence, expression more thoughtful than was typical for him. Akaya hid a smile; extra dividends, how nice. He kept half an eye on Niiyama through the parting courtesies, wanting to know where that expression was leading. They were half way home before he got an answer.

"Kirihara-buchou."

"Yes?" Akaya nodded to the seat beside him.

Niiyama sat, slowly. "What did you mean, 'for real'?" For once he sounded serious, though serious looked just as intense on him as any other emotion.

Why the hell did Akaya feel old, all of a sudden?

Akaya leaned back. "When you have a good opponent and you're not paying attention to anything else—when nothing but the game exists for right then and it takes up everything you are—that's when it's real. When you've been there once it's hard to stay away." Not that he intended to tell this particular audience about the permutations of that passion, the way it could twist, especially when you were in pain. Niiyama didn't need to know about the details of that, and Akaya didn't like to think about it. He shot a sidelong glance at Niiyama's thoughtful attitude. "It works better when you're not wasting your attention showing off for your partner," he added.

Niiyama opened his mouth with an indignant expression, but Akaya overrode him.

"If you were a dedicated doubles player it might be different," Akaya conceded, thinking of Niou-senpai and Yagyuu-senpai. "But this little competition you and Tsunoda have going is distracting you. You can play better than that." Watching Niiyama wondering about what a real game meant had convinced Akaya of that much. And it was, he reflected, a damn good thing Niiyama hadn't been around to see what Akaya had been like as a first year, himself, or he'd probably have been accused of total hypocrisy by now.

After a long, fraught, moment, Niiyama lowered his eyes. "Yes, Kirihara-buchou."

Akaya made a shooing gesture. "Go think about it, then."

As he slouched down in his seat a little further and closed his eyes, he considered his own first year again, and wondered whether he should write a letter of apology to Yukimura-san when they got home.

End

Given

The start of the new year gives Fuji some new problems to deal with. Yamato-buchou is his mildly evil self. Drama, I-2

Shuusuke regarded the lineups for the first ranking matches of the year as though the board might bite him. In a sense, it already had, actually. He had expected to see Tezuka's name there. No one would argue, any more, that it didn't belong there. What he hadn't expected was to see his own, in the same block. He looked back down at Yamato-buchou, who was leaning back in the chair behind the table, apparently quite relaxed. He raised his brows in inquiry at Shuusuke's suddenly rather tight smile.

"That wasn't a very kind thing to do, Buchou," Shuusuke noted.

"Wasn't it?" his captain mused, twirling a pen through his fingers. "Perhaps not. But if you choose to keep going, Fuji, you're going to have to face Tezuka in competition sooner or later. Isn't it better to start now than be surprised in a professional setting?"

Shuusuke's mouth tightened a bit further, and he didn't answer. He and Tezuka had played each other, over the winter and spring, as often as studying for exams allowed. He had started, and this was just gratuitous. But he knew perfectly well that Yamato-buchou was remarkably stubborn for someone who seemed so easygoing, and that nothing Shuusuke could say was likely to change his mind.

So he murmured an acknowledgement, and resigned himself to it. He would wade through the second and third years, and he would play as a Regular this year; he would likely incur some resentment, but that had never really bothered him in the past. He would give the team his best, and if that failed to reconcile any of the club members to having yet another younger player pass them by, well, then their opinions weren't worth being bothered by.

And he would play seriously against Tezuka when they faced each other, here. Despite his continuing dislike of exposing himself. He couldn't do any less, not anymore, not without hurting his friend badly. Yamato-buchou really was too perceptive for other people's good, sometimes.

Two days layer, he was having a hard time not glaring at the murmuring club members gathered around the court as he and Tezuka met at the net. Yes, it was a new thing for him to show himself so clearly; yes, he was better than they had thought; yes, this would be an interesting match, thank you so much, and would they please shut up already? There was a gleam of amusement behind Tezuka's calm expression, and Shuusuke indulged himself and did glare at Tezuka for a second.

"On edge?" Tezuka asked, quietly.

"Irritated," Shuusuke clipped out.

"Mmm."

Too ruffled, and too busy not showing it, to pursue what was on Tezuka's mind, Shuusuke set himself and waited for Tezuka's serve.

It was not the best game he had ever played.

It was harder than usual to focus on Tezuka the way he needed to, to match Tezuka's game. This was unlike Nationals, where challenge and need had taken up all his attention, unlike their games alone, where nothing but the contact between them mattered. Now, awareness of the watching eyes prickled at him all the time, and he found himself having to fight his own long-standing reflex toward concealment. He had to remind himself, constantly, that he wasn't playing that kind of game anymore, couldn't play that one if he wanted to stand against the person on the other side of the net.

Tezuka won cleanly, 7-5.

Frustrated with the audience, with Tezuka's forbearance in not asking what was wrong with him, and with himself in particular, Shuusuke favored his captain with an unusually sour look when Yamato-buchou strolled over to them.

"Impressive," Yamato-buchou said.

Shuusuke barely pressed a snarl into a smile.

Yamato-buchou shook his head. "I mean it, Fuji-kun. To play aggressively was never your preferred style, mentally or technically; you're making quick progress. You just need to remind yourself that no one watching can make much use of what you show them."

A valid point, Shuusuke had to admit. Still. "That won't be true when outsiders are watching," he pointed out. "Especially at competition matches." And, really, he was just being contrary, because he already knew that, in a competition match, he was far less likely to care. Still. He didn't feel like letting Yamato-buchou off easy.

"That's true," Yamato-buchou admitted, "but it still doesn't matter."

Shuusuke blinked.

"Fuji, if you intend to play seriously, you can't afford to spend any game second guessing yourself. Play to the extent the opponent demands you play. If you lose a match because you were thinking twice about a potential future opponent, then your caution will have defeated itself, won't it?"

The words sank into Shuusuke's mind and rang there, because he knew they were true. So much for being contrary; he should know better, with Yamato-buchou, he supposed. He took a deep breath and let some of his tension go. His captain smiled and patted his shoulder, which Shuusuke took half as reassurance and half as an admonishment to get it right next time. He offered a slightly crooked smile back. "Yes, Buchou."

"Good! If you have more trouble acclimating to an audience, just let me know. I'm sure we can come up with some exercises to help."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem," Shuusuke said, with as much confidence as he could inject into one sentence. He crossed his mental fingers, hoping this would be accepted. He had enough interest in his life right now without Yamato-buchou's often quirky ideas of useful exercises.

"Excellent," Yamato-buchou declared, not looking deceived at all. "And Tezuka, watch that side step. You're stepping wide on your push-off; it will set your balance off if you do that when you play someone besides Fuji."

Tezuka acknowledged this with a respectful nod. Shuusuke looked up at him, surprised. He hadn't realized they had been playing hard enough today for that. Tezuka shrugged, minimally, one corner of his mouth quirking. Shuusuke's smile softened. He knew that was exactly what Tezuka loved about their games.

Shuusuke walked for a long time after practice that day. Wandered might be closer to the truth, he reflected, as he sauntered down dark sidewalks. He had a lot to think about. He fetched up, eventually, at the street courts by the park, watching the matches under the floodlights. Some of the players were just here for fun, and won or lost with a laugh. Some were clearly serious, and focused on their opponents in a manner he found familiar, though they fell far short of the intensity he was used to seeing. He found himself remembering something he had seen and heard over and over again: someone mentioning that they had been saving a particular move for later, but would use it prematurely rather than lose. It had never entirely made sense to him, not viscerally. He'd never had to do any such thing. He'd rarely been driven to develop new moves. Now...

Now, he thought it would happen far more regularly.

He had unfolded himself, opened his talent out as far as it would go and found himself among the very best. But the very best did drive themselves forward; he'd seen it. And they would overtake him if he stood still. It was a precarious feeling. Yamato-buchou was right; he would have to show himself, and watching opponents would plan and work and develop based on what they observed in order to defeat him, and he...

He would have to do the same.

A tiny shiver tracked down his spine, and he laughed, breathlessly, to himself. Precarious, yes, but also thrilling. A challenge.

A familiar tilt of head caught his eye, down on one of the benches that surrounded the courts. Shuusuke's brows rose, and he picked his way through the onlookers.

"Kirihara. You're a ways from home tonight," he greeted, coming to stand beside him.

Kirihara shot a quick look up at him before turning back to the match in progress. "Yes, I am," he agreed, sounding very pleased with this condition.

"A bit below your level, isn't this?" Shuusuke prodded, curious.

"As if you have room to talk," Kirihara snorted.

"I hadn't thought to play here." It was entirely true, but Shuusuke was arrested by a sudden thought. He eyed Kirihara, and the courts at large. Opponent. Audience.

Opportunity.

"Would you care to play a match against me?" he asked.

Kirihara's head snapped around, eyes wide. "Now?"

"Yes." Shuusuke gave him the kind of bright smile he knew would be annoying. "We're not, technically, in opposing teams this year, so there shouldn't be any problem, right?"

A little to his surprise, Kirihara didn't bristle, merely gave him a long, serious look. "For real?" he asked.

Shuusuke had to admit, he was somewhat impressed. Very few people could stand him being cheerful at them with equanimity. Kirihara seemed to have gotten a better grip on his temper, if nothing else, this year. "For real," he agreed.

It wasn't as difficult as Shuusuke had thought it might be, to put the watchers out of his mind and concentrate on what the match demanded. By the end of the second game he had to start wondering whether his own club actually made him more nervous than potential rivals. He tucked the thought away for later.

Already thinking about the shape of his own game, Shuusuke noticed some interesting changes in the shape of Kirihara's. For one thing, Kirihara was silent. When Shuusuke caught himself on the edge of fidgeting, waiting for Kirihara to prod at him and give him an opening to bait back, he had to laugh at himself. Yamato-buchou was right; the habit of playing defensively was one that could get him in trouble if he let it get out of hand and distract him from the other possibilities.

The other thing Shuusuke noticed, he wasn't quite sure what to do with yet. Kirihara relaxed, as the match went on, even when Shuusuke gained a two-game lead. It made Kirihara's game smoother than the tension of their last match had, but Shuusuke wasn't at all sure that was a deliberate adaptation on Kirihara's part. His curiosity was piqued, especially since Yuuta's account of his own practice match against Rikkai's new captain had hinted at something similar. Perhaps he could have another chat with his brother about this particular player.

Kirihara was out of breath as they met at the net, but still held his head high.

"Good game," Shuusuke told him, offering his hand.

Kirihara snorted as he extended his own hand. "I'll catch you, too."

"Considering who else you have on your list, I'll take that as a compliment," Shuusuke answered, lightly.

He turned the match over in his head, as he walked home. It was possible, he thought, that Kirihara's play style was shifting. Where he had previously relied on his strength and speed to break past any opponent, this new relaxation might be the start of a move toward a more rounded style. Not that the boy was any less aggressive, to be sure. That was all the more obvious in comparison to the match Shuusuke had played with Tezuka, today. The stillness at the core of Tezuka's game made a stark contrast to the reaching outward that characterized Kirihara.

That was something he could use, Shuusuke mused. The stillness of Tezuka's techniques was, he thought, based on the perfection with which Tezuka controlled the ball. Equal precision could answer that, making the competition between them a matter of who could achieve the finest degree of control.

A thought struck him, making Shuusuke pause under one of the streetlights. He was already making the kind of plans he had told himself he would have to start making—had already accepted the challenge, at least in one case. A certain smugness followed on the heels of that realization. Yamato-buchou might have been right, but so had Shuusuke. That made him feel much better about taking his captain's advice.

Tezuka would probably give him an exasperated look, if Shuusuke told him about this.

He continued on his way, chuckling at himself.

End

Warming Up

Tournament season starts, and Kirihara gets a present from his coach. Drama, I-2

"That was boring."

Akaya shot a glance at Hiiyama, sunk, arms crossed, in the next seat. From anyone else that would have been a complaint; from his vice-captain it was just a statement. Albeit not a very happy one.

"You can say that again," he agreed, easily. "Prefecturals was boring last year, and it was boring this year."

"You might want to speak to the team about that," Suzuoki murmured from behind them.

Akaya turned to prop an arm over the back of his seat and raise his brows at their coach.

"Considering that there are real challenges coming up," Suzuoki expanded with a sigh that said Akaya should have thought of it himself.

Akaya gave him an evil look, but had to admit that he had a point. So when their bus rolled in to Rikkai's parking lot and his chattering team members piled off, he hauled them together one last time.

"All right, we've had a pretty good warm up," he told them. "We're about to have some good competition. Regionals are around the corner. This is where the real thing starts for us. Fudoumine will be waiting for us there; also Seigaku and Hyoutei. We'll face two of them, the way seeding is most likely to fall. Provided no one gets over-confident and screws up." He gave them a medium stern look and was pleased that they looked back with serious expressions rather than offended ones. "Good. Get out of here, then; I'll expect everyone to be focused on Monday."

The team scattered, but Suzuoki snagged him before Akaya could follow. "Apropos of which," he said, "come say hello to your visitor."

"What visitor?" Akaya asked, a bit suspiciously.

"The one I arranged for you," Suzuoki answered, imperturbably. "Come on." He steered Akaya toward the courts.

Since Akaya's imagination suggested any possibility, from some pro friend of Suzuoki's to Yukimura-san, he was relieved that the person waiting for them by the courts looked like a normal sort of student; high school or college probably.

"Sasaki-kun, it was good of you to stop by," Suzuoki called, sounding so amiable that Akaya's suspicions instantly doubled.

"Always glad to do a favor for my ex-coach," Sasaki returned with a wry smile. "Besides, you made it sound interesting."

Akaya turned a glower on Suzuoki, silently demanding to know what he was up to this time. Suzuoki smirked at him. "You got to play exactly once this weekend and last. You should unwind a little. Besides, you could use an actual challenge."

Since Akaya couldn't argue with any of that, he turned back to the visitor and offered him a resigned greeting. "Kirihara Akaya; pleased to meet you."

"Sasaki Kouji." A wry smile. "Likewise."

"Sasaki-kun was captain of the high school team last year," Suzuoki tossed over his shoulder. "He's on the university team, now, which may, if he's patient, finally result in playing on the same team as Sanada-kun."

"I expect Sanada-kun to go professional straight out of high school," Sasaki contradicted briskly. "If we ever play on the same team it will be longer than three years from now."

"You know Sanada-san?" Akaya asked, slowly.

Sasaki's smile crooked oddly. "I played with him last year. He came to the tennis school I practice at sometimes, looking for someone to sharpen his skills on. He's a very powerful player; it was exciting."

Akaya had to agree, though he found his mind wandering down side paths it really shouldn't be at the moment, and hauled himself back on topic. He hoped he wasn't blushing, now. The sudden hint of speculation in the angle of Sasaki's brows didn't make him hope very hard. Sasaki didn't ask, though, for which Akaya was very grateful.

"So, Prefecturals were as boring as usual?" he asked instead.

"Deathly," Akaya agreed, sourly, now that he didn't have to set an example for any teammates.

Sasaki laughed. "So come play a more interesting game," he invited with a grin.

And it certainly was far more interesting than the past few weeks had been. Sasaki was a very good player, indeed, and Akaya relaxed against that strength with a shiver of relief. It was good not to have to think about little details every second, good to let go and stretch out against an opponent he absolutely had to throw everything at.

Sasaki was smiling even more brightly when they met at the net. "Impressive."

Suzuoki grunted from the sidelines. "Perhaps. But it's still a bad habit." He snorted when they both cocked their heads at him. "The techniques of not-thinking are strong ones, Kirihara-kun, and you learned them from players who use them well. But if thinking about your game is always a burden to you that will be your weakness."

"So why did you arrange an opponent I could not think with?" Akaya wanted to know, feeling slightly guilty and exasperated by it.

"Because you're not ready," Suzuoki told him, bluntly.

"All right, I take the point; I'll work on it," Akaya grumbled, and looked a bit wistfully up at Sasaki. "Can I still play Sasaki-san sometimes, though? I mean," he added, directly to his not-quite-senpai, "if that's all right?"

"I'd like that." Sasaki gave him a sympathetic look before turning questioning eyes on Suzuoki.

"I suppose so," their coach agreed, grudgingly. "He needs someone stronger to work against; you'll do for now."

"I'm so flattered," Sasaki shot back, dryly.

"Nice to know he's like this with everyone," Akaya muttered.

"Oh, no," Sasaki corrected, quite serene. "He's only like this with the very best. You know," he leaned on the net pole, frowning thoughtfully, "I'd rather have liked to see what he would be like with Sanada-kun and your Yukimura-kun."

"No you don't," Akaya stated, with a shudder at the very idea. "Really." He set the horrifying thought away quite firmly and gave Sasaki a hopeful look. "Can we play one more set?"

It was not, he reflected as they set themselves across from each other again, quite as good as playing Sanada-san. But there were enough similarities to make him happy for now.

End

The Rush

Kirihara's second spin through Regionals, and Nationals, as a captain this time. Drama, I-3

The pace of what Akaya couldn't help but think of as the real tournament season had two very different parts. There was the daily practice with his team, which, while demanding and sometimes intense, had a smooth swoop to it. And then there were the actual tournament matches, that sprinted along like a heartbeat after an adrenaline spike. Aside from the pressure of the matches themselves, he finally decided it was the people that made the difference. His own team was familiar; he knew them. Other teams were always a bit of a question mark.

Akaya could feel the difference, pacing down the sidewalks of the grounds hosting Regionals. Rikkai Dai didn't have quite the same edge of cool confidence they'd had last year. The ready fire that had replaced it pleased him, though, even if it did mean keeping an eye out for trouble.

The first bit of trouble turned up, right on schedule, when they came face to face with Fudoumine in front of the match chart.

"Ah, the almost-Champions are here," quipped one of their doubles players, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Ready to defend your second place title?"

Akaya stifled a sigh. Being responsible and captainly and not breaking people like that into little pieces was such a pain. He kept his gaze on Kamio, who, to his credit, looked a lot less cocky and more serious than the one who'd spoken.

Sakamoto was bristling. "Like you have room to talk, Spectator-san," he snapped.

The other player (Mori, wasn't it?) straightened up. "Not this year."

Akaya held up a hand to cut off any escalations from his team. "We'll expect to see you at the final round, then," he told Kamio, and waved Rikkai on. He did take a bit of satisfaction from the disgruntlement on Mori's face at being deprived of any openings. Akaya knew from his own experience just how annoying that could be, when you were geared up to provoke someone. It made his day a little brighter.

Tsunoda, who had taken the opportunity to examine the chart, came up beside him. "Do you think we will see them there? They'll have Rokkaku, Yamabuki and Hyoutei to get through."

"We'll see." Akaya glanced up at Suzuoki. "There shouldn't be anything very urgent on our plate today. Can you take a look at the competition for me?"

"Certainly. Anyone particular you have in mind?"

Akaya huffed with exasperation at the slight curl to their coach's mouth. Everything had to be a test, with Suzuoki. "We know something about Fudoumine already," he sorted teams out loud. "And Hyoutei is across the chart. Seigaku first. Then Hyoutei. I'd like to know something about Rokkaku, this year, too, but there isn't time."

"Send Hisakawa," Suzuoki suggested.

Akaya gave him a sharp look, and nodded slowly. Hisakawa was a good observer. With some experience he might be the analyst of next year's team. Which, of course, was exactly what Suzuoki was suggesting. "Can you tell him some of what to look for?"

"Of course." It was annoying, sometimes, how Suzuoki could sound so disinterested.

"Then I want him to look in on Midoriyama, too." Akaya smiled; that had gotten Suzuoki to look at him straight on. "They still have most of their people from last year. And Seigaku lit a fire under them, then. I want to know how they've turned out."

"Of course." Suzuoki was grinning his thin, sharp grin when he said it this time.

Akaya watched Tsunoda starting to flag. He'd expected that. Kaidou really did have phenomenal staying power. Momoshiro had been wise to put him in Singles Three, the turning point of their matches. Again.

Suzuoki, leaning on the rail behind him, blew smoke past his ear. "Worried about a repeat of last year?" he asked, low voiced.

Akaya snorted. "No."

When he returned to the bench, drenched and panting from his own match with Echizen, Suzuoki smirked at him. "Still not?"

Akaya glared. "No." He thumped down on the bench, and beckoned to Hiiyama. "I'm not worried about you winning this," he said, quietly. "But don't underestimate Momoshiro. He's an analytical player, and a tricky one. Think like you were playing Niou-senpai."

His vice-captain nodded, silently.

Akaya sat back to watch.

"Kirihara-buchou?" This time it was Niiyama leaning on the rail behind him.

"Yes?"

"Did you take Singles Two so you could play Echizen?"

Akaya cocked his head at Niiyama. "Hm. Caught your attention, did he?"

Niiyama looked aside and shrugged. Akaya smiled. He could come back to that later; now looked like a good time for another little push. "Well I didn't object to the idea, that's for sure. But it was kind of a gamble. If Momoshiro had placed Echizen in Singles One, the match would have ended with that last set, because Momoshiro isn't strong enough to beat me." He fell silent, waiting to see how Niiyama would take that.

The look on Niiyama's face was a little sour. "That's kind of... well..."

"The kind of tactic the weaker team uses?" Akaya finished, softly. "It could have looked that way, yes. But strategy is also part of the game; and a good strategy lets you win either way." Words of wisdom from Niou-senpai and Yanagi-san both.

"Mm." Niiyama frowned, and Akaya left the lesson at that. "Buchou, do you think..." Niiyama paused, and Akaya raised a brow. "Do you think I might get a chance to play Echizen?"

"Almost certainly. Next year," the spirit of bedevilment prompted Akaya to reply. He relented, though, at Niiyama's unamused glower. "It's possible." There was, after all, a certain precedent for practice matches. It could be good for Niiyama.

After he'd polished his game a little more with Fudoumine, perhaps Akaya would set it up.

Akaya leaned against the fence beside Momoshiro, wearing a rueful smile. Echizen was hammering Niiyama into the clay.

And they were both grinning.

"Your player looks like he's having fun," Momoshiro observed, sounding amused.

Akaya shrugged. "He asked to play Echizen, after our Regionals match. I wouldn't have agreed if I didn't think he'd get something out of it."

Momoshiro cocked his head. "Is that why you threw him in against Fuji Yuuta, when you played Fudoumine?"

Akaya reminded himself to take his own advice and not underestimate Momoshiro. "It's good to play a variety of opponents," was all he said.

"Yeah," Momoshiro snorted, "how else could you and Echizen pick up so many weird moves to throw at each other."

That, Akaya didn't answer at all. Anything he said would give too much away to an analyst as sharp as the one standing beside him. He didn't really want the people they might still face at Nationals to know that he'd finally learned what Suzuoki-sensei meant, and had figured out exactly why he'd lost to Seigaku's Fuji last year.

It was fun, all right, to toss techniques back and forth with Echizen, playing in a hall of mirrors where anything either of them used might be reflected back again. But it was ultimately useless unless he kept enough awareness to gauge his own strength and movement, and plan accordingly.

Niiyama, now... Akaya watched as he dashed to catch a Drive B. Niiyama would have to come at it from a different angle, he thought. Niiyama tended even more to the straightforward than Akaya had; his best path might simply be to find the strength to support that. If Niiyama found the point where he just acted, Akaya suspected his game might become pure enough to approach even Echizen's. Not that he'd likely be around to see it. "It's really annoying that the High School and Junior High divisions have tournaments at the same time," he remarked with a sigh.

Momoshiro made agreeing noises, apparently following Akaya's train of thought. "There's always video, but it just won't be the same," he mourned.

Considering the possibilities running in the other direction, though, Akaya decided he wouldn't complain too much. He wanted to have a little edge of surprise on his senpai, after all. He smiled as Niiyama drove back a smash. Let Niiyama try to catch him by surprise, too. Fair was fair.

Akaya bounced the ball, eyeing Ibu across the net. He wasn't really surprised that the last round of Nationals had gone to Singles One, though he hadn't expected it to be because Chiba and Furuya slipped up. Clearly, winning against Fudoumine at Regionals had made them cocky. He was going to have a talk with them about overconfidence, as the pair's rather hangdog expressions showed they knew.

He could feel Ibu's focus on him, like the edge of a knife laid against his skin. Not unexpected—he'd known Ibu would be all the more dangerous for having lost once. Now it was time to see who could keep better control of his temper. That was still the crux when he and Ibu played.

As his first serve came back at him, low and fast, it crossed Akaya's mind to be grateful that the final round was against Fudoumine, not Seigaku. Playing Echizen was a rush, albeit with a frustrating aftermath when he came down and realized he'd lost again. But Echizen was too bright, and he dragged people along with him. Ibu played fiercely, but colder, and against him Akaya could find the place he needed, sink down and ride the edge of not-thinking without losing himself in it.

Unlike their last game, this one was silent. Silent and deliberate, for all their speed. Ibu's play was quicksilver, slipping aside from direct attacks only to slash straight in through the slightest gap in attention. Quite like their last one, though, Akaya reflected, as he caught a vicious ankle shot and dropped it back over the net, they were still taunting each other. Body shots and shots that were just barely misses, silent threats and provocations, flew between them—a contest of precision and anger and temptation.

It was, he decided, a damn good thing he wasn't trying to injure Ibu, or he would have been caught in the spiral and pulled off his focus just the way Ibu wanted him to be.

In the end, Akaya wondered whether it wasn't Ibu's own disbelief that Akaya could resist that lure that gave him the edge he needed. He tucked the lesson away in his mind and returned Suzuoki's smirk with an even look, as the referee declared game, set and match.

This year's award and closing ceremonies seemed strange to Akaya. What supported him, as they waited through speeches and stood for pictures, was not a sense of triumph, as when he was a spectator in his first year. He felt triumph, certainly. But what he felt most was quiet satisfaction.

"Dazed?" Suzuoki asked in a low voice as they wound their way through the dispersing crowd.

Akaya snorted out a half-laugh. "Maybe just relaxed; not sure I could tell the difference."

"Hm." They walked in silence the rest of the way, and it wasn't until they were watching the team file onto the bus that Suzuoki spoke again. "You've done well."

Akaya blinked at this rare bit of praise, and smiled. "Yeah," he agreed, softly. "We did."

End

Extra - Rematch

Kirihara finally gets that serious match he wanted out of Tachibana. Drama, I-2

Akaya flipped restlessly through the pages of his book, cursing the English language and the educators who thought it was a good idea to make Japanese schoolchildren learn it. The voice that interrupted him wasn't one he especially wanted to hear, most times, but at the moment even Seigaku's terrifying old lady coach would have been welcome.

"Kirihara?" Tachibana stopped beside him, eyeing the stack of books on the park bench. "You've come a long way to find someplace to study." He sounded amused, and Akaya growled, totally out of patience with everyone who had already gotten past the high school entrance exams.

And this was just the start of the study season, he reflected glumly.

Nevertheless, he had a sufficient fingernail-grip on his manners to answer without actually spitting. "If I'm doomed to study, I might as well do it in the sun."

"Ah. I find a study partner often helps, too," Tachibana offered with mild sympathy.

That made Akaya snort a little with laughter. "Yeah, well. My study partner threatened to nail my feet to the floor and tape my hands to the book if I didn't stop fidgeting. A break seemed like a good idea for both of us." School work tended to flatten out Hiiyama's always subtle sense of humor completely.

That got a brief laugh out of Tachibana, too. "That bad, hm?" Akaya could tell the moment Tachibana's eye lit on the tennis bag Akaya had taken along out of habit, because his smile suddenly turned considering and far less impersonal. "How about a game, to work off the jitters, then? Since we're both here."

Akaya shut his book with a clap and shoved the whole stack back into his bag. "That would be fantastic," he agreed with enthusiasm.

Four games later, he was getting annoyed again.

He stood in the middle of the court with his hands on his hips, giving Tachibana a very displeased look. "I thought you said you would play for real the next time we played, Tachibana-san."

He got a cool once-over in return. "Are you saying I'm not, Kirihara?"

"Yes that's what I'm saying!" Akaya snapped. He stalked to the net, glaring. "I saw you play at Nationals. This," he waved a hand, "is you holding back!"

Tachibana stood still, considering him for a long moment. "You're restraining yourself as well," he pointed out at last, quietly.

Akaya was now thoroughly aggravated. "I can't do anything else while you're playing like this! It wouldn't..." he broke off, chewing on his lip. "It wouldn't be right," he mumbled finally, looking aside. Tachibana broke into a brilliant smile, and Akaya glared again. "Yeah, yeah, fine, I get it, all right? Now can we play for real?" It must be some kind of disease captains caught, wanting to reform players, he decided grumpily. At least he restrained himself to only picking on his own players.

"For real," Tachibana agreed. "Your serve, Kirihara."

This time the return nearly took the racquet out of Akaya's hands, and he smiled. That was more like it. Still concientiously trying to remember Suzuoki's advice, he edged toward greater intensity instead of diving headlong. Every step he took, though, every increase in strength, in speed, in ferocity, Tachibana met and passed, daring him to keep going. By the time the last point slammed home, Akaya was shivering with the effort of not matching the taunting undercurrent of violence in Tachibana's game, too. That, he hadn't expected.

"Are you all right?" Tachibana asked, voice concerned, as they met at the net.

"Yes." Akaya breathed in and out, carefully. "Can we do that again?"

Tachibana blinked at him. Akaya knew it wasn't exactly approved of, to train with someone from another team, but... how else could he really learn to deal with that part of his game? Instead of just supressing it.

And for that matter, how else could Tachibana learn to do it?

... all right, so maybe Akaya didn't confine himself to his own players.

"It's the time of year for studying," he offered, obliquely.

One corner of Tachibana's mouth curled up wryly. "I suppose it is." He gazed at Akaya for a long moment before nodding. "All right. Give me a call the next time you have a study date around here."

Akaya grinned at the sardonic note in Tachibana's tone. "I will."

This might be fun.

End

Immanent

A new, young samurai arrives at the central castle of the Uesugi clan. Drama, I-3

Echizen Ryouma had been in Kasugayama for a week, and one of Uesugi's warriors for three and a half days, before he ran into trouble. It was different than the trouble he'd expected.

One of the older and, in his briefly considered opinion, obviously lesser samurai was watching Ryouma while he practiced cuts alone. He'd known to expect that; people generally did watch him and it didn't make any more difference to him than the slight tickle of sweat running down his neck or the small roughness against his palm where the wood of the practice sword had been chipped. It was when the man started talking to his friend that trouble started.

Not for Ryouma, of course. Not yet.

"So that's supposed to be one of our new warriors? What, are the generals taking on pages, now, and letting them walk around with their fathers' swords strapped on, pretending they're samurai?" The man's friends chuckled with him.

Since Ryouma wouldn't have touched his father's sword if it had been delivered as a gift with the Emperor's compliments, he snorted.

The talkative one straightened up from the wall where he'd been leaning. "You! What was that? Are you disrespecting your betters?"

Ryouma straightened in turn and eyed the loud-mouth coolly. "No."

It took a moment, but eventually the implication penetrated and the loud-mouth started turning red and stepped forward with a hand tight on his sword. "Why you..."

A corner of Ryouma's mouth turned up. It was always so easy; too easy, really, but he did get some amusement from teaching idiots not to make assumptions. His weight shifted and his shoulders relaxed as he waited for the loud-mouth to come into range.

A shadow filled the doorway. "Enough of that, Arai." The newcomer smacked the loud-mouth briskly across the back of the head. "You know how Taishou feels about fights. You want to lose your head? And the kid's too?"

"Momoshiro-taii!" the loud-mouth sputtered. "But...!"

The newcomer raised his brows and the loud-mouth hunched his shoulders and backed away. The newcomer cocked his head at Ryouma, still standing and quietly watching. "If you didn't know, fighting in the clan is forbidden, here," the man smiled.

Ryouma shrugged a shoulder; he doubted it would matter. Fights found him and he found fights, no matter what the rules were. The newcomer paused and looked at him harder, eyes suddenly gleaming. "Of course, training hard, on the other hand, is encouraged," he murmured. He plucked a wooden sword off the rack and stepped out onto the floor, grinning. A streak of sunshine from one of the windows made his inviting glance even brighter.

Ryouma eyed him for a moment and grinned back. This one looked like a better challenge than the loud-mouth; if he was a captain he should be at least a little good. Ryouma slipped into the dusk between the slanting bars of gold light and set his feet.

After six exchanges Ryouma was smiling for real and shifted his sword to his left hand. He'd been right; Momoshiro was strong. He ignored the murmurs from the watchers around the walls, as inconsequential as the dusty breeze blowing in the door. Momoshiro's teeth flashed white at him. "That's more like it."

Ryouma's grin turned wicked and pleased. This Momoshiro had seen that he wasn't leading with his strongest hand. It looked like a captain, in Uesugi's forces, really was a little good. Good. That made this match worth something.

The next pass sent them both staggering back with impressive bruises starting, he could tell, and Ryouma spun around, feet sliding over the sleek wood of the floor, ready to lunge in at full strength.

Momoshiro stepped back. "Good practice," he declared. "I'll have to be sure to defeat you quickly, next time."

Ryouma considered this and nodded, resting his practice sword over his shoulder. "Later, then." A corner of his mouth curled up. "When your leg is healed, Taii."

The captain blinked at him and laughed. "I like you." He reached out to rumple Ryouma's hair as he left, now limping a bit though there was no blood showing through the bandage Ryouma was sure must be wrapped around his calf.

He glared a bit after Momoshiro's broad back and smoothed his hair back down and settled back to his solitary practice, ignoring the whispers and glances around him. A tiny smile lingered.

Maybe he would like it here.

End

Unnoticed

Echizen escorts Sakuno and deals with a little trouble. Other sorts of trouble, he misses completely. Drama, I-3

Sakuno's eyes were sparkling behind the light veils of her travelling hat.

Not only had Sumire-gozen said that she might go visit the local shrine, but Echizen-dono was escorting her. Sakuno suspected Sumire-gozen had had something to do with that. Normally the high-handed manner of her mother's noble cousin alarmed her, but if Sumire-gozen approved of someone then no one else would thwart them.

Even the clan lord didn't often go against his mother's wishes.

And it seemed that Sumire-gozen approved of Echizen-dono and the fact that Sakuno liked him. However much the crowds out on the streets jostled around her, nothing could make Sakuno regret coming out in public today.

Even if there were an awful lot of awfully loud people...

"Don't you know anything? The Tatsumi school holds the saya like that, so you can draw like this!"

Sakuno squeaked, starting back and treading on her own hem so that she wobbled, as a blade swished past her nose, close enough to catch on her long veils. The brightly dressed samurai demonstrating for his friends didn't seem to notice.

"That training journey you took really taught you a lot, Sasabe-sama," one of them exclaimed.

The one with his sword out laughed expansively. He was in the middle of the way, now. Sakuno bit her lip, wondering how she could pass.

Beside her, Echizen-dono looked around and sniffed. "You must not have journeyed very far. That isn't the Tatsumi school's grip."

The gaudy samurai spun around, face red. "What?!" His sword speared out, pointing between Echizen-dono's eyes. "What does a brat like you know about it?"

Echizen tipped his head to the side, so careless of the sharp point a bare thumb's width from his face that Sakuno gasped. "Well, if you need a lesson..." He dropped his hand to his sword. "It's the first finger that holds the guard. Like this." Steel flashed and his sword struck the other aside so hard it spun out of the other samurai's hand. Echizen-dono lifted a brow. "And your grip is too weak."

"E-Echizen-dono..." Sakuno whispered behind her hand. That was... an awfully provoking thing to say... And then she stumbled a little as the fuming samurai pushed past her to retrieve his sword.

"I'll give you a lesson, you little runt!" he yelled, making a lunge toward Echizen-dono.

Echizen-dono slipped back out of the way of a vicious cut. "Is that the fastest you can move?" The other samurai didn't answer, glare fixed and furious, and Echizen-dono shrugged, left foot sliding out, sword dropping low.

"Hah! You think you can defend from below?" The angry samurai bared his teeth and swung down.

Sakuno wasn't sure what happened next. Echizen-dono's sword barely seemed to twitch but the other man's strike went awry and he stumbled forward, eyes wide.

"Too slow," Echizen-dono said, softly. There was another flash and the other man was down in the street, clutching his leg and keening through clenched teeth as blood pooled rapidly under his thigh.

Echizen-dono flicked his sword away from Sakuno with a snap of his wrist and sheathed it, and turned to look Sakuno up and down. "You didn't get dirty. Good. Let's get to the shrine, then."

Sakuno hurried to his side and they walked on, leaving the commotion behind as the wounded samurai's friends clustered around him, shouting.

"Echizen-dono... thank you," Sakuno murmured at last, blushing.

Echizen-dono blinked at her. "For what?"

"Ah... nothing." She tilted the edge of her hat a little lower, wondering whether Echizen-dono was just being modest or whether he really didn't think protecting her needed comment.

Or, she admitted to herself with a silent sigh, maybe he hadn't done it for her at all. He was a samurai, after all; she was young, but she knew how the men of her own class could be about fights and challenges. Sumire-gozen complained about it enough, even though she smiled when she did.

Perhaps she'd ask the kami to tell her which it was, and whether she had any hope of drawing the eye of someone like Echizen-dono.

They walked on with silence drifting between them.

End

Tarnished

Tezuka watches his newest warrior and wonders about him. Drama, I-3

Kunimitsu watched his men training, silently, eyes moving from one to another, pausing to rest on the group in the corner, leaning on their blunt spears and laughing, until they fell quiet and straightened and returned to practice. His gaze returned, again and again, though, to one particular pair of warriors.

"So, Echizen convinced Inui to train with him? Such impressive enthusiasm."

Kunimitsu glanced aside at Fuji, come to stand with him and watch. "Inui invited him."

Fuji's brows rose and he looked more sharply at the circling pair as they closed yet again. "He's interested by someone so young? Echizen can't have had a man's name for more than a year or two." The murmur was absent, though, and Kunimitsu waited to hear what Fuji saw.

Inui was pressing the younger warrior, never following the openings offered by Echizen's stance, always cutting for the real weakness. Echizen's eyes were wide and sweat had soaked through his shirt in places, even in the cool morning air, but...

"He's not afraid," Fuji stated.

Kunimitsu nodded agreement. Echizen wasn't afraid. He was watching.

Inui's next strike didn't connect. Echizen's wooden sword slid inside his and slashed high across his hip. Inui was suddenly stiff as they stepped apart again, and Echizen was grinning. Kunimitsu settled back a bit.

"You think he'll win."

Kunimitsu glanced at Fuji and didn't answer. Inui was the best tactician among the Uesugi forces. No one could count more than a handful of successful attacks on him, in training, besides the other generals. And Fuji, of course.

But this boy, with the sharp eyes and unreasonable strength and arrogant mouth, was going to defeat Inui in a training bout.

"He'll come with us, when we move out next month," Kunimitsu said, and Fuji cocked his head.

"Will that be enough to show you? Kaga's forces are pretty raw."

Kunimitsu was quiet for a moment, watching the soft, warm sheen of polished wood as practice swords flickered in the morning shadows of the training hall, listening to the crack and scrape as they met.

"When the temple in Kaga gathered the peasants and small samurai to rise," he said at last, softly, "Tachibana was wise enough to ally them to one of the stronger overlords, to throw the rest out. And when they had, he and those he had gathered to him were strong enough to throw Togashi out in turn. Tachibana himself..." Kunimitsu's eyes narrowed. "They will be enough."

It was Fuji's turn to nod silently and Kunimitsu settled back against the wall as Fuji moved away through the training pairs.

Kaga would be a good place to see Echizen's real mettle. Kunimitsu's mouth tightened.

Echizen's form was beautiful. Deadly.

And wrong.

Somehow, it was both too much and not enough. There was a hunger and a bleakness behind those bright, focused eyes, a desperation that contrasted strangely with his obvious strength. Kunimitsu needed to know what was wrong, and know it before this ragged edge on Echizen's spirit cut apart any of his fellow samurai.

He would hope to find out when they fought Kaga, and Tachibana's men.

End

Need Beyond Want

Echizen enters his first battle as a samurai of Uesugi, against the forces of Kaga under Tachibana. Drama, I-3

Momo snorted with disgust as his only opponnent of the day so far broke and scrambled back. He let the man go, though; the signal banners were changing. Momo nodded to himself as the colors came up and yelled "Fall back!" to his squad, and waded back into the fight to make sure the very few men with determined opponents got free. One last scan of his bit of the field revealed one last warrior still engaged and Momo frowned. Echizen was good enough, he shouldn't need any extra time...

"Echizen," he called sharply, "fall back!"

Echizen didn't even seem to hear him. Momo waved his squad on, with a growl, and went back for Echizen himself, keeping a wary eye out. These worthless rounin Kaga had taken on after Ginka's fall might be jumping at their own shadows, but, as his father said, you were just as dead if they killed you with a big stick.

They would probably have been fine if Echizen's opponent hadn't seen himself about to be caught between the two of them and panicked. Momo reacted automatically to the man's desperate, circling slash.

So did Echizen.

It ended with Momo's and Echizen's swords tangled and the unharmed opponent staring, open mouthed, at his amazing good luck. He scrambled back without questioning it, leaving Momo and Echizen glaring at each other.

"Why did you interfere?" Echizen snapped.

"We're supposed to be falling back," Momo growled back. "Don't you ever pay attention?" He hauled Echizen back toward the rallying point with him, and Echizen came, scowling.

"I had him."

Momo muttered under his breath, wondering what had possessed him to offer to keep Echizen under his wing, for his first battle with Uesugi. Just because he liked the kid's style...

The kid's very aggressive, really kind of familiar style...

"Fine," Momo snorted, hiding the start of a grin. "See if I ever try to remind you about orders again."

Echizen glanced up at him, eyes suddenly gleaming. "Whatever you say. Momo-taii-dono." His own grin was bright and wicked.

They smirked at each other, in perfect complicity, and dove back into the fighting.

Kunimitsu suppressed a rueful sigh as he realized that Ooishi was, indeed, planning to keep close to him the entire battle. He knew his friend didn't approve of Kunimitsu coming even this far forward.

His doctor probably wouldn't be very pleased, either.

A nearly healed injury was no excuse for ignoring his duties, though, and he had a duty to be here, to show his standard and anchor the lines he had ordered. Even, or perhaps especially, his oldest friend knew better than to dispute that.

So Kunimitsu merely had a bodyguard.

Of course, there was an extra reason he wanted to be far enough forward to observe closely, today, and Kunimitsu's mouth tightened a shade as Momoshiro hauled a severely limping Echizen past the last of the engaged warriors. The hasty bandage on the boy's leg was already bleeding through.

"Looks like he got into trouble, after all," Ooishi murmured, pulling loose a sash and waving the two in.

Kunimitsu was not surprised, any more than he'd been surprised to see Echizen fighting the strongest, and wildest, of Tachibana's warriors.

Echizen bore with having his leg rebandaged and stood with a brisk nod. Momoshiro tossed his sword back to him, and they both looked satisfied.

Ooishi, on the other hand, did not. He shook Echizen by the shoulder, sharply. "You can't go back out like that!"

Echizen didn't even wince at the shaking. "I have to finish it." His eyes were nearly blank with determination and dark with wariness, gazing up at Ooishi.

Ooishi frowned. "You've done well, today. Don't push yourself foolishly. It's more important to continue fulfilling your duty, as a samurai of Uesugi."

On anyone else, Kunimitsu reflected, that appeal to propriety and pride would have worked. No flicker of acknowledgment marred the boundless determination of Echizen's expression, though. Only a hint of the need Kunimitsu had seen before.

Kunimitsu nodded to himself and held up a hand, stifling a smile as Ooishi frowned at him, in turn. "Finish it," he told Echizen. "And then you will come back behind the lines with the other wounded."

Pure relief lit Echizen's face with a smile that might have been soft if it weren't sharpened by such intent focus. "Yes, Taishou."

"Tezuka," Ooishi remonstrated softly, as they watched Echizen drive back through the battle, straight for a slim, pale samurai with burning eyes who was clearly waiting for him.

"There's nothing that holds him back, right now," Kunimitsu murmured. "And nothing that drives him on. Nothing true."

Ooishi let out a slow breath.

Kunimitsu watched Tachibana's warrior falling back as Echizen's stikes steadily picked up speed and strength. "He deserves better."

He didn't know if he could show Echizen everything the boy needed to see. But he would try.

For duty and for the brilliance of the samurai Echizen might become, he would try.

End

Hold

Tezuka tries to break through to Echizen. Drama, I-3

"Echizen. Come with me."

Ryouma blinked at that casual summons, but waved to Kachiro and followed along behind the General calmly enough. Everyone said he'd done well against Kaga and he was reasonably sure he wasn't in trouble. Whatever reason Tezuka-dono had to come fetch him just as Ryouma's work shift ended, it probably wouldn't be any worse than boring.

He thought twice about not being in trouble when they came out into the practice grounds. Tezuka-dono's ideas about keeping order ran heavily to extra training. With weights. For hours. Not that it was any difficulty to him, but it did take up a lot of time, and it was near sunset already. Ryouma glanced around and saw no one else working in the soft, slanting light. They were probably all eating. Was he going to miss dinner completely because of whatever this was?

Then the General turned to face him across the practice ground and loosened his sword, and a spark of excitement brushed aside those thoughts. Ryouma could feel his pulse speeding up as the General drew and nodded for him to do likewise. Tezuka-dono had ignored all his previous hints, but now it looked like he was finally going to get a match against the warrior who was supposed to be strongest, out of all Uesugi's forces.

"Come," Tezuka-dono told him without any preamble, light sliding down his edge as he beckoned.

Ryouma smirked, and cheerfully did as he was told.

He expected his first slash to be caught. He did not expect it to be turned easily aside, as if he'd attacked at completely the wrong angle. He backed up again, fast, eyes wide, knowing he'd been open.

Tezuka-dono's expression was no longer even. Still and steady, it burned. "Come."

Ryouma's eyes narrowed, and he did.

Blow after blow, no matter how he came in, every one was caught, turned, the force muffled and spent for nothing. Ryouma's focus narrowed, and narrowed again, searching for the key, the pattern in Tezuka-dono's movements that he could match. He could almost see it; he could catch parts, but something was escaping him no matter how far he reached for it.

In the end it was his own pattern that broke first. One step lunging just too far beyond his balance, and Tezuka-dono's foot brushed his aside, and Ryouma stumbled to his knees. Training and determination brought his sword in, ready to cut upwards, and...

Ryouma knelt where he was, staring up at the General. He could feel the deadly thin line of Tezuka-dono's sword against his throat. It didn't move when the General spoke.

"Why do you fight, Echizen?"

"To win... against my father," Ryouma managed.

"Your father isn't here."

No, he wasn't, though there'd been a few times in this fight when Ryouma would have sworn he was. Except that Tezuka-dono was nothing the same. Except that Ryouma had... lost... he never lost, except to... but Tezuka-dono wasn't... Ryouma's thoughts tangled, and he couldn't answer.

The edge of the sword flicked away. Instead, the General's unmoving gaze pinned Ryouma where he was. "You are part of Uesugi. Find your place in support of this clan."

His place? Support? What did that have to do with his father? Ryouma got slowly to his feet as the General stepped back. He felt rather unsteady on them; he hadn't lost to anyone but his father in years. Now there was... another bar. There was a challenge, serious and steady and sharp as his sword, in Tezuka-dono's eyes. Ryouma pulled in what felt like his first breath in hours. Days.

Maybe even years.

"Yes, Taishou."

End

Washed Dry

Fuji decides to try his hand against Echizen. It provokes a lot of thought. Drama and Romance, I-3

Tezuka had been in a demanding mood, lately, Shuusuke observed. The results were fairly entertaining, at least for those strong enough to actually keep up with the suddenly increased pace of the garrison's training. He had to wonder, though, who they were going to be taking the field against after the rains were over; it had to be someone with a powerful force, to drive this sort of effort.

Tezuka didn't answer questions like that, of course, not directly. He would only confirm them, silently, if Shuusuke guessed right. So, for now, Shuusuke simply wiped dripping sweat away briskly and looked around for someone still on his feet to practice with.

His eyes lit on Echizen, leaning on a fence catching his breath quietly. Echizen's head had a sardonic tilt as he watched the histrionics of some of the other young samurai, declaring that they were about to die of exhaustion. Shuusuke chuckled to himself; he had to agree, no one who could still complain that loudly was anywhere near death. He collected a pair of wood swords and tapped Echizen on the shoulder with one. "Care for a match?"

Shuusuke saw Tezuka's head come up from the corner of his eye and threw a small, quick smile over his shoulder. It wasn't fair, his glance said, for Tezuka to have all the fun.

The sword left his hand, and when he looked back around Echizen was grinning.

Shuusuke felt a touch of excitement flicker along his nerves as they moved out into the open, feet scuffing up tiny puffs of dust to mark where they set themselves. Echizen was good. Not good enough to make Shuusuke lose, but perhaps...

The thought suspended itself as Echizen drove in and every movement sharpened its edges in Shuusuke's eyes. He turned one blow and slid inside another but Echizen was already gone, turning too, and Shuusuke barely recognized the abruptly tightening angle of his side stroke in time to stop it. Echizen's grin was a notch wider as they drew apart. Shuusuke's own smile sharpened for an instant. Well, if Echizen was so confident he could break through...

Shuusuke gave him a clean opening and was hard put not to laugh when Echizen took it instantly. A smooth shift back drew Echizen in and sent him on past, all the driving power of his thrust no longer directed at Shuusuke. Echizen whipped back around, eyes narrowed, and Shuusuke smiled at him. Echizen's glare lit with answering ferocity and Shuusuke had to take a slow breath for focus and control as Echizen's passion tugged at him. This was what a good fight should be like.

Another opening, and another, and another. Echizen came after every one with fire in his eyes, and Shuusuke was aware of the watchers starting to murmur. They probably thought it was just Echizen's stubbornness, he reflected. But he could feel it—the tiny changes every time their swords met, the constant pressure of Echizen seeking the weakness in Shuusuke's defense. Thrill sang through him, kept him offering those openings just to see the beauty of Echizen's straight, driving lines, just to feel that rare danger.

And finally there was one more tiny shift that didn't seem to call for any alteration in Shuusuke's stance... but Echizen's sword flashed over his own and kissed his ribs. They broke apart, both panting for breath, and satisfaction barely touched Echizen's face before that ferocious, driving focus consumed it again.

"You don't have to give me chances any more, Fuji-dono," he prodded, and Shuusuke chuckled.

"Well, then." They came together again, hard and fast.

It wouldn't happen yet, no matter how much Tezuka had set Echizen on his mettle, but the possibility of losing breathed through every contact of their swords and danced chill down Shuusuke's nerves. So much so that he didn't recognize the real chill air stirring around them until sudden, drenching rain swept down. Shouts and clatters rose around the practice ground as men grabbed up weapons and made for cover.

Shuusuke and Echizen stood, unmoving in the sheeting gray wet, eyes fixed on each other.

A single flash of lightning showed another figure, as unmoving as either of them, standing by the fence with folded arms. Shuusuke smiled as thunder shivered through the rush of rain; Tezuka would not stop them.

Their feet slid in the wet dirt as they closed, this time, but the angles of motion were as tight and brilliant as ever in Shuusuke's sight. It was exhilarating. It was beautiful. It was...

...interrupted by a dripping messenger skidding to a halt at Tezuka's side. "Taishou! Sumire-gozen is asking for Echizen."

Shuusuke thought he might just have caught a flash of calculation in Tezuka's eyes before he nodded. "Echizen! Go dry off and attend on Sumire-gozen."

Echizen lowered his sword and gave Tezuka such a look of betrayal that Shuusuke could barely stifle his laugh. Echizen glared at him for a long, fulminating moment before stumping off through the rain muttering. Tezuka's glance after him narrowed with a moment of satisfaction. Shuusuke shook his head; always the leader, Tezuka was.

His thoughts felt slick. Fast and flashing. Shuusuke watched Tezuka dismissing the messenger and the lingering samurai and waited for the world to slow, the distance to recede and bring him back to everyday.

Before it quite had, he heard Tezuka's footsteps behind him.

"Why did you toy with him like that?" his friend asked, quietly. "Echizen is not a light opponent. Why didn't you fight to win?"

Shuusuke lifted a hand and let the drops of rain patter against open his palm. "It's thrilling to see something so close to perfection; to draw it out fully. That's all I wanted." He cast a rueful smile over his shoulder, suspecting Tezuka wouldn't like that. Still, considering what he was positive had happened between Tezuka and Echizen recently... "Would you have done it differently?" he challenged lightly.

The faintly troubled question in Tezuka's face washed away. "Victory is our duty," he stated inflexibly. "And it should be our only calling." A shadow of weariness touched his eyes. "This is why you're not an officer, Fuji."

Shuusuke bent his head. "I know." He sighed softly. He still thought he was right about why Tezuka was so taken with Echizen, that he was drawn by the same fascination that engaged Shuusuke. But... perhaps there was also more, for Tezuka.

The warmth of Tezuka's hand on his shoulder was shocking, and he realized he'd cooled down too much, standing in the rain. So he didn't protest when Tezuka beckoned him to come along and they passed through a handful of courts and walks to arrive at Tezuka's house. Ayame met them at the entry to welcome her husband home and covered a soft laugh to see how drenched they were. When they emerged from the inner rooms, dry and decently clothed again, she looked up from heating sake with a smile. "Will you eat with us, Shuusuke-dono? It's been too long since you visited."

"I wouldn't want to impose," Shuusuke murmured, an answering smile curving his lips at how Tezuka's hand lingered on Ayame's as he took a cup from her, and the way their eyes warmed as they met.

"It isn't an imposition at all," Ayame declaimed more firmly than mere manners required, turning back to her guest. "Your company would be a favor."

So Shuusuke let himself stay and be enfolded in the serenity of Tezuka's household. The irony of that serenity always appealed to him. He knew perfectly well Ayame controlled the house with an iron hand to match her husband's, for all her gentle charm. The contrast had entertained him for as long as he'd known them. The genuine warmth between husband and wife plucked at him, though, the moreso for how subtle it was; they fit each other so well, and it was in an effort to turn his mind aside from those thoughts that he asked, "Was it like that for you, when you fought Echizen?"

Tezuka's brow quirked. "So you did know about it, then."

"Mm." Shuusuke took another sip. "It was fairly obvious. To me, at least."

Tezuka looked out at the rain that was still falling. "Echizen needs true challenges."

"You seem to have given him one," Shuusuke observed. Echizen had certainly been more focused today than had been usual in the past.

"I gave him a beginning." Tezuka's eyes were distant. "We will see. Even someone who finds his way doesn't always go down it."

When Shuusuke left, this time covered by a straw raincoat at Ayame's insistence, he headed straight down into the town. Only occasional lamps lit a bit of darkness with silvery flickers of rain, but he took a path his feet knew without any direction from his eyes. He smiled gently at the girl who met him at the door.

"Will Yumiko see me?"

He waited in the room she showed him to, gazing silently past the slats of the window. It was sooner than he expected when the door whispered open and closed.

"Shuusuke!"

He looked up and smiled ruefully. Yumiko was dressed for the evening, kimono falling around her like a story told in silk, hair as light as his own folded sleekly up and held by bright combs. "Did I call you away from someone?"

She dropped down beside him in a rustle of fabric, tossing her sleeves back to hold out her hands to him. "It was a large party. Chiharu will look after them, and they won't miss me."

Shuusuke caught her fingers in his. "I don't believe it," he teased. "No one could possibly not miss you."

She tipped her head and gave him a long, clear-eyed look. "Shuusuke. What happened today?"

His smile relaxed into a laugh. "I can't hide anything from you, can I?"

"Not a thing." She tipped her head thoughtfully for a moment and then drew his hands to her and placed them on the elaborate knot of her obi, smile turning playful. "It's only fair."

Sometimes Yumiko knew him better than he knew himself. Shuusuke let his troublesome thoughts fall away for a while, and it was much later, with the softness of her hair lying over his bare shoulder, that he answered the question she had asked.

"I think Tezuka wants me to be an officer," he said quietly, watching the shadows move over the ceiling. "And I would work toward that if—" Her fingers covered his lips.

"Only an officer is likely to receive enough land to afford my contract," she agreed. "And such a highly placed samurai should not have a courtesan who doesn't know who her father might be for a wife."

Shuusuke sighed. He hadn't really thought her answer would change, but... "I will take you out of this place, Yumiko," he said, low and serious.

She leaned up on one arm, looking down at him as gold lamplight slid over her skin and the depth of her eyes, only a shade darker than his but so much more beautiful. "Someday," she said, at last. "Yes. You will."

Shuusuke smiled, small and true, and drew her back down against him and closed his eyes.

End

Cold Fingers and Hot Drinks

Yuuta and Mizuki train with each other over the winter and find their way toward an understanding. Romance with Drama, I-3

Hajime's hands were cold.

He didn't bother telling himself it was because they were playing outside in the dead of winter. He knew better, and he did try not to lie to himself, at least.

He flexed his fingers around the handle of his racquet, breathing deeply, feeling the chilly air tingle in his lungs.

"Ready whenever you are, Mizuki-san!" Yuuta called cheerfully across the court. Hajime snorted.

"You're always ready," he called back. Before Yuuta could answer, before he could wind himself any tighter than he already was, he threw the ball up and served, hard and fast.

He watched Yuuta catch it, watched Yuuta like a hawk and stooped on the ball as it came back again. And again. And again. The ball would not get away from him; today he would not let it, no matter what. He heard Yuuta laugh, bright and exhilarated, across the net, felt the heaviness of the return straining at his arms and threw it back anyway.

This was terrifying.

Yuuta was a better player than he was. Not a better strategist or athlete or planner. But a better player; he had been for almost a year, now. And today, in defiance of all common sense and logic, Hajime was going to try to win an all-out match from him.

Again.

This was senseless. His hands would be shaking if the racquet wasn't keeping them busy and the ball keeping them steady. He watched and dashed and dove for the ball and always, always sent it back, and felt like he'd taken hold of a live wire and now electricity was running through him, snapping and spitting. He was drenched with sweat, even in the cold, and wondered with every breath if he could keep going.

When they reached six all he wondered if he could stop.

And today whatever fire or fate ruled games like these favored him. The last point was his. Yuuta met him at the net, grinning, nearly glowing. He didn't seem to mind Hajime's victory; he never seemed to.

Hajime was just grateful to get inside and sit down and breathe air that didn't seem to sparkle in his blood.

A clank, and the warmth of a can against his hand, brought him back to the world and he took the coffee Yuuta had brought him. "Thank you."

Yuuta sprawled on the bench beside him, opening his juice. After a moment he said, "You're getting better at that."

Hajime sniffed. "I can read a scoreboard." He knew he was getting better; that was half of what alarmed him. What if he let this passion, this openness, slip out at some other time and knock some delicate calculation or other awry? What if it ran away with him?

Yuuta smiled down at his drink. "I know. I just mean... it's really great to play against you like this."

Hajime regarded Yuuta ruefully. He sometimes wished he wasn't starting to understand that. "I know."

Yuuta traced a finger around the top of the can. "Mizuki-san..." Finally, softly, he said, "Thank you."

Hajime tried to breathe slowly past a sudden tightness in his chest. "For what?" he asked, lightly. All right, so he was, in significant part, doing this for Yuuta—Yuuta didn't know that.

Yuuta raised his head and looked back with such clear eyes that Hajime suddenly doubted his own thought. "For everything," he said, quiet and sure. "For all of this."

Hajime couldn't quite look away, and thought for one crazy moment that he would drown in that living grey. When he spoke, his voice was huskier than he had thought it would be. "Perhaps I should be thanking you."

Yuuta's eyes widened and red stole over his high cheekbones. "Mizuki-san."

One of them was going to have to look away, Hajime decided distantly. Otherwise they'd be here until full darkness fell to separate them. He traded one contact for another and reached out to rest his fingers on the back of Yuuta's hand as he closed his eyes and drew a breath and told himself to be sane.

Yuuta started. "Mizuki-san, your hands are freezing!"

"That," Hajime informed him with dignity, "is because I react like a normal person to winter: by getting cold." Unlike Yuuta, who just seemed to get more bounce in his step the chillier it got outside.

It was his turn to start as Yuuta took his fingers and chafed them between his hands. "You should have said." Yuuta wrapped Hajime's hand back around his still-warm can of coffee.

Hajime hauled his breath back under his control and laughed softly. "Well, there was something outdoors I wanted." He was secretly delighted to see Yuuta color again. Yuuta was so transparently sincere; it was enough to enchant a person, really.

Yuuta resettled his shoulders and lifted his chin. "So. You wanted another game, then?"

Hajime blinked at the riposte and finally laughed out loud.

"Yes, Yuuta. Perhaps I do."

End

Brittle Edge

An outsider samurai visits, looking for a challenge. Echizen gives it to him and comes a little closer to figuring things out. Drama with Action and Blood, I-4

The room was noisy and hot.

Ryouma sat a bit back from his group, far enough that no one could easily refill his sake cup, though that didn't really seem to stop Horio. He watched. Warriors of the garrison laughed loudly, some staggering between the low tables, drunk feet catching on worn places in the floor. Merchants of the town smiled at each other with congratulation or gloating, hands waving over steaming cups. Matrons and servants with market baskets for dinner rested on the benches by the door.

It was just the kind of scene he'd watched before, in another town...

"Echizen! You're not drinking!" Horio leaned precariously far over to elbow Ryouma in the ribs and fill his cup to the brim again.

...though never in quite these circumstances. Ryouma sighed to himself and sipped. It seemed he didn't have a choice, these days. Whether it was Horio dragging him along to drink or Momoshiro to the bathhouse or Kikumaru-taii to the theater with Ooishi-bushou, he seemed to be firmly stuck taking part in the life of the garrison.

It was really a little strange. An improvement over watching his father chase girls in and out of the public houses, but strange.

The door curtains flapped, catching Ryouma's eye, and a samurai he'd never seen before stepped through them. Ryouma tipped his head; a new warrior?

The man prodded one of the drunk samurai by the door with his toe. "Hey. There's supposed to be some strong warriors around here. Who's the strongest?" His flat tone made the back of Ryouma's neck prickle.

The nudged samurai, on the other hand, looked too far gone to notice, and smiled cheerily. "Oh, that would be Tezuka Kunimitsu-sama, our Taishou."

The sudden light in the man's eyes pulled Ryouma forward onto his knees, tense. "Where is he?" the visitor asked.

Arai pushed up from the next table. "Wait a minute. Why do you want to know?" He squinted at the man in the doorway. "You a ronin or something? Taishou doesn't take challenges from the likes of you."

Steel flashed and blood sprayed across the table of suddenly shouting samurai. Arai was on the ground without even a scream. The man's expression didn't change at all. "The likes of you don't tell me what to do." He raised his head and looked around at the samurai with swords out and the commoners scrambling back. The man's eye fell at last on Kachiro, fresh sake bottles held loose in his hands as he stared down at Arai bleeding out nearly at his feet. "You. Where's this Taishou of yours?"

Kachiro paled and Ryouma's eyes narrowed. "He isn't here," he said, clearly, standing. "Other people are, though."

The intruder looked down at him and smiled, thin and crooked. "Oh?" His arm lashed forward again.

Ryouma turned the first cut on his sheath and the man swayed back out of range as Ryouma's own sword licked out. "Yeah."

The man laughed and swung down heavily. Ryouma darted in under it only to take a kick to the stomach from an impossible angle. The intruder's hilt cracked into the side of his face so hard Ryouma saw fireworks behind his eyes as he stumbled back into a table. He wrenched himself back up, bracing for the next blow, knowing it would get through.

Only it never came.

Kawamura-taii stood frozen in the door, hangings half pushed aside as he and the intruder stared at each other. "Akutsu..." he said at last, hesitantly.

The intruder snorted and sheathed his sword with a violent snick. "I'll come back later for your answer." He brushed past Kawamura-taii, striding out into the late summer dusk. The captain looked after him with a troubled frown for a long moment before shaking himself and calling sharply for people to carry Arai up to the castle doctor.

Ryouma pushed himself onto his feet, holding back a wince. A strong hand caught his shoulder, steadying him.

"Are you all right, Echizen?" Kawamura-taii asked quietly.

Ryouma's eyes followed Arai's bloody body out the door. He wasn't at all sure the doctor would be able to do anything. "I'm fine," he bit out.

Or, at least, he would be.

He looked up to meet Kawamura-taii's concerned eyes. "I need to talk to Taishou."

"... so you knew him."

"For years, yes. My mother still talked to his, after she married a... well. But listen, Ooishi, Akutsu is dangerous."

"Well, obviously, if he took Ochibi down like that," Kikumaru-taii chipped in. "But why is he here? You'd think a ronin making trouble would know better."

"Well, there was a rumor that Ise-no-kami, took him on." Kawamura-taii's hands twisted the cloth of his sleeve. "And he has a reputation for sending his warriors on training journeys whether they want to go or not."

"Hmmm."

Ryouma knelt on the mats, ignoring the conversation of the officers as it swirled around him, staring intently at the General, who was staring at one of the lanterns with a distant expression.

"Well, somebody's going to have to meet him, one way or another."

Ryouma caught the firming of the General's mouth and the faint, sharp nod of decision, and leaned forward. "Taishou." He wasn't sure himself whether it was a plea or a demand, in his voice.

Tezuka-dono met his eyes evenly. "Echizen will meet him."

Ryouma settled back, breathing out a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd had to sit on his anger.

It was so much worse when it wasn't just for himself.

They met in the training yard.

"The kid again, hm?" Akutsu looked down at Ryouma with cold eyes.

Ryouma shrugged. "We didn't finish, last time."

This time he was watching properly, and this time he was ready for the attack that came out of nowhere. Three exchanges—five, and he thought he might have Akutsu's rhythm—and then he was knocked back, a slice burning across his shoulder from a stroke with no rhythm or reason. The harsh crack of Akutsu's laughter taunted him as he straightened, eyes narrowed.

There was something strange about this, about the way Akutsu was always looking through him and not at him. Something that let the man attack without reason.

The thought echoed back to him in the General's voice. Without reason...

Ryouma shook his head. He didn't have time to think about it now. He focused and drove himself to move faster, seeing nothing but the wild flex and bend of Akutsu's form. This time it was Akutsu who fell back with blood welling up to trickle down his side. Akutsu pressed his hand to the slash and glanced down at blood streaking his fingers.

Abruptly those flat, cold eyes focused on Ryouma and turned bright. Ryouma's breath caught and the sudden fierceness of Akutsu's grin drew him back in like he was pulled on a string, faster still, muscles burning with the new pace.

One flashing, brutal strike followed another, staggering both of them back with bared teeth only to dive in again. Around and around each other, looking for a way to cut and thinking nothing else. The watching warriors were shouting and Ryouma couldn't hear them over the driving beat of his own heart, faster and faster.

In the end Ryouma's speed finished it, as he'd been almost sure it would, and Akutsu's sword crashed to the dirt behind him. Both of them stood frozen for a long moment before Ryouma nodded and stepped back.

"You lose."

A few chokes around the edges of the yard answered Ryouma's bluntness. Akutsu's hand flashed out to fist in the fabric at Ryouma's neck and drag him close with a snarl.

Ryouma ignored the shouts behind him, and balanced on his toes in Akutsu's grasp, waiting. His opponent's eyes were still bright and intent on him.

Just as abruptly as he'd done everything else, Akutsu let him go and threw back his head, laughing. Ryouma watched him with raised brows as he collected his sword and walked away, still chuckling. Momoshiro appeared at his side, glaring after Akutsu.

"That guy's crazy."

"Mmm." Ryouma frowned a little. He didn't really think Akutsu was crazy... He didn't have much time to reflect, though, before he was buried in congratulations from the rest of the garrison. Ryouma bore with it as patiently as he could, but when he caught sight of Kawamura-taii moving off quietly in the same direction Akutsu had gone, he muttered something about getting cleaned up and escaped.

It wasn't that he was worrying, he decided as he cut behind houses to catch up. Kawamura-taii was an officer, he could look after himself just fine. Ryouma was just... just curious.

Which was why he leaned against the wall around the corner and out of sight, when he finally caught up with the two men.

"Akutsu..." Kawamura-taii said, hesitantly.

"Captain for Uesugi, hm?" The well-bucket rattled and splashed downward. "Place suits you."

"I heard Taira Banda-dono took you on."

A snort. "Old bastard." More splashes and a sound Ryouma readily identified as the stifled hiss of pain from washing a wound. "Don't know if I'll be going back."

"But," Kawamura-taii protested. "Ronin... Akutsu, that isn't..."

"Kawamura," Akutsu interrupted. "I'm satisfied."

There was a long pause Ryouma had no idea how to interpret and then a soft "Oh," from Kawamura-taii. It sounded like he might be smiling, though, when he added. "Good luck."

Another snort. "Whatever. Don't get killed."

"I won't." Definitely smiling.

A new voice, bizarrely bright and cheery called out, "Akutsu-sama! Are you done already?"

Ryouma blinked and risked a quick look around the corner. A boy who looked even younger than him was standing next to Akutsu, arms full of gear, beaming up at him.

Akutsu glared and growled. "Yeah, I'm done. Thought I told you to stay with the damn horses."

The fierce tone didn't even make a dent in the boy's smile. He didn't answer the growl either, just bowed to Kawamura-taii. "I'm Dan Taichi, sir." Then he ignored Kawamura-taii, too, to fuss over the slash in Akutsu's side.

Akutsu snorted and smacked his hands away. "I'm fine, Taichi."

Dan sighed, looking ever so slightly exasperated. "Yes, Akutsu-sama." He cocked his head and looked up—way up—at Akutsu. "So, if you're satisfied, are we going home?" he asked, matter-of-factly.

Ryouma was fascinated—it was like watching a rabbit boss around a wolf.

When a fresh glare didn't work Akutsu turned to shrug his coat back over his shoulders. "Yes," he bit out. Then he glared at Kawamura-taii instead, who quickly stifled the smile twitching at his lips and looked back without saying anything. Akutsu snorted, with a bit less emphasis this time, and waved a casual hand as he turned and walked away. Dan took a more formal leave and trotted to catch up.

Ryouma took a look at Kawamura-taii standing, smiling after them, and quietly took himself off.

As he made for the baths, and hot water to keep him from stiffening up too badly, Ryouma tried to get his mind settled. He felt oddly divided, which was not how he usually felt after a hard fight. This time, though, the passing calm of accomplishment was already ragged.

Unsatisfied.

His sword had satisfied someone. But that someone... wasn't him. He turned the thought over, poking and prodding at it. It had been a good fight. And that seemed to be enough for Akutsu, enough to rest against. Obviously, Ryouma needed more than just a good fight.

A reason... the General's voice murmured in his head.

Ryouma walked on, frowning.

End

Breaking of the Day

Tsuna gets taken off to Italy to get better acquainted with the Vongola. While he's there, he has to come to some kind of terms with Xanxus. Kind of, sort of, mental Tsuna/Xanxus. Drama, I-4, some spoilers

"I can't believe you told Kaa-san this was overseas study," Tsuna grumbled as he was frog-marched to his doom.

Well, all right, not really frog-marched, his dad had his hands in his pockets and Reborn wasn't tall enough, but the effect was the same.

"It is overseas," his dad said, cheerily. "And it's definitely higher education."

Tsuna glared at the double-doors they were approaching. He had never agreed to this. Well, not really. Not exactly.

"Cheer up," his dad advised. "It's a job for life." While Tsuna was trying to find words for the magnitude of wrongness in that statement, his dad swept open the door with a perfectly ruthless smile and Tsuna was pinned in the doorway by the measuring stares of a lot of men in black suits.

"Tsuna." The Ninth smiled. "Welcome."

A rough snort cut through Tsuna's fumbling thank-you, and he looked around to see Xanxus lounging in one of the chairs glaring death at him. His words ended on a strangled sound. The room was silent as the two of them stared at each other.

Finally Tsuna swallowed and took a breath. If he didn't say something he would probably be here until he spontaneously combusted from the glare. "Xanxus-san," he managed. "It's, um, good to see you again?"

Xanxus' lip curled in a sneer but he finally turned the dark glower away, as if Tsuna was a bug he'd noticed only in passing, and Tsuna made it to the chair left empty without wobbling. Much.

It took him a while to register that a few of the stares around the table were now impressed, and he had to choke down hysterical laughter when he did.

What else was he supposed to say, after all? "Still going to kill everyone present to cover up murdering me, and by the way how's the food around here?"

"So." The Ninth's smile was a little too similar to Reborn's for Tsuna's comfort. "Shall we begin?"

"A war?!" Tsuna waved his arms to relieve his feelings, here in the safety of his own room. "Another? You brought me over here just in time for another?" He stopped, siezed by a horrible thought, and buried his fingers in his hair. "Or is it the same?"

"It isn't the same," Reborn stated, far too calmly, as usual. "We're pretty sure."

"Pretty sure?" Tsuna's voice cracked.

Reborn shrugged. "We're still tracing their headquarters."

"While they know exactly where we are. Great," Tsuna grumbled.

"That's why the Varia were called here." Reborn sounded perfectly reasonable and Tsuna shuddered.

"Is he going to try to kill me again?" he asked with a certain morbid curiosity.

"Sooner or later, probably."

Tsuna threw himself onto his bed and pulled a pillow over his head. He didn't know whether he was really glad or really regretting that he'd convinced Gokudera to stay in Japan while he spent six months "overseas study" in Italy.

Reborn hauled him out from under the pillow and dumped him on the floor. "Hurry up. You have another meeting to observe in five minutes."

The only reason Tsuna managed to keep shoot me now behind his teeth was because he knew Reborn would.

Tsuna cautiously eased out onto the terrace. Bullets had stopped zinging and the man in charge of interior security assured him the assault was over, but he'd heard a few of the stories about how many tunnels and hiding places this place had.

Besides, Xanxus was out here.

"You got them all?" he was asking Viper and Belphegor.

"All three," Viper confirmed while Belphegor cocked his head at Tsuna and smiled disturbingly. "If that really is all of their squad leaders this should put the crimp in their strategy we need..."

Tsuna stopped paying attention, because something in the trees caught his eye. It was something like a gleam, only dark instead of light, and his gaze followed it, puzzled at it, until it resolved into something that might be a very long gun.

Adrenaline kicked his heart hard and his teeth locked. He felt like he could see rings of air sliding down a long, straight path and he followed them with wide fixed eyes until they ended at...

Xanxus' back.

No one else was looking, he could never push Xanxus hard enough to move him away, but he was already moving. He reached out but he'd seen the things Reborn could shoot, his hand wouldn't even slow a bullet down. He needed something more. He was not going to let anyone be shot in front of him!

Need. Want. Will.

Flame.

The impact drove him back against Xanxus and the next few moments were a confusion of shouting and falling and someone's boot in his ribs and the bullet safe in his hand. When it was done, Belphegor was gone from the terrace, the noise had moved over to the tree line, and Xanxus was staring down at him.

"What kind of a goddamn moron are you?"

Tsuna straightened up, coughing a little, and opened his hand to show the bullet resting in his glove.

"I know that! I'm going to kill you and you're trying to protect me?" Xanxus spat on the flagstones. "The old bastard is senile, trying to make some limp little shit like you a boss!"

He stalked inside and Tsuna sighed. He knew it probably was a pretty stupid thing to do, but he couldn't just watch even someone who wanted him dead shot. He couldn't.

"A boss risks his life to protect the Family," Reborn said, appearing in the door. He looked Tsuna up and down and smiled faintly. "Not too bad."

Tsuna smiled back, shakily.

"We'll work on new training, so you can call the Flame faster."

Tsuna slumped back against the wall, groaning. One of these days, he was going to learn.

Tsuna squirmed in his chair. He'd never been fond of watching meetings to start with, especially when they were in a language that, despite Reborn's Dying Will Language Lessons, he only mostly understood, and lately they'd gotten a lot worse. The Vongola leaders were tense, people were dying, and Xanxus was watching him like a hawk and sneering every time Tsuna so much as twitched. It was as much as he could do not to stammer every time someone spoke to him.

"What has he got against me?" he wailed as Reborn and his dad saw him back to his room and checked it over. "Just that I'm alive?"

Reborn paused to whack him over the head. "Quit whining. And yes."

There were times Tsuna wished Dino-san had taught him how to swear, the way he'd joked about when he learned Tsuna was visiting Italy.

"Well, and his strength is the reason he had so much support for becoming boss," his dad added, looking carefully out the curtains. "The more people see of your strength, first hand, the less support he'll have to keep holding off from serving you."

Tsuna stopped dead in the middle of the room and stared in abject horror.

"I told you a long time ago, didn't I?" Reborn hopped up onto a chair and pulled open his gun case. "In a challenge for leadership, our tradition is that the loser serves under the winner."

Tsuna squeaked.

His dad waved a soothing hand. "Xanxus is the leader of the Varia and they're directly under the Ninth. As long as the Ninth is alive, no one will bring any real pressure for him to swear to you." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Of course, he does owe you for his life, now, which probably isn't helping."

"Life... huh? But..." Tsuna laughed uneasily. "People save each other all the time in the mafia, right?" Surely they must or no one would still be alive.

"Of course." Reborn polished a very large barrel. "And by doing so they incur a debt. It's a special relationship. Between enemies, it's a debt of honor that must be discharged. Within the Family it's an extra bond of loyalty."

Tsuna took one second to consider the idea of Xanxus finding himself with a "special relationship" to Tsuna and started hyperventilating.

He'd never make it home alive.

Tsuna watched the fighting flow slowly over the slopes below and listened to the babble of voices in his earpiece and waited in the Flame's stillness to see another opening to push the intruders back.

"They're staying together, this is our best chance..."

"...shield, though, even Xanxus' guns can't get all the way through it."

"We need to get rid of it, then."

Tsuna watched the wavering opacity around the invaders flowing and reforming, and felt the weight of it in his mind and senses, and nodded. In the present stillness of his mind, he knew there would only be more deaths if he held his hand now. "I can do it," he said, the first he'd spoken during this battle.

There was silence on the earpiece for a moment until the Ninth said, "Reborn?"

"He's my student, of course he can." A double crack of gunfire rang out off to the left and through the earpiece, and another of the invaders went down. "It's line of sight, though, and he'll need cover to prepare it. Twenty seconds."

Babble broke out again.

"...take the whole thing out he'll be up pretty high."

"Wide field of fire..."

"...Varia can do it?"

Unthought calculation tumbled through the back of Tsuna's mind. The Varia probably could protect him, if they chose to really do it. If they didn't, could he protect himself? Their "failure" would have to be subtle, before so many witnesses, so, probably, yes.

Xanxus snarled an acknowledgment over the line and Tsuna nodded to himself. "Fifteen minutes for the squad on the east to be in position," he stated, the movement he had watched coming together into prediction. "I'll be one hundred feet up from the first terrace."

There was another hitch of quiet and then a rattle of movement orders to the eastern defenders. Tsuna made his way up the terraces and found Squalo there ahead of him, bellowing for the other Varia to hurry up or he wouldn't leave anything for them.

Tsuna would have prefered his own Guardians around him, for this, but it had been his own choice for them to stay behind. He would just have to keep his eyes open. He nodded to the Varia.

"Now."

A hundred feet up the stone wall, Tsuna had the angle he needed to strike the invaders' shield and he was completely exposed. Knives, illusion, lighting flickered around him as he drew on the Flame and started to focus it. His eyes didn't leave his target, and so he saw it coming for him, larger than any bullet he'd seen before and rippling the same way the shield was. It tracked him perfectly and the world slowed and sharpened as he decided it would probably follow him even if he moved; he hadn't built enough power yet to deflect it; his senses reached out, searching for the best answer.

And then Xanxus was in front of him, firing into the oncoming danger, firing and not moving. Surprise flickered in Tsuna's thoughts, but the calm of the Dying Will drew memory together into understanding, and Tsuna knew what Xanxus was doing.

Discharging his obligation. Declaring his enmity.

So be it. Tsuna concentrated again on raising his Flame, even as the bullet and whatever it carried struck Xanxus and he fell. As Xanxus fell, Tsuna raised his hand and released the Flame.

He breathed once, twice, watching as it struck the shield and spread, breathed deeper and focused the Flame more tightly, ignoring the rise of voices in his earpiece. He felt the break before he saw it, the sudden give under the force of his attack. The shield didn't crack, but it gave. And then it disintegrated.

Everything paused for one moment, and then a roar swept over the field, triumph and terror mixed together.

Tsuna was more than happy to leave firing on people caught in the open with no cover to others, and instead he descended the wall to where Squalo had dragged Xanxus around a corner into a bit of shelter from stray bullets. The other Varia had already scattered, having, Tsuna knew well enough, none of his reluctance.

Xanxus bared his teeth, looking up at Tsuna from where he leaned against the wall with a certain satisfaction laid over the constant fury in his eyes. It didn't waver as Squalo yanked bandages tight around his shoulder.

"There, damn idiot," Squalo declared and turned to bound toward the battle.

Xanxus ignored him, snarling that backhanded triumph at Tsuna, and Tsuna came closer and knelt beside him. He hadn't seen Xanxus in a long time, and maybe Reborn was right about his intuition growing, because this time he understood something he hadn't before. He lifted a burning hand and laid it against the center of Xanxus' chest.

"There shouldn't be ice here."

Now Xanxus was staring at him, blank and furious instead of pleased and furious, not even bothering to brush him away. "The hell?"

It wasn't something seen. It wasn't something felt. But Tsuna knew what was under his hand. "Your Will has frozen your heart." He frowned and flattened his palm. "It shouldn't be like that."

It would be such a small thing to do, really. He reached with his own Will, and Xanxus jerked back against the wall behind him, eyes widening. "No..."

Tsuna looked up at him. "I know." He knew the first crack in that ice, and the fractured edges of it. He knew how they would cut when they came free. Love and betrayal both slid off the ice, right now, and Tsuna knew that they shouldn't.

The fury and terror in Xanxus' eyes only knew the agony waiting in those edges, though, and that he had been checkmated before he knew it. Tsuna's hand had already closed around the rage the fueled his Will.

"No!" Xanxus' voice was harsh and tight and almost inaudible, his whole body rigid under Tsuna's hand, fingers closed helplessly hard on the chips of broken stone under them.

Tsuna listened to the sounds coming from below them, to the death following his actions, and finally sighed and reluctantly drew his hand back, releasing the unseen ice from his Will. He stood, head bowed, looking down at Xanxus staring up at him. He almost certainly was risking his life, to refrain, and he didn't know if he was truly doing any good for Xanxus either. But Xanxus had chosen that ice and Tsuna couldn't undo it by force.

He turned away into the building and left Xanxus staring after him, breathing hard.

Tsuna sat in his chair and tried not to fidget, because sometimes now it made someone jump when he did. He didn't really think that was much of an improvement over the past few months, but Reborn smiled a lot.

The Ninth leaned back in his chair, smiling. "Well, that's one conflict cleared up in Vongola favor. So let's move on to other business. Does anyone still have any objections to my successor?"

Tsuna froze, wide-eyed, as the entire table looked at him. Murmurs and headshakes and a few smiles ran around the gathering, and Tsuna wasn't sure whether to be relieved or even more alarmed that they were accepting him.

He hadn't even accepted him, yet!

Well... not exactly.

And then everyone stilled, eyes turning to Xanxus, who was glaring wild and hard at Tsuna once again and hadn't said a thing.

Tsuna bit his lip and looked back. He remembered tremors raking Xanxus' chest under his palm. Would it help if he apologized?

And just as Tsuna was opening his mouth, hand raised toward Xanxus, groping for words, Xanxus flinched back and lowered his eyes.

The whole room breathed again.

"Good," the Ninth said quietly. "Then I think we're done here."

End

Sakura Growing Upside Down

Hibari seeks out a rematch with Mukuro. Mukuro has his own agenda for this. Drama, I-3

Two days after the battles for the Vongola rings were over, Kyouya cornered Sawada and asked who that Chrome girl was, and why she carried what looked remarkably like Mukuro's staff.

And then he went hunting Dino Cavallone.

"Look, Kyouya, I couldn't..." Cavallone ducked the swing of a tonfa quickly. "I couldn't let you know right then! You'd have gone right after her." He jumped back from a vicious swipe. "Him. Them. Whatever. You know you would have."

Kyouya set his feet again and glared. "Of course I would have."

"Well, then you wouldn't have had the fun of fighting with that mechanical suit, right?" Cavallone offered, a bit weakly.

Kyouya growled and spun his tonfa forward.

They were both dripping blood on the floor before Kyouya's fury ran out. He stood and glowered at Cavallone, panting. Cavallone wiped his mouth on his cuff and sighed.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Kyouya's lip curled.

Cavallone frowned and coiled his whip with a sharp snap of his wrist. "I'm serious. Mukuro's illusions aren't like that damn drug. You can't shake it off with pure stubbornness." His eyes were hard. "Or you would have done it the first time, wouldn't you?"

"I wasn't prepared the first time." Kyouya didn't like admitting that, but it must have been true for him to be fooled the way he had been.

Cavallone's mouth tightened. "Listen to me for once," he said, quietly. "You can't shake off an illusion just by knowing it's illusion." He stepped closer, holding Kyouya's eyes. "Do you know your own strength well enough, yet?"

Kyouya frowned in turn. He'd always known his own strength. He looked back, silently.

Cavallone's shoulders slumped a bit and he ran a hand through his hair. "I know I can't stop you," he sighed. "Just remember, all right?"

After a moment, Kyouya nodded. Cavallone had earned that much from him. "I'll remember."

He found them easily enough, back at the Kokuyou grounds, the two lesser carnivores and the girl. He raked her over with a glance, disinterested by how frail looking she was. "I want Mukuro," he told her bluntly.

She frowned and her soft "Why?" cut through the loud one's "What the hell?!"

Kyouya would have thought why was obvious. "I have something to return to him."

The yappy one stalked toward him. "You think you can beat Mukuro-san? Hah! He'd just break you into little pieces again!"

Hibari ignored him; the girl had closed her eyes and her lips were moving faintly.

"Hey!"

Kyouya spun a tonfa absently, ready to smack the interruption quiet, but the girl spoke first.

"Ken." Her voice was lower, cool and amused. "I've been expecting him."

The loud one grumbled and snarled and sat back down in a huff, but the quiet one just nodded. "As you wish, Mukuro-sama."

Mukuro smiled at him with the girl's mouth and turned, beckoning. "Come along, then."

Kyouya stalked through the crumbling doorway after him; more room would be welcome enough, but... "I'm not here to fight the girl."

Mukuro looked over the girl's shoulder and gave him a slow, annoying smile. "Well, if you insist." They passed through the blurred shadow under a destroyed staircase and when they emerged into what might have been an auditorium it wasn't the girl ahead of him. It was Mukuro.

Much better.

Kyouya lunged in close, striking for Mukuro's ribs.

It went through them.

Kyouya spun on his toe and blocked the staff swinging down at his shoulder. Just because he'd expected that didn't make him any happier.

Mukuro laughed and gave back, light on his feet. "You're much more wary this time." He tilted his head, hair falling over his forehead. "So, are you really immune to these now?"

There was no gesture, no showmanship—just pale petals fluttering down past Kyouya's shoulder. He stalked forward steadily, not bothering to dignify Mukuro's prodding with an answer. Mukuro blocked the first strike but the second caught his shoulder and drove a gasp out of him.

"I see you have."

"Fight seriously."

Mukuro smirked. "Why?"

Kyouya stopped calculating with the front of his mind, stopped thinking at all, left observations to the back of his brain and just moved, letting rage flow through his hands, drive his feet against the rough floor. The back of his mind noticed the number four forming in Mukuro's eye, poised him to lean into the strength of Mukuro's guard and return, readied him for Mukuro's speed, but his attention was on the feel of his tonfa grips in his hands, the reverberation through steel and bone that would tell him when a strike went home.

He thought the occasional softness was just Mukuro's ability to roll with the strikes until he felt it one last time and Mukuro was abruptly no longer in front of him.

"The day you throw off illusions I'll be in real trouble," Mukuro murmured from behind him.

Swinging around , taut and furious, Kyouya caught a flash of teeth, and then Mukuro's weapon fell away and he collapsed to the floor. By the time Kyouya turned all the way around, it was the girl who lay there. He stood for a long moment, wrestling with the unusual urge to throw something against the wall.

The girl stirred and pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes. "Ah. Are you done?" She looked up, merely inquiring. Kyouya observed distantly that, although he was fairly sure Mukuro's broken arm had not been one of the illusions, her arm was fine.

"For now," he ungritted his teeth enough to say.

She cocked her head at him. "I see. Well, if it's important to Mukuro-sama..." She stood, brushing off her skirt, and picked up the staff. "I suppose we'll see you again, then."

Kyouya watched her walk back toward the room where the other two were and breathed around the pain in his knee and side until his temper had settled, sharp instead of ragged. And then he went to go find someone to fight so he could think about what he'd found out.

"What again?" Ken looked up as Kyouya stalked through the atrium. "Don't you ever get enough? You never win!"

"Boasting for someone else since you can't do it for yourself?" Kyouya asked, not breaking stride.

"Fuck you! Come back here and we'll see who's boasting! You... Kake-pii? What are you looking like that for?"

As their voices turned fainter behind him, Kyouya heard the dark one say, "He never wins. But he never loses either, does he?"

Kyouya's eyes narrowed and he stepped still more precisely over chunks of broken concrete. He was going to pin Mukuro down and finish this fight if it killed one of them.

Chrome looked up as he stepped through the break in the wall. "Mukuro-sama said you would be here today." She set down her can of coffee and stood, closing her eyes. Haze drew around her and, when it cleared, Mukuro was smiling at him, ineffably amused.

Kyouya knocked a few of his teeth out purely for his own satisfaction before he had to start being careful where he put his feet, lest he tread on a scorpion.

Kyouya stared at the pillars of fire separating him from Mukuro, who was leaning insolently on his staff.

"So?"

Kyouya closed his eyes. It didn't help. He could feel the heat on his face, the dryness of scorched air in his nose and lungs. Every sense told him that if he stepped forward he would be burned.

His mouth tightened and he stepped forward into one of the pillars.

It burned, his skin tightened, his lungs felt knifed through, but there was a softness to the sensation that he recognized, now, and he took another step, mind locked around that difference.

The fires vanished, leaving echoing pain and Mukuro's laughter.

"I think you're the best toy I've ever had."

Kyouya lay on the roof of the school and stared up into the blue nothing of the sky. The deep slice along his arm twinged under its bandage.

Cavallone had had quite a few words to say, this week, once he'd tracked Kyouya down, medical minion in his wake. The ones that actually stuck in Kyouya's mind were, "You can't just insist reality is something different. He's better at changing reality than you are, and what kind of idiot fights on his opponent's ground?"

Was he trying to change reality?

He didn't like the thought. It seemed weak-willed. Reality was what it was, and a strong person didn't try to change that; he just acted.

Of course, knowing what reality was, around Mukuro, presented its own problems. He frowned up at the blue. His body could tell the difference, but he needed more than that to actually beat Mukuro. If he had to touch to know...

Do you know your own strength well enough yet?

Cavallone's words came back to him and he frowned more deeply. If Cavallone thought Kyouya had strengths he wasn't using yet, what could they be? If it wasn't what he was currently doing...

Not trying to change reality?

Kyouya's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he watched wisps of white crossing the blue.

Mukuro knelt over Kyouya, staff tight against his throat, chuckling. "Haven't you realized yet?"

Kyouya glared, saving his breath. Mukuro looked down at him with great good humor.

"This body is an illusion, isn't it? Every time you insist on fighting me like this, instead of in my little Chrome's body, you hand your senses over to me before we even begin." He smiled charmingly. "Should I fight you using her next time?"

Kyouya twisted one forearm under the staff and brought a knee up into Mukuro's spine, throwing him over Kyouya's head. He spun up onto his feet and around to face Mukuro again.

"No." His voice was rough from where the staff had raked up his throat, but his mind was abruptly clear.

Reality.

"You are here." He gestured at Mukuro's body. "That is what's real." The mist and flowers through which he and Mukuro had tracked each other today faded from his sight. "That's all that matters to me."

He didn't need to see or feel. All he needed was to know. To be and to know.

Mukuro didn't laugh as Kyouya drove in on him, strike following strike, but his avid, smiling gaze never faltered. Even when Kyouya pinned him against the wall, breaking ribs in the process, he didn't blink. "We'll have to do this again," he gasped.

Kyouya struck full across Mukuro's temple and let his unconscious body fall. It was Chrome before she hit the ground. He stood, panting, letting things settle in his mind.

"Oh." Chrome pushed herself upright, eyes wide. "You... won today?"

Kyouya looked down at her. "How do you know?"

"Mukuro-sama isn't quite there." She stood up, dusting herself off.

"Here." Kyouya picked up his jacket and pulled the can of coffee he'd brought out of his pocket, tossing it to her. "We spilled yours, last time."

"Ah." She smiled faintly. "Thank you."

Kyouya shrugged. She was obliging him, after all.

"Will you be back again?" She took a sip, both hands wrapped around the can.

Kyouya considered. There was a certain satisfaction in the idea. It would be nice to drive his victory home a few more times. It would probably be useful, if he agreed to be involved in any more Vongola doings. "Yes."

Chrome nodded. "We'll see you then." The Mist ring winked on her finger as she took another sip.

He gave her a parting nod in return.

Kyouya thought there was something odd about the fight today. He watched and weighed the texture of it as they moved, twisting aside from the butt of Mukuro's staff, striking down to break Mukuro's knee. He followed Mukuro down and brought the shaft of one tonfa hammering down toward Mukuro's solar plexus.

Mukuro's gaze didn't even flicker.

Kyouya diverted into the floor, adding another small crater, eyes fixed on Mukuro. "You aren't expecting to win," he stated.

Mukuro shrugged with one shoulder; today the other was dislocated, a match for Kyouya's elbow. "Not really, any more." His eyes gleamed. "Not often, anyway."

"Then why are you fighting?"

Mukuro's teeth flashed in the hall's dim light for a moment. "Because it's fun." His leg swept around. Kyouya rolled with it, ignoring the fiery wrench in his arm. His own teeth were bared as they closed again.

It was annoying that Mukuro didn't stay bitten, but he supposed that the biting itself was fun, yes.

He would be back again next week.

Afterword

Chrome curled up in the bed she had created, soft old couch cushions filling a window-seat, piled with linens from the box that had appeared in the atrium one morning, weeks ago. She watched the moonlight sliding over the buildings and trees, past the glass, turning them stark and new. Mukuro-sama?

Yes?

You helped him figure out how to win, didn't you?

Laughter tickled through her mind. Perhaps.

Chrome closed her eyes "looking" at the presence in the back of her head. Why?

With her eyes closed, she could see Mukuro-sama's smile. He's fun to play with. And this way he'll last longer. The smile curled higher at the corners. And that will make me stronger.

Chrome nibbled on her lip. She wasn't really aware of what happened when Mukuro-sama brought himself out through her, but she'd heard the tone of his laughter afterwards, and watched the rage of her fellow Guardian hone into something cooler and sharper than it had been.

A chuckle echoed behind her ears. Ask.

Softly, barely forming the thought into words, she said, You want him to be stronger, too.

Her mind was silent for a moment. We will see, Mukuro-sama finally answered, light and intent. We will see whether this thing Sawada Tsunayoshi is making will survive. Or whether it will be destruction after all.

Chrome remembered him telling her to fight her best as the boss' Mist Guardian. And she remembered Chikusa and Ken discussing who they would kill first, when they destroyed the Mafia completely. It made sense enough to her that Mukuro-sama would do both things at once; he could be more than one thing at once, after all. She nodded to herself and cuddled down into her pillows.

Good night, Mukuro-sama.

Good night, my Chrome.

End

War of Aggression

Squalo meets Xanxus and Xanxus meets the Varia, and everything follows from that. Beginning overlaps the end of "Blood Will Tell". Drama, I-4, Squalo->Xanxus UST

The sword was everything to Squalo—the purity of a single goal and the cleanness of perfection. In a world that hid so much, despite the stark edges of every word and action, the sword was one thing that made perfect sense. It made him a little crazy that no one else seemed to understand that.

Really crazy.

He'd started his training journey hoping to find other people who understood, looking for them eagerly around every new corner, and a few even seemed to. But only a few, the ones it took a few days to defeat.

He had started out killing only when the fight went that way, when the swords called for it: the man in northern China, with the hawk that watched them fight and flew when he fell, the old man in France who'd torn a line through Squalo's ribs and smiled with his last breath, blood trickling past his bared teeth. After a while, though, Squalo started asking the swords for it, asking to obliterate disappointment after disappointment. It was only a small ease, but it was something.

Even that wore thin after a while, and he killed indifferently. Perfection was the only thing left to chase; someone else to understand it was obviously too much to ask the world for.

When he returned, Tyr shook his head and told him he'd live happier if he served the Vongola instead of the sword. Squalo wanted to scream his denial of that, but he didn't use his voice to do it; it was better to let his sword answer, scream after scream of steel on steel through the hours, through the slant and set of sunlight, as his breath came light and burning in his lungs. He didn't bother telling Tyr's body that he would serve the sword; Tyr's body already knew.

Walking among the Vongola was like walking among any other people—like walking through paper dolls, clumsy and thin, only a few of them with any fire in them and that infuriatingly hidden. He went where he was asked, showed around to the few who knew what he would be, and it meant nothing.

Until him.

Squalo didn't even know who he was, at first, only that in a garden full of thin, airy people, he was dark and dense and hot, hot enough to melt even sword steel. When Squalo asked his name, burning eyes slid through him and he barely heard the answer.

"Xanxus."

Squalo had never known a human could be a sword, be that single of mind, that perfectly focused—that crazy. It only took a few days to realize the last part, but by then he didn't care.

Before

"The Varia." Xanxus frowned a little. "Who are they?"

Squalo cocked his head; did the Boss hold that back even from his sons? Well, he hadn't been told not to tell the heirs, so it didn't matter really. "We're the Vongola's assassins. We're the best."

The fire at the back of Xanxus' eyes flared for a moment. "The best, huh?" His thin mouth curled. "That's a start." He focused on Squalo and Squalo almost swayed back with the weight of it. "Show me."

"Our headquarters are in a different house."

Xanxus shrugged. "So?"

After a moment, Squalo laughed. Of course it wouldn't make any difference; nothing would make any difference to this man or mark the purity of his purpose. He swept out his right hand and bowed with a flourish, half mocking and dead serious. "Right this way."

They walked past the mansion's guards without a word, and Squalo saw the way Xanxus' eyes marked where each one stood, aware of every target around him. They took the best car from the garages; Xanxus pulled the keys out of the cabinet and tossed them at Squalo, who shrugged. It was appropriate, wasn't it?

He did want to see, some time, how Xanxus would drive, whether he'd do it as fast and hard as he walked and spoke and looked, but that could wait.

They were waved through into the sprawling old building the Varia kept, as soon as the guards there recognized Squalo, and no one commented about the man he was showing around the white plastered training rooms. People did gather, though.

"Weak," Xanxus muttered, eyes passing over the lower ranks working out, adding cuts and craters to the walls, to be patched over like all the others. Squalo snorted and nodded toward the far corner where Viper was playing mind games with one of the stronger of the new recruits. Xanxus watched, not blinking as walls appeared and vanished, as Levi punched through them trying to reach his opponent. "Hmph." Finally he pushed away from the wall. "All right, then. I'll take the Varia."

A startled sound ran through the watchers and one of the squad leaders shouldered forward. "Only the Varia decide who we'll recruit and accept. Who says you're good enough for us?"

"I say he is." Squalo's flat voice cut through the mutter of agreement and stilled it.

Xanxus paused in his step forward to turn and glare at him. "And who are you?"

"The leader of the Varia." Squalo lifted his chin, matching Xanxus' hot stare. A corner of Xanxus mouth curled up, neither a smile nor a snarl.

"Not any more."

"Not any more," Squalo agreed, voice a little husky despite himself, because standing under Xanxus' eyes was like standing in a fire.

"Fucking right, not any more, if you give it up that easy," Fazio called, moving up to stand across from them. His squad second, the one who'd protested the most when Squalo, instead of Fazio, took over after Tyr, stood at his shoulder and suddenly there was a block coming together. Squalo curled his lip and reached for his sword; his new left hand wasn't ready yet, but he could take these right handed and end this now.

Light flickered at the corner of his eye and he glanced over, breath catching as what had to be the Vongola Flame gathered in Xanxus' bare hand. Squalo looked up at him, at his suddenly fixed smile and the rage in his eyes, and bent his head, stepping back.

He watched, leaning against the uneven wall, while Xanxus' fists pounded the third squad leader until he couldn't have three unbroken bones left, while Xanxus shot Fazio's second five times and barely looked at him, while Xanxus closed his burning hand on Fazio's face and blasted his head off. In the silence afterwards, broken only by Xanxus' hard breaths hissing past his teeth, Squalo looked around and nodded.

"Looks like that's that, then." He waited until Xanxus looked at him and a little of the killing glaze left his eyes, and added, "Boss."

Xanxus flexed his hand, breath steadying, shoulders relaxing a little. "Damn right."

Xanxus took over rooms on the west side with a balcony hidden behind trees; Squalo was glad, because Xanxus wanted to see him at odd times and he didn't much care for the insipid atmosphere of the main headquarters.

"So what is it you want, anyway?" he asked one afternoon, leaning against the balcony's rough stone rail, watching Xanxus slouch in one of the two chairs. He asked half just to see the fire in Xanxus' eyes flare, but half because he was really starting to wonder.

"The Vongola," Xanxus growled.

"So you're passing the time here until the Ninth kicks off?" Squalo's mouth twisted, but he couldn't manage too much bitterness. The time he had to be near this fire was more than he might have expected to get from one of the heirs.

"I'm not going to wait for that."

Squalo started upright, wavering on the rail before he caught himself, eyes wide as he stared at the thin, crooked smile Xanxus was wearing. "You... what?"

Xanxus looked up and Squalo got lost again in the raw ferocity of his gaze. "They won't let me inherit."

"I thought you were favored for it, now that Federico is dead," Squalo said slowly. He swore he'd heard at least half the under-bosses of the Family talking about how they'd want Xanxus to be the Tenth.

"Not by the old bastard. Not by any of the old men." Xanxus didn't move from his slouch in the dappled shade, but violence in waiting sang from the line of his shoulders, the tension of his hands. It made Squalo a little breathless.

"So you're going to take it anyway?" he asked, low, eyes fixed on Xanxus. "Take it now?"

Xanxus smiled up at him, teeth bared, and the weight of his intent nearly buckled Squalo's knees. "Yeah."

Squalo's brain finally kicked into gear. "That's why you want us?"

"Mm." Xanxus' intensity banked again and he picked up his glass and drained it. "Some of you anyway."

Xanxus' particular attention to a few dozen of the Varia snapped into a pattern and Squalo laughed. This was a goal that matched that burning focus. "If that's what you want. Boss." They both heard the difference in the way he said it, this time, and a moment of satisfaction hooded Xanxus' eyes.

Only the strongest should lead, that was an article of faith among the Varia. As far as Squalo was concerned, Xanxus was the Tenth.

"It's the best moment for us to go. Reborn is assigned out to the Cavallone and the outside advisor is back in Japan. The Storm will still be around, but the Cloud is out putting the fear of her into the Valetti, we can deal with her later. The Thunder is up in Venezia this month, too."

"That means we still have four of them to hit." Otello frowned, flipping a knife absently. "Will they be on the Ninth or the entrances?"

"Everyone agrees the Mist will stay on the Ninth and the Storm will go for the front line." Squalo folded his arms, leaning a hip on the scarred wood table that filled the middle of the room. "The Rain and the Sun could do either."

"Levi for the front whenever the alarm goes up, then," Carlo murmured, and the entire room chuckled. Carlo approved of his new squad member, but Levi's enthusiasm had given even him some headaches.

"We'll come through here," Squalo rapped a knuckle over the main entrance. "Vinci, your squad will come in from the north. Get past as many of the small fry as you can without involving them, they don't need to know until it's over."

Vinci flicked a glance at Xanxus, sprawled in his chair and not looking like he was paying any attention at all. Squalo rolled his eyes.

He was treating this as just another assassination, and that meant blueprints and timing and people knowing who was going to be where. Xanxus, as far as he could tell, would prefer to ditch all that and burn through the front door and every wall in his way on a straight line between him and the Ninth. It wasn't that Squalo actually minded that, and he'd assigned himself to go in with Xanxus so he could watch it happen. Some of the others, even after six months to get used to it, weren't taking their new boss' brooding as calmly.

Or maybe it was just that Vinci was the one who'd been promoted to replace Fazio.

"North side. Right." Vinci said, finally, and Squalo snorted.

"Get with it, or I'll kill you my own damn self! There's no room for screw ups in this one."

That lit up everyone in the room, spines straightening, eyes brightening. This would, without question, be the ultimate test of their strength. A corner of Squalo's mouth drew up. They were going to put the best, the realest Vongola in charge. The Vongola who understood strength.

The Vongola who was purest.

Sirens were going, surprise was blown, so was some of the middle of the mansion, the air was hard to breath for the hanging gunpowder, and Squalo was laughing.

This was it, this was how it should be, the unstoppable rush along that one single line toward victory. He ran at Xanxus' back, spinning aside to cut down the men who tried to flank them, and pure exhilaration filled him, shivering down his spine every time Xanxus fired.

They had figured they would have to go through at least one of the Guardians before they even found the Ninth and the Sun was the one they ran into. Somehow Squalo wasn't surprised.

"Xanxus!" Rizzo shouted, and Squalo saw the distant focus in Xanxus' gaze come closer for a moment, lips pulling up off his teeth.

"Fedele! My son, you little piece of shit!"

Xanxus actually laughed at that, and Squalo fell back out of his way.

Rizzo and Xanxus left their guns aside and met with their fists, brutal and fast in the middle of the open hall. They ignored anything happening around them and almost nothing was; Squalo cut down the three defenders who had followed him and Xanxus this far through the twisting maze of hallways. Rizzo was the only one who had come from ahead. Squalo eyed the open door beyond him and smiled, teeth bared. That was one of the entrances to the vaults.

There weren't even words to Rizzo's shouting anymore, just raw rage as he drove fists and feet into Xanxus. Xanxus didn't bother to answer out loud, but the glimpses Squalo got of his snarl, of the frozen hate in his eyes, were harsher than any curses.

Finally, Xanxus kicked Rizzo back toward the open door, drew his gun, and smiled. Squalo's breath caught at the chill calculation in that look, and he dove for the floor as Xanxus fired, Flame blooming out from the path of it, cracking the walls. The shot smashed Rizzo back through the door and down the stairs, and Squalo dove after him on Xanxus' heels.

There were more gunmen down in the vaults.

Squalo rolled and came up behind a pillar, poised to dash in to sword range, eye mapping the field. Rizzo was down; a handful of the Varia were running in from the other side of the vaults; the Ninth was to the back; Xanxus was roaring and charging towards him; the old man's right hand was coming to meet him. The Storm and Sun were accounted for upstairs. That left...

Squalo threw himself aside as another sword cut the stone over his head. He looked up and bared his teeth at the Rain, the one who thought he was a swordsman. "Not bad. But not good enough!" He twisted his arm to draw his sword.

"You're quick to judge that," Martelli returned, cool, and attacked again.

He was sharp and fast, the cool part of Squalo's mind observed, and he had some fire. But not enough of it. Squalo drove in again and again, willing to pay with blood for the openings that would lead to victory, matching his still-light frame against the age of Martelli's joints. The gash across his shoulder matched the one in Martelli's thigh and they both had to dive apart to avoid the slashing shards of stone where Xanxus' blast hit one of the pillars.

Martelli's style was evasive, his sword light; he wouldn't meet any of Squalo's cuts straight on enough for the moves like Attacco di Squalo to work. Squalo pressed in on him, watching the line of his sword, working to cage it. Martelli turned the moment and and bound his sword for a breath. Squalo's grin pulled a bit wider; Martelli wasn't a true swordsman, but he was good enough to be interesting.

"Why have the Varia betrayed the Vongola?" Martelli asked, dark eyes locked with Squalo's, pushing at his focus.

"We've betrayed nothing," Squalo growled back. "You lot with your pathetic, half-hearted spirits, what do you know about what's true? How can you see it? We serve the Vongola through him." He shifted his balance and threw Martelli back, exultation leaping higher. There was the opening he wanted, as Martelli's heel came down short, and he lunged for it, everything focused in the moment, clean and sharp and burning.

For a moment the purity of triumph kept him from feeling the pain.

"What's true is the Family," Martelli said quietly in his ear, words cutting through the clamor and echo of the other fighting. "And what will best serve the Family is steel that's tempered. Ruthlessness with compassion. Mercy with determination." His lips peeled back. "If you insist that we also prove the tempered blade is the strongest... I'll trust Timoteo to do that."

Then Martelli fell and his sword ripped back out of Squalo's side and he couldn't completely stifle the sound he made. The cool, fluted stone of a pillar was at his back and he slid down it, staring across the floor at Martelli. He knew the truth of those words about tempering, but Xanxus...

"The best sword needs a will to wield it," he gasped. But it was too late; Martelli had passed out. Looking beyond him Squalo saw the Ninth's right hand down as well. So it must be the Ninth himself he heard on the other side of the pillar, fighting with Xanxus.

Flame blew another chunk out of the pillar to his left and his mouth curled in a bloody smile; maybe he'd stay where he was for now.

And then the blasts stopped.

Squalo's vision was going a bit gray at the edges, not that it was easy to tell in the darkness of the vaults. He pressed a hand tight to his side, biting down a harsh gasp, and listened. Had Xanxus won?

But no, Xanxus and the Ninth were both talking. Yelling. Squalo stared into the dark ahead of him, eyes stretched wide as he listened, and suddenly he understood the whole thing, understood why the purity of Xanxus' rage had that edge of smoldering desperation sometimes. The cold of the stone behind and under him seeped into his bones as he listened.

When he heard shock in Xanxus' voice and a sound he couldn't identity, he rolled to the left, ignoring the tearing pain in his side, and saw all the passion and perfect focus he had ever wanted to follow frozen. That was the picture that followed him down into redness and then into blackness. His last, unraveling thought was that it wasn't right. His death for failing this mission should have come at Xanxus' hands.

After

Squalo stared up at the ceiling of a hospital room, watching the movement of the dim square of light reflecting off the tile floor and wondering a bit absently whether he was going to live. Having woken up here wasn't an actual guarantee of life; they might just be saving him as a witness. The Ninth did seem to want justifications before he shot people.

When the Ninth's right hand arrived alone and locked the door behind him, Squalo wondered some more.

Staffieri looked down at him coldly, and Squalo stared back. Finally the man spoke. "Xanxus is exiled."

Squalo laughed, even though it still hurt like hell; he couldn't help it. "Ah. So he's on ice, huh?"

Staffieri's eyes narrowed. "You were conscious, then. And you didn't stand by him?"

Squalo bared his teeth at that; they understood nothing. "And get in his way? Fuck no. Besides, without that hell technique, whatever the fuck it was, he'd have won." He took some satisfaction in the way Staffieri's mouth tightened. He hoped the man was remembering who'd taken him down.

"Xanxus is no longer here," Staffieri continued, shifting stiffly on his feet. "And very few people know what happened that day, certainly none of Vongola's enemies. It is the Ninth's wish that this continue. If you will give your oath to obey only the Ninth's orders, you will be released to take charge of the Varia once more and set it in order."

Squalo turned his eyes up to the blank ceiling again, energy and emotion alike running out of him. "Yeah. Sure I will." What was the point of doing otherwise, with Xanxus frozen in a block of fucking ice, for God's sake? "The Varia belong to the Vongola."

And if it wasn't the Vongola he'd wanted, well, what the hell else was he going to do?

Staffieri nodded silently and turned on his heel.

"Hey!" Squalo called, suddenly, and the man looked back over his shoulder. "Is Xanxus still alive, in there?"

Staffieri's mouth tightened. "Yes."

And he didn't like it, obviously. Tough. Squalo took a breath. "Is he conscious?"

Staffieri studied him for a long moment before finally answering. "I don't believe so, no. He is... suspended, as it were."

Squalo closed his eyes. "Okay." As the door clicked open and shut he stared at the back of his eyelids and thought about that. It was about as merciful as being frozen could be; at least Xanxus wouldn't know he was locked away like that.

A tiny thought stirred in the back of his head, suggesting that, if Xanxus ever got out, he would pick up right where he left off. Squalo shoved the thought in a mental box. He didn't have much enthusiasm for serving the Ninth, but he didn't want to die, either. He'd make his oath and mean it.

For as long as the Ninth lasted.

Squalo looked down the roster of the Varia and rolled his eyes. It was time to talk to Bel again about keeping down the fatalities when he played with the supporting members. He swore the little shit did it just to annoy him, because Bel was otherwise one of the most practical of the squad leaders, right up there with Mammon and far more willing to fight. He leaned back, crossing his ankles on the immovably solid desk, and scribbled a note to himself right handed as he flipped the roster back onto the desk and reached for this month's intelligence summary.

"Boss!" The door flung open so hard the knob scarred the wood paneling and Squalo looked up with a glare.

"I told you not to call me that."

Carlo leaned against the door frame, panting, and gave him back glare for glare. "You do the work, don't fucking argue now, something happened!"

Squalo made another note, this one mental, to "train" with Carlo some time soon; just because he was the oldest surviving squad leader, and had been in on the Cradle five years ago, didn't mean Squalo was going to put up with any shit about this. He wasn't the Varia's boss; the Varia's boss was frozen, not dead.

"Goddamn it, Squalo, listen to me! Enrico just killed Massimo!"

Squalo grunted. "Old man's down to one, now, is he?"

His hand, reaching for the papers, halted in midair as his own words echoed back to him. Just one son left. Just one standing between the Boss' chair and the only candidate who was also qualified. Except that he wasn't, of course.

Except that no one but the Ninth and his Guardians, and Squalo himself, knew that. And the Ninth was obviously soft on Xanxus, even after Xanxus tried to kill him, or else why was Xanxus still alive?

He sat back, eyes fixed on Carlo, and spread his hands on the desk. "So. I guess that means Enrico is going to be the next." The next boss, he meant, of course.

The brief curl of Carlo's lips was fierce and pleased. "Yeah. If he's going to make it, he'd better stop picking up the girls from other Families, though. That little piece from the Vieri he's making time with this month would sell him out for a couple of pretty rocks." The sneer that went with the statement looked totally genuine so Squalo figured he didn't mean the kind of rocks that came in jewelry. That would make things easier; she'd be paid and dead in one shot, if he could get something pure enough through the Bolzoni.

"Well, if she's that easy to buy off, the Family can probably pay her to leave him alone." He shrugged carelessly. "If anyone can convince him." He leaned back again, crossing his arms behind his head, and grinned at Carlo, showing his teeth. "What do you think? Maybe Lussuria could persuade him; he's always giving everyone else relationship advice."

Carlo rolled his eyes. "If he can't, hell, maybe Mammon can try the practical approach."

Yes. That would work. Mammon's illusion could cover the team and Lussuria never had problems with cleaning up targets and obstacles alike. And once the last son was out of the way...

He and Carlo both smiled, slowly, eyes meeting across the desk of the Varia's boss.

"...never actually proven, was it?"

"Even if he did kill the favorite, it's not like the Ninth has room to be picky any more."

Squalo paused around a corner and smiled to himself. A few words dropped here and there, some squad leaders reminiscing over drinks about what an effective leader Xanxus had been, and it was amazing how the whole Family, anxious over the lack of an heir, was talking about the same man.

"Squalo!" Ricci called to him as he walked past them. "Just the man. Listen, about Xanxus..."

"Xanxus is exiled by the Ninth's order," Squalo said flatly. The flat tone wasn't hard when he thought about the form of that 'exile'.

"Yes, but if he weren't. I mean it's not like there's anyone else left, is there? So tell me; would he make a good Boss?"

Squalo looked aside. "I can't speak for that," he muttered. "He was a good leader to the Varia." He watched the two underbosses out of the corner of his eye and was careful to show no satisfaction at the thoughtful looks on their faces. A man who could lead the Varia, after all, would make easy work of the rest of the Family, wouldn't he?

"I heard you won't let anyone call you the Varia's boss," Gallo put in, leaning against the wall, eyes sharp.

Squalo lifted his head; this he didn't need to fake or be careful of. "Xanxus is exiled, not dead. He's our boss."

Ricci and Gallo exchanged a long look and Squalo turned away down the hall again, suppressing the urge to whistle cheerfully. Just a few more like that, and they'd be getting somewhere.

Three weeks later he was called in to talk to the Ninth.

"I understand you've been talking to people about Xanxus," the old man said, mild as milk which didn't fool Squalo for a second.

"People have been talking to me," Squalo corrected, folding his arms. "I'm not going to lie about him, if they ask." He let his mouth twist. "Not any more than we're all lying already."

The Ninth sat back with a sigh and his right hand gave Squalo a glare that said he'd be happy to shoot Squalo where he stood. Squalo ignored it; it wasn't Staffieri he had to convince.

"Well," the old man said, "be honest with me, also, then. If Xanxus is released, will he make another attempt?"

It made things easier, Squalo reflected, that the Ninth obviously wanted the answer to be no. "You defeated him," he said, a bit through his teeth but that was only to be expected. "The Varia live and die by our strength, and only the strongest have the right to lead." And this time, that strength wouldn't be betrayed by a trick, at the end. They'd plan better.

"Mmm." The Ninth folded his hands under his chin, staring at nothing.

"Boss," Staffieri said, quiet but agitated. "You can't really be thinking..."

"I do not agree with those who say Xanxus is the only choice," the Ninth said, to both of them Squalo thought. "But we are in need of strength to protect the Family, now." He nodded to Squalo. "Thank you. You can go."

Squalo closed the door behind him on Staffieri arguing with the Ninth in a low voice, and smiled. He thought he knew who would win, in the end.

In the end, it would be Xanxus.

When he heard the raised voice, Squalo brushed past the foot soldiers standing, or trying to, in front of the vault door and into that echoing, scarred room. The other squad leaders followed him. "Boss!"

Xanxus was shaking and pale, except for the raw-looking scars over most of his skin, but he was on his feet and had breath to shout. That was all Squalo needed.

Except that the shouting cut off sharply when Xanxus saw him, and Squalo paused, cautious of the tangled shock and rage in Xanxus' face. "Boss," he said again, offering it like a guide-rope to draw their leader back to himself, back to them.

Back to him.

"Squalo," Xanxus said, finally, voice harsh and rasping.

Squalo didn't step forward, didn't support Xanxus, didn't move as Xanxus staggered toward them. They were the Varia and he was their leader, and the Ninth's goddamn Guardians could frown all they liked. They'd never understood.

Xanxus raked his eyes over all of them, settling at last on Squalo again, and if the fire in them was wilder than it had been, well, none of them had much vested in sanity. Finally he nodded.

"Let's go."

Squalo smiled, tight and sharp, hearing the future in those two words. "Yes, Boss."

End

Gray Willow Catkins

Yamamoto decides Gokudera is broken and needs to be fixed. It takes a while to find the right opening. Drama with Romance, I-3

Takeshi lay on his bed, arms folded behind his head, and stared up at his ceiling, thinking.

Gokudera had argued with him earlier, and Takeshi had teased him a little by smiling agreeably the whole time. Finally Gokudera had run his hands through his hair, looking like he was two breaths away from trying to pull it out, and yelled "Don't you ever get mad, you idiot?!" before stomping off.

And now, for the first time in years, Takeshi was thinking about the things he'd said to Gokudera in the middle of their fight with Gamma years ago... or yet, depending on how you looked at it.

Gokudera's constant growling had always kind of amused him, and he admitted that every now and then he sort of poked Gokudera just to get him going. Like playing with a cat; a few scratches were fair trade for getting to watch it flail at you. Actually, Gokudera reminded him a lot of a cat, sometimes, a feral cat that would only let one person pet him without biting, and that person was Tsuna. Even when they'd just met it had made Takeshi wonder a little how often Gokudera must have gotten kicked, to be that way, and now he was wondering more seriously.

Often enough that Gokudera didn't understand not getting mad all the time?

Takeshi frowned at his ceiling. He didn't like that idea.

...often enough that Tsuna doing something, unthinkingly, to help Gokudera had knocked down every wall he had and set him following Tsuna with his heart in his hand?

Takeshi really didn't like that idea. It just wasn't right for anyone to have something like that done to them.

Well, if that was the case, then something would just have to be done to fix it. After all, Takeshi liked and respected Gokudera, trusted him with Tsuna's welfare and Takeshi's own back. It shouldn't be too hard to show him that. Takeshi nodded firmly at his ceiling, satisfied with this conclusion, and reached for his homework.

"You want to what?"

"Practice." Takeshi smiled at Gokudera and, when this only got him a dubious stare, amended. "Train. Together. For next time. You know there's going to be a next time, and it might need two of us at once."

Gokudera couldn't deny that, though he looked like he wanted to. "And who do you think we can train against?" he asked, arms crossed.

"I bet Reborn can find people."

Gokudera opened his mouth and closed it again. "Hm." He glowered down at his folded arms for a while before muttering. "Probably a good idea. I guess."

Takeshi didn't press for anything more enthusiastic. That kind of was enthusiastic, coming from Gokudera. And now he would have more opportunities to show Gokudera that Takeshi wouldn't kick him, and he really didn't have to bite preemptively. It was a great idea if he did say so himself.

Of course, Reborn wanted to test them himself, first.

"Hopeless," he pronounced, landing with a light tap of shoes beside them while Gokudera swore—at least Takeshi assumed he was swearing from the tone, he'd reverted to Italian—and Takeshi tried to figure out how to untangle them without slicing anything off. "You'd better start with targets instead of opponents. Leon."

Takeshi couldn't help laughing at the beady look Leon gave them before he transformed into a projector and a vaguely person-shaped red light flickered against the trees.

"Shut up, you idiot," Gokudera snarled, finally hauling himself out from under Takeshi. His eyes narrowed on their target and more explosives appeared between his fingers. "And this time just go and let me take care of not hitting you."

Takeshi grinned at that and agreed easily. "Sure thing ." He'd been right; practice would make good opportunities to prove his trust in Gokudera.

Gokudera paused and gave him a longer look. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered finally, and lit his bombs.

It took weeks before Reborn declared them ready for a live opponent.

"Fuck," Gokudera muttered, eyes just a little wide.

"I guess Reborn wanted us to practice for so long first so we didn't get killed," Takeshi speculated.

Hibari pushed away from his lounge against a tree and looked them up and down. "Hm." The corner of his mouth curled.

"Okay, look," Gokudera muttered, low, "either one, he goes after you for a good fight or two, he goes after me to get me out of the way. My weapons are mid-range, and in close I'm no match for him. So if one, can you hold him while I get a target and if two, can you distract him so I can open the range again?"

Yamamoto considered. "I can't hold him for long, but yeah. And I'm pretty sure I can be distracting."

Gokudera snorted. "Don't know why I bothered asking." He sighed and flicked out a handful of explosives as Hibari started tapping his foot with impatience. "Kind of hope it's two."

Takeshi looked at him, startled. "You do?" He had never thought of Gokudera as one of the ones who liked this kind of fight for its own sake.

Gokudera gave him a dour look. "If he's looking at you for a good fight, he'll pound me into fucking paste for interrupting. Crazy bastards, all of you," he added under his breath.

Takeshi considered Gokudera for a long moment. "You know, you're really good at this."

"Notice that afterwards!" Gokudera snapped as Hibari stopped waiting for them and they dodged back and apart.

Takeshi laughed. "Okay!" He would, too. And bit by bit he'd get through.

A month later he was starting to have some doubts about that.

Oh, they were getting to work pretty smoothly as a team, at least when there was an opponent in front of them. They were having some really fun matches on the way, too, though Gokudera gave him dark looks whenever he said anything about that. The problem was that, the more time he spent with Gokudera, and the better able to work together they got, the clearer it became that Gokudera was still holding himself apart. He might not be the best fighter among them, but when it came to his heart, he left absolutely no openings, sliding by every overture Takeshi made, slick as ice. It was starting to get frustrating.

Takeshi probably shouldn't have taken that out on Shamal, but when he emerged from Gokudera's smoke screen right behind the man and heard him muttering about his precious girls choking and whippersnappers too smart for their own good, it annoyed him.

"All clear," he called, as Shamal went down in a heap, clouted smartly with Takeshi's hilt. "Don't suppose you can get rid of the smoke?"

"What do you want me to do, blow it away?" Gokudera grumbled.

Takeshi shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

There was a moment of silence. "Why not? Why not throw a bomb in there when I can't actually see where you are? Gee, I can't imagine." Sarcasm dripped off Gokudera's voice.

Takeshi's mouth quirked. "I trust you."

The smoke was thinning enough on its own for him to see Gokudera, standing a dozen paces away, staring at him with a now-familiar expression of wary puzzlement. Takeshi sighed to himself and waited for the usual sort of comment about baseball-addled brains.

Instead Gokudera shook his head and asked, "Why?"

The question, the moment he'd been waiting so long for, sang down Takeshi's nerves and made the world sharp, and now Gokudera was looking at him even more warily. He took a breath for control. The words were sure as a sword stroke in his mind, though.

"Because you see the big issues and you think about them for all of us. Because you'll shoot without a second thought, if it's to protect us. I've watched you give everything you are to Tsuna, and you never hold back. You snarl all the time, but you can't pass by a stray or a kid. You act like a thug, but you read physics for fun. You have a temper hotter than those bombs, but you'd die for any of us; you've proved that."

Gokudera actually backed up a step, eyes wide with shock. Takeshi spread his hands.

"I trust you because you're you."

He could see Gokudera swallow before he managed to speak. "Yamamoto..."

Shamal groaned, between them, and rolled over, squinting up. "Remind me not to underestimate you brats any more," he husked and put an arm over his eyes.

When Takeshi looked up, Gokudera was collected again, face closed, and he sighed. It had been a step, at least, he was pretty sure, and he didn't want to mess that up by pushing Gokudera too far.

At their next practice, though, he decided he should have pushed, because Gokudera was completely distracted.

And Colonello was not someone even both of them together could be distracted, against.

"Gokudera!"

Gokudera hauled himself out of the splinters of a tree, wincing. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you have a piece of tree in your arm," Takeshi pointed out, just a bit exasperated. Then he had to bite down a yelp as Gokudera reached around and yanked it out.

"Enough for today," Colonello told them, shaking his head. "Get that fixed." He frowned at both of them, though it didn't have quite the usual coach-scowl impact, on a baby's face. "And get your minds on your training, kora!"

"I'm not going near Romario," Gokudera muttered, as Colonello's eagle flapped off with him.

Actually, Takeshi couldn't blame him for that. "Do you have an emergency kit at home?"

Which was how they came to be in Gokudera's tiny apartment kitchen, Gokudera seated on his table, swinging a foot and watching with rather alarming disinterest as Takeshi cleaned and wrapped the gouge in his arm.

"There." Takeshi tied the bandage off.

Gokudera slid to his feet and flexed his arm a lot more freely than Takeshi would have thought wise when it wasn't absolutely necessary. "Yeah, that'll do." He looked aside. "Thanks."

Takeshi sighed softly. He knew it was possible to get through to Gokudera; Tsuna had done it more or less by accident.

So maybe the question was, what did Tsuna do that he wasn't? He thought about that as he put the emergency kit back in order. Tsuna was diffident, unthreatening. Except when he was in the grip of his Will, and then he got less diffident and more threatening than any two of his Guardians put together, and Takeshi had seen Gokudera watching when Tsuna was like that. If anything, Gokudera's focus on Tsuna got even tighter, then. Tsuna was accepting, but Gokudera wasn't responding to simple acceptance from Takeshi. Of course Tsuna was so completely transparent about it...

Takeshi paused in the act of stowing the kit back in Gokudera's rather bare cupboard. "Gokudera." He turned to look at him, wondering if he'd gotten it at last. "Do you think I'm lying?"

Gokudera blinked at him. "Huh?"

"When I say I trust you. Do you think I'm lying?"

Gokudera's shoulders jerked and pulled tight. "I'm sure your word is good," he said flatly, staring out the kitchen window.

Takeshi had a feeling he'd just stepped in another mafia custom of some kind, but he'd figure that out later. The important thing was that, obviously, his word alone really wasn't enough. He chewed on his lip for a moment, thinking. He didn't think he could be as clear as Tsuna was, but maybe... maybe Gokudera would accept a different kind of evidence. Something that wasn't just words.

And he could think of one thing that Gokudera couldn't possibly misunderstand, no matter how determined he was.

Gokudera looked around again as Takeshi came closer, frowning a little. "What?"

Takeshi smiled, just a little wry. "You can hit me for this, if I'm really wrong." He lifted Gokudera's chin and bent his head to kiss him gently.

Gokudera froze, staring at him. But not slugging him, which Takeshi took as a good sign. He slid an arm around Gokudera and drew him closer, slow and careful.

"What...?" Gokudera was stiff as a board, eyes wide and a little wild.

"I thought you might believe body language more than words," Takeshi explained, one hand rubbing Gokudera's back.

"You can't... It's not..." Gokudera shook his head violently, though he wasn't pulling away, which made something in the back of Takeshi's head sit up and take notice. "You can't."

"Can't what?" Takeshi asked, quietly.

"I'm not... You don't..." Gokudera's jaw tightened. "You can't think I'm worth anything."

Takeshi considered that for a moment, head cocked. "Why not?"

Gokudera opened his mouth and closed it again, looking rather lost. Finally he glanced aside and mumbled, "No one does?"

Takeshi took a slow breath, fitting pieces together in his head. Gokudera might think that was true but he had to be desperate for it not to be, or else Takeshi would have eaten dynamite the second he touched him. "Tsuna does," he pointed out, hoping to springboard from this inarguable fact. Before he could, though, Gokudera spoke again.

"No one else." He wasn't stiff any more, but he was still, completely still, eyes dark and cold as he gazed blankly over Takeshi's shoulder. Takeshi almost shivered at that cold, except that a spark of genuine anger was starting to warm him up.

No one should have something like this done to them.

"Someone," he corrected, firmly, turning Gokudera's head back toward him and gathering him closer.

Gokudera started, jarred out of that frozen stillness, and and still not socking Takeshi one for doing this. Takeshi nodded.

"Someone," he repeated, softer, and kissed Gokudera again, deliberate this time, coaxing, because he'd be damned if he let Gokudera go on thinking like that. This time he was rewarded with a quick, uneven breath and Gokudera's fingers tightening in his shirt for a moment.

"Yamamoto..."

Takeshi wound his arms snugly around Gokudera. "Hmm?" He could feel tiny shivers running through Gokudera and lifted a hand to knead the nape of Gokudera's neck, slow and firm.

"You really...? I mean..." Gokudera looked up at him, conflicting expressions tangling in his eyes—tense fear and disbelief and a tiny glow of wonder.

"I really mean it," Takeshi told him gently. "We're all in this together. I'm glad we are." He smiled, brushing back Gokudera's hair. "You're amazing, you know."

A faint pink crept across Gokudera's cheekbones and he glanced aside again. Takeshi resolved to tell him that was adorable, some time when it wouldn't undo months on end of work.

"Okay," Gokudera said softly. "I... I believe you."

Takeshi smiled. It was a good start.

End

Five Things That Never Happened to Xanxus

These are things that never happened to Xanxus, but could have done, if only things had started out just a bit differently. This fic is what happens when you say to yourself, "Gosh, I've been writing a lot of Xanxus angst lately. I wonder if it is possible to write Xanxus in such a way that he is, well, functionally broken instead of just psychopathically insane." And then you get tackled by a plot bunny that is the size of a goddamn linebacker. Teen and up; warnings for Xanxus doing the things that make him Xanxus.

1. First Encounters

Xanxus stared up at the old geezer—this smiling old fool was supposed to be the Vongola Ninth? please—and lifted a hand to show him the Flame when he asked for it. Surprise widened the geezer's eyes. "Oh, I see now," he said, voice quiet, and actually knelt right there in the street, ignoring all the garbage and crap and what it was doing to the knees of that fancy suit. He laid his hands on Xanxus' shoulders.

Xanxus stiffened. "What the hell?" he demanded.

His mother trembled at his back. "Xanxus, don't be rude—"

The geezer raised a hand, and Xanxus glared at him harder as he touched Xanxus' jaw and forehead, fingertips cool against Xanxus' skin. "I see," he said, again, slowly.

"Wish to fuck you'd explain what the hell that means," Xanxus told him.

"Xanxus," Ma moaned. "Don't—don't—"

"It's all right, Madam." The geezer stood, dusting his hands. "I believe the two of you should accompany me. We have much to discuss."

Xanxus could feel her shake again. "I knew it," she said, in that voice she got when she was about to go off on one of her fits. "Oh, I knew this day would come."

"Yes, I expect you did," the geezer said, looking back down at Xanxus. "Come along, then." He held out a hand to Xanxus.

Xanxus sneered at him; what did he look like, a kid?

The geezer huffed, and let it settle on Xanxus' shoulder instead. Xanxus tolerated it for the time being, letting him guide them over to the cars—big black ones, gleaming against the rottenness of their neighborhood, making it even clearer how crappy the place actually was, and how much the geezer and his goons didn't belong here.

"They'll ride with me," the geezer told his men. They all got constipated looks at that, which was funny to see.

They put Xanxus up front, and Ma rode with the geezer in the back. Xanxus listened in, but it wasn't shoptalk, not yet, just the geezer asking a lot of nosy questions about how he and Ma lived. She sounded pretty much like she was back in control of herself, so Xanxus ignored her. Not like she couldn't handle herself when it came to actually negotiating her prices. Was the one thing she actually managed to do right, most of the time.

Since he didn't have to monitor her and the geezer—and fuck, he hoped he'd still be able to get it up at that age—Xanxus watched the city roll by, wavery behind thick glass, until it gave way to the countryside. That was weird, too empty by half, so he turned his attention to the interior of the car, which was all gleaming metal and wood and leather, one more way of demonstrating that he and Ma were either way out of their league, or moving up in the world.

"Don't do that," the driver said, first thing he'd said since he'd put the car in gear, when Xanxus reached out for a set of buttons.

"Don't tell me what to do," Xanxus retorted, and kept on reaching.

"I said don't," the driver said, and caught Xanxus' hand, all without looking away from the road. He twisted it tight, till Xanxus gasped at the strain. "Those go to the windows," he added, all conversational. "We don't lower the windows, not with the Ninth in the car. That way, no one can shoot him. Got it?"

"Yeah," Xanxus grunted, eyes beginning to water.

"Good," the driver said, and released him.

Xanxus rubbed his wrist and glared at him, but it rolled right off the bastard. That was new. People usually reacted more when he did that. "What do those do?" he asked, finally, pointing at another set of buttons.

"They go to the radio." Xanxus saw him glance at the mirror, and then he reached over and pressed another button. Behind them, a screen rose, separating the front seat and the back seat. "Here, see?" he said, and demonstrated. "Find a station you like."

Xanxus spent most of the rest of the ride scanning the stations—the car radio picked up more than Ma's crappy old set did. A lot more clearly, too.

Even so, it wasn't really until they rolled up to the house that Xanxus began to believe that the geezer might be for real. The house—hell, it might have even qualified as a House—looked about as big as a city block to Xanxus' eyes. It was just like the car inside, too—big and luxurious, more money than Xanxus had ever seen in his life all in one place, and that was just in the goddamn hallways. The geezer spoke to his men, and then led them to a room that was full of sunlight and heavy old furniture, and had the same kind of wavery view as the car windows had. The geezer had them sit, but stayed on his own feet.

Xanxus was starting to hate the way the geezer kept staring at him.

Before he could say something, Ma spoke. "Why did you bring us here?" she asked, all breathy, the way she got when she was trying to charm some new man of hers.

"I couldn't not," the geezer said, blunt, like he hadn't even noticed. "The Vongola can't afford to have you fall into another Family's hands. And it would be a shame if another Family tried to kill you, or we had to do it ourselves. You'll live here now."

Killing? That was interesting. Xanxus looked up, actually interested in the geezer for the first time, while Ma made a sound, like that wasn't what she'd expect to hear at all. "But he's your son."

The geezer didn't look away from Xanxus. "No, Madam, I am afraid that you are mistaken. He is not my son."

Xanxus ignored Ma's tiny, broken sound and looked back, straight at him. "Yeah, so what else is new?" Not like he wasn't used to the names people called him. He wasn't anybody's son. He'd gotten to the point where he liked it that way.

"You have a Vongola Flame," the geezer said, candidly. "And a certain look, around the forehead and the jaw. I expect you're descended from one of the Second's by-blows. They crop up with depressing regularity." He moved, leaning against the desk, relaxed. "Sometimes my predecessors chose to simply eliminate individuals such as yourself," he added, casual. "You can't be allowed to inherit the position of the boss, since you're not of a legitimate line. That hasn't stopped certain people from trying anyway, so a sense of prudence suggests that we ought to avert those incidents by nipping them in the bud."

Ma was crying now, soft and gulping, but she wasn't really all that good at paying attention to what people were saying when it didn't fit in with how she thought the world was supposed to work. Xanxus leaned forward, interested in spite of himself. "Yeah? So why aren't you doing it that way?"

"I haven't decided not to," the geezer said, and actually smiled when he said it. "But I'd prefer not to kill anyone unless it becomes strictly necessary. I hate to be wasteful."

"Makes more sense to stop trouble before it ever starts," Xanxus retorted.

"There are more ways of doing that than just killing the source of the potential trouble," the geezer replied. "You have a Vongola Flame. You are of the Vongola. We have a responsibility to our Family, and our Family has a responsibility to us."

"So... what?" Xanxus replied, narrowing his eyes at the geezer. "You want me to... what? In exchange for... what?"

The geezer was still smiling, like he was in on some joke that Xanxus wasn't getting. "We take you and your mother in. We educate you, and find a place for you, and name you one of our Family. In return, you serve us in whatever capacity best fits you."

The hell he said. "What if I don't want to serve?"

"Then you must not be allowed to bring harm to us," the geezer said, voice soft. "The Family is paramount to all other considerations."

Xanxus snorted. "I'd like to see you try," he retorted, calling on the Flame.

The geezer just smiled at him some more. "Don't do something you'll regret," he said, voice soft.

"Don't think that I'm going to just knuckle over to you, old man." Xanxus gathered himself, prepared to spring forward, and—

The geezer stood and gestured, and was holding a goddamned scepter all of a sudden. Xanxus would have cared more about that, but the geezer had a Flame of his own, and the sudden weight of it, so heavy that he had to gasp for breath, pressed Xanxus back down into his chair. "I doubted that you would do any such thing," the geezer—except he wasn't a geezer, was he? the whole thing had been some kind of act—the Ninth told him, voice cool and heavy with Flame. "But make no mistake. You can serve and stand with us, or you must stand against us." He reached out and laid his hand against Xanxus' forehead. Xanxus thought he might have made a sound against the weight of that touch, but couldn't manage to care as the Ninth's Flame wrapped around him and held him. Xanxus struggled against that grip, but it was stronger than he was. He'd never met anyone stronger than him before; the surprise of it made him still. "I would greatly prefer it if you were to become one of ours."

Behind the strength of that Will there was an offer, a conditional one, and a choice, all backed by an unshakeable resolve to do what was best for the Family, regardless of the cost.

Xanxus could just about respect that. "All right," he gasped. "All right! I'll do it!"

The Ninth curbed his Flame and Xanxus sagged, panting, as the weight came away from him. "I am pleased to hear it."

"Yeah, don't get used to it." Xanxus flexed his hands; he didn't remember banishing his Flame, but it was gone like it'd never been there. "You might be worth it. Don't know about anyone else."

The Ninth inclined his head at that, still smiling faintly. "If you like," he said. "But I'd advise you not to put your faith in men like me."

"Whatever," Xanxus said, eyeing him warily.

The Ninth chuckled. "Put it into the Family, which is bigger than us all."

"Yeah, we'll see," Xanxus muttered.

The Ninth's smile turned broader. "Yes," he said, "you will."

2. Stray

The old man had told him to stick close to the Vongola's Rome headquarters, and Xanxus had given that about as much consideration as he'd thought it had deserved. Now, standing in the middle of a slum in Rome, surrounded by men in suits who weren't Vongola, he was starting to think maybe the old man'd had a point after all. "The fuck do you want?" he demanded, assessing the numbers and deciding that this was going to be a cast iron bitch to get himself out of.

"You're the Vongola's bastard, aren't you?" That was the biggest one of the goons, the guy who was probably in charge.

Xanxus sneered. "Who wants to know?" He called on the Flame, since this wasn't going to end with them all holding hands and singing together, and it never hurt to look impressive.

"That's him all right," one of the other goons said. "Can't mistake the Vongola Flame."

Yeah, showed how much they knew.

The head goon tried for a smile and failed. "Why don't you just come along with us, and we'll talk about it?" the head goon told him.

Xanxus curled and uncurled his hands. "Why don't you blow me?" He launched himself at the head goon and had smashed his face in before the stupid piece of shit had finished gaping at him.

It had been a while since he'd been in an all-out brawl. Xanxus bared his teeth at the rest of them for the fierce joy of it. "Come one, I'll take you all on," he promised them, while they stood frozen in that moment before reaction. "C'mon, you fucking trash."

That woke them up, all right. Xanxus waded into them, lashing out with Flame and fist and laughing at the satisfaction of it. Been way too long since he'd been able to beat the shit out of someone. He'd missed it.

What he hadn't missed was being fucking out-numbered, and out-gunned. The goons all had guns, which was really fucking inconsiderate of them, considering how all he had was his Flame.

He'd just started sorting through his options—all two of them, surrender or go down fighting—as he eyed the closing circle of guns and grinning goons when the balance of things shifted again, this time in his direction.

The first sign of it was a ripple of disturbance in the ranks at the back of the crowd, and then the sound of someone shouting a warning that got cut short by a gurgle. That was enough to distract some of them, which was all Xanxus really needed. As they turned, he lashed out with his Flame again, whipping it across faces and hands, and was viciously satisfied by the shrieks and curses of the men who clutched at their burns.

He never actually saw the man who shot him.

One minute he was laughing; the next, something had punched him, so hard that the shock registered on some gut level, and his arm was hanging at his side, useless.

Xanxus swore, good hand coming up, Flame wrapped around it as he tried to find the bastard who'd dared. Someone crashed into him before he could, knocking him sideways and flattening him against the pavement. He struggled against the weight and the hands that were holding him down, until the guy swore at him. "Just stay down, you stupid brat, and stop making yourself a target!"

He recognized that voice, and blinked up at the old man's youngest son, confused as all fuck. "The hell are you doing here?"

Federico looked down at him, impatient for the first time that Xanxus had ever seen. "Saving your sorry ass," he retorted, and rolled back to his feet.

Xanxus had never seen Federico so much as raise his voice at someone in the two years since the old man had dragged him and Ma out of the slums. Now the man was burning like a torch, Flame as bright as the old man's was, as he whirled into the goons like grim death itself, sword flickering against them, fast and deadly.

Be damned. Xanxus hadn't actually thought Federico had had it in him.

It was over fast, after that. The goons—what was left of them at that point—broke and ran for it, and a few of Federico's men gave chase. Xanxus was pushing himself to his feet, which was surprisingly difficult to do with only one working arm, when Federico turned on him. "You," he said, as his hand collided with the side of Xanxus' head. "What the hell do you think you're doing out here all by yourself? Didn't you hear Dad tell you not to go out alone?" Federico stripped the tie from around his throat as Xanxus stared, frankly astonished by the blow, and hauled Xanxus closer. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?" he demanded, wrapping the tie around Xanxus' arm, yanking it tight.

Xanxus hissed at the rough handling. "The fuck do you care? You don't even like me."

"That's true," Federico said, turning him again and pushing him down the alley, propelling him—ah, there were cars waiting for them. "You're a violent little psychopath, and I would have definitely preferred it if Dad had just brought home a stray puppy instead of you." He shoved Xanxus into the car ahead of him, and had barely climbed in after Xanxus before it lurched into gear. "But you're Family now. Fucked if I'm going to let the Pozzo Nero fuck with my Family."

As Xanxus stared at him, blinking and stupid—it was the blood loss, had to be—Federico tore strips out of his own shirt and folded them into a pad. The stab of pain when Federico pressed it against the wound shocked him out of it again. "Oh," he said, and then rallied himself. "I don't like you, either."

Federico grinned at him. "Yeah, tell me something I didn't already know, brat," he said, holding steady pressure on Xanxus' arm. "Seriously. We could have just gotten a puppy. Lot less trouble, puppies, since they don't go out and do stupid shit like getting themselves shot by disobeying direct orders."

"Fuck you." Xanxus glared at him.

Federico ignored it, still grinning. "That the best you can do?"

Xanxus growled at him, wordless, and looked away, staring out the window determinedly.

After a moment, Federico huffed, and added, "Good fighting, by the way. Never seen someone take out that many men with just their hands and a Flame."

"I want a gun," Xanxus told him, still staring out the window. "My own gun. Maybe two."

"Mm. You're a little young."

"I'm twelve!"

"Like I said. A little young."

Xanxus turned and glared at him. "How am I supposed to deal with situations like these, then?"

"By not being reckless enough to put yourself into them in the first place?" Federico suggested, mildly. "Considering who you are—"

"Fuck that. I'm not actually his bas—"

"Not actually Dad's kid, I know," Federico said, in that really fucking obnoxious way he had of putting everything into nice words when the actual truth was ugly as sin. "But people think you are, so they're going to try to use that against us. Like it or not, you have to deal with that. Not going out alone when we're at war with the Pozzo Nero would be a nice first step."

"I don't want a fucking bodyguard," Xanxus said, and looked away from him. "I can handle things myself."

"You can, sure," Federico told him. "But you don't have to. That's what Family is, you stubborn brat."

"Whatever," Xanxus muttered. "I still don't want a bodyguard. I'm strong enough on my own."

Federico sighed. "Stubborn," he muttered, and then his voice changed, and the atmosphere inside the car turned taut. The warning came too late, and Xanxus cursed as Federico's fingers dug into his arm and Federico's Flame lit his eyes again. "You're not strong enough on your own," Federico announced, Will holding Xanxus in place, implacable as the Ninth's. "I saved your life today. If your Family hadn't been there, you would be dead right now, shot in the back in a stinking alley." Xanxus jerked against Federico, pushing against Federico's Will, but Federico held firm. His fingers tightened on Xanxus' arm again, and his Will reached into Xanxus, implacable, forcing him to listen and to hear. "You are strong, but your Family is stronger, and will make you stronger. You are not alone any more. Understand?"

Federico's Flame underlined the question, and so did Xanxus' blood on the remains of Federico's shirt and on the hands that were gripping his bicep. "Yeah," Xanxus said, slow and grudgingly, not about to admit that Federico had won. "All right."

Federico held him in his Will a little bit longer, and then released him, looking satisfied when he did. "Good," he said.

Xanxus looked aside, now that he could. "You and the old man are crazy." The hell did they think they were doing, just taking him in like that, anyway? It was like they didn't even know how dangerous he could be.

And never mind the faint suspicion he had that he had given in this time, instead of being overwhelmed. That was just crazy.

"Hey, don't go blaming me. I already told you that I wanted a puppy." Federico's voice was cheerful. "But we got you instead, so I'll make do."

Xanxus just growled at him, especially when Federico set a hand in his hair and ruffled it lightly. Before he could do anything about it, the car had pulled in at the Vongola house, and it fell away again in the rush for a doctor and the storm of the old man's anger.

Xanxus didn't think about it again until a box showed up in his room several days later, without a card or a source or anything to say where it had come from. But he didn't need a card, not when the box had a pair of matched handguns in it—the message was loud and clear.

3. Canis lupus

"Hey there, pup."

Federico had the most fucking irritating way of being able to find Xanxus when Xanxus least wanted to deal with any members of the Family. "Fuck off," he growled, dodging the hand that descended to ruffle his hair. "And I'm not a damn puppy. Stop treating me like I'm your fucking lapdog."

Federico whistled. "You are in a temper," he observed, and settled himself on the roof next to Xanxus. The sniper whose post this was made a pained noise, probably because Federico didn't look like he intended to go anywhere any time soon.

Xanxus growled at him again, but the effect was ruined when his voice broke halfway through. Fucking puberty. "Go away."

"Not till I know what's bothering you so much that you're terrorizing poor Lucien."

"Poor Lucien my ass," Xanxus muttered. "He's a fucking menace, is what he is."

"He's a tutor," Federico said. Bastard wasn't even trying to pretend he wasn't laughing. "The most dangerous thing he knows is trigonometry."

Xanxus begged to fucking differ. "Dancing lessons. Motherfucking dancing lessons!"

Federico hooted with laughter. "So you tried to shoot him. I see now. You know Dad's going to have to pay him an awful lot to stay on after that little stunt, right?"

"He should save his money." Xanxus glared out across the landscape, all Vongola land as far as he could see, since glaring at Federico did a whole lot of nothing. "The fuck do I need to know how to dance for?"

"Comes in handy at parties, or so I hear."

"Parties." Xanxus sneered. "Fuck. What do I look like, some kind of diplomat?"

"I sincerely doubt that any of us are going to mistake you for the Family ambassador, I promise." Federico was still laughing, damn his eyes. "But they'll start inviting you to parties sooner or later. You're going to have be ready for when that happens."

"Fuck." Xanxus shuddered at the very idea of having to deal with more people, ones who weren't even Family, and who would all think... "Fucking fuck."

"...hey." Federico's hand landed on his nape. "What's really bothering you, pup?"

Xanxus stared away from him. "You're as bad the old man," he said, finally. Language lessons and etiquette lessons, horseback riding and history and mathematics, like he was the old man's actual bastard and not just the stray that politics had forced the old man to adopt. "Trying to make me into something else." He tried to lean away from Federico's fingers.

They just curled tighter and kept him in place. "How so?"

"Dance lessons." Xanxus looked out over the orchards to the north of the House. "Etiquette lessons. Parties. Fuck. It's like you fucking think that's the kind of person I am. Hell, it's like you think I really am his bastard."

"People are going to think that no matter what," Federico said. "You need the tools to negotiate—"

He sounded all sympathetic, and something in Xanxus snapped. "I don't want to fucking negotiate! I want to fucking shoot people!" he shouted, twisting away from Federico's hand on his nape, this time successfully. "I don't want to smile and make nice with our enemies, I want to fight them! I'm not your fucking lap dog—I'm a fucking wolf, only you and that shitty old man won't let me be!"

Federico let him get the whole damn thing out, wearing his patient I'm listening and I care deeply face the whole time. "Don't hold back," he said, when Xanxus had finished and was panting and feeling raw with having finally said it out loud. "Tell me how you really feel."

"Fuck you. Fuck you a whole lot." Xanxus turned away from him and hunched himself over his knees.

"One of these days, I'm going to have to teach you some more creative ways to swear at people." Federico shifted, climbing to his feet, and then held a hand down to him. "C'mon."

Xanxus glared at it, and thought about smacking it away, except that the sniper was really giving him a nasty look for all the shouting, and would probably shoot him for striking the Ninth's precious Heir. "What?"

"We're going to go talk to Dad."

Xanxus glanced up at him, wary; Federico was still smiling, but there was steel in it now. "What about?"

"Finding you something that'll be a better fit." Federico jerked his head at the door. "C'mon, no time like the present."

Now what the hell was that supposed to mean?

Federico sighed while Xanxus puzzled over this new turn in Federico's mood, and leaned over to haul him to his feet. "I'd swear, sometimes it's like you don't understand a word I'm saying."

"That's because sometimes I don't," Xanxus muttered. "Seeing as I don't speak Lunatic."

"Really? And here I thought you were a native speaker." Federico pulled him inside and dragged him back downstairs.

They really were going to go see the Ninth—Federico took him right to the old man's study and waltzed right on in like he owned it. Xanxus guessed he did, sort of, or would eventually. Federico didn't even seem to mind that he was interrupting the old man at work.

"Federico," the old man said, giving his son a tolerant look and Xanxus a rather sharper glance. Yeah, he'd heard about the thing with goddamn Lucien by now, all right. "What is it?"

"It's time we found Xanxus a place in the Family that can make use of his skills, don't you think?" Federico said, maneuvering Xanxus to a spot in front of the desk and planting himself next to him.

"I beg your pardon?" the old man asked, those bushy eyebrows of his climbing up his forehead.

Federico set a hand on Xanxus' shoulder. "A more suitable position, I think," he said, casual. "Some place where he can do the things he does best. I'm thinking he might try a stint with the Varia."

Xanxus looked up at him, sharply—the fucking Varia? That would be—

"Out of the question," the Ninth said, flat. "Have you lost your mind? He's still a child. The Vongola are not so desperate for soldiers that I would send a child to fight for us."

"I'm fourteen," Xanxus said, offended to his core, but they both ignored him.

"He may be a child, but he's a fighter, Dad." Federico's own voice had gone flat. "He's always been a fighter, and he always will be. You think that it is a kindness to shelter him from the harsher realities of our life, but it's not. He doesn't want the Vongola to shelter him. I say that it's time to stop caging him and hoping that doing so will tame him, because it's not working. Keeping him penned up is only going to make him wilder."

"No," the Ninth said, eyes gone steely. "No, I will not countenance it. When he's older, when he knows what it is that he's deciding—"

"Xanxus," Federico said, face and voice going still, like he was on the edge of calling his Flame. Xanxus found himself responding to that tone without quite meaning to, spine snapping straight as Federico addressed him. "How old were you when you killed your first man?"

"Dunno," Xanxus said, which was the honest truth. "Eight, maybe? Something like that. He was hassling Ma, I think. Wanted more of her take than they'd agreed to—no, wait, that was someone else. I think." He shrugged. "Never kept track. Sorry."

The old man was starting to look pained. Federico just squeezed Xanxus' shoulder. "Thank you," he said. "I don't think the details are really that important."

"If you're sure," Xanxus said, watching the old man's mouth go tighter.

"Federico—"

"No, Dad." Federico's voice was quiet, and the first echoes of his Will were stirring below its surface. "He's not an innocent to be protected, and he hasn't been for a long damn time. It would be nice if we could make up for that now, but we can't. What we can do is respect what Xanxus is by letting him serve the way he's fitted himself to serve us. The way he wants to serve us."

Xanxus held his breath through the whole of Federico's speech, shocked by the clarity with which Federico saw him, and the stubbornness in his voice and his Will, all set against the Ninth for his sake. Who would ever have thought that Federico would do such a thing for him?

The old man seemed just as surprised about Federico taking Xanxus' part as Xanxus himself was. "This is what you'd set yourself against me for?"

"I would set myself against the world for any of my people," Federico said, perfectly serene, and that casual claim drew Xanxus taut. Federico squeezed his shoulder again. "Ask him. Let him tell you what he wants for himself."

The Ninth's eyes flicked to Xanxus' face. "Well, boy?" he asked, slow and reluctant.

"Could I join the Varia?" Xanxus asked, and fuck if he cared how eager that made him sound. "They get the really interesting missions, right?"

"They slaughter the Vongola's enemies." The Ninth's voice was harsh. "They are assassins and remorseless, ruthless killers."

Xanxus matched him, stare for stare. "Like I said. Interesting."

"You see, Dad?" Federico's voice was soft. "Just be grateful that he's ours. Forget the rest. It's not going to happen."

"It seems not." The Ninth looked away from them booth. "I'll speak to Tyr."

"Thank you, Father," Federico said, and bowed, old-fashioned and formal. He pulled Xanxus down with him. "My apologies for interrupting you." He clapped Xanxus on the shoulder when they'd straightened up again. "C'mon, you."

Xanxus was pleased enough with matters—the motherfucking Varia, hot damn!—that he let Federico shuffle them out of the old man's study without protest. Federico stopped them in the hallway. "All right," he said, looking down at Xanxus, still in serious business mode. "You owe me, and I'm going to tell you how I plan on collecting."

"How?" Xanxus asked, wary, since it always paid to be careful of Federico in this mood.

"You're going to be one of the Vongola's best fighters," Federico said. "Possibly even one of the fighters who'll live on in our legends after you manage to get yourself killed, depending. But I'm going to ask you to do something harder than spilling blood for us."

"Like what?" Xanxus said, pretending that he wasn't pleased by the praise.

"Learn the social rules. And the dancing. You don't have to like them, but you have to learn them," Federico said, and he sounded absolutely implacable about it. "I will not have you disgrace me, and I will not have you be vulnerable to our enemies by not knowing how to handle them when shooting them isn't an option. Do you understand?"

Xanxus scowled at him. "Can't I just—"

"No. You can't," Federico told him, flat. "You have to do this. This is not negotiable." Then his mouth quirked. "Think of it as a method of fighting, just in a different medium. If it helps."

Xanxus huffed at him. "It doesn't." He looked away. The Varia. And Federico had faced down the old man to do it. Goddamnit, he did owe him, didn't he? "Fine."

"Thank you," Federico said, and ruffled his hair. "It won't be so bad," he promised. "Not if you're going to be Varia. People will be too terrified to talk to you."

"Hmph." But the idea had a certain appeal to it.

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that, cub." Federico ruffled his hair again and turned away.

"Cub?" Xanxus echoed, raking his hands through his hair and reordering it. "The hell?"

Federico grinned over his shoulder. "You're not a wolf yet," he said. "Yet. But you're getting there."

And he laughed as he strolled away, as Xanxus stared after him, too surprised to say anything to that at all.

4. Dies Irae

Tyr listened, impassive as a stone god, as the Ninth explained the mission he'd like the Varia to take, and when the old man had finished, simply said, "No."

Xanxus felt his commander's refusal like a blow, but the old man—and damn it, he really did look like an old man now, and moved and spoke like one, showing every last year of his age now—the old man just sighed. "Less than a ninety percent chance of completing the mission successfully, then?"

"The Cetrulli are an old and powerful Family," Tyr said. "Their strength is comparable to our own, and they did manage to breach our own security to kill Federico." The old man flinched at the name of his son, but it just made Xanxus' rage sharper to hear it spoken so casually. Tyr took no notice of either of them, and carried on with his analysis. "We cannot move against them in a covert fashion, retaliate as you have asked us to do, and remain undetected."

"And that would mean open warfare, which is outside the Varia's purview," the old man said, and rubbed his forehead. "All right, thank you. We'll find some other way."

That was the absolute limit. "Fuck that," Xanxus ground out, even though it wasn't his place to speak up in this council, or do anything more than observe. "Fuck keeping it a secret. Kill 'em all and let the whole world know what you get for fucking with our Family."

"It's not that easy," the old man said, weary. "I'd like nothing more than that, but—"

"But nothing! They killed Federico!" Had punched right through Federico's security while he'd been on holiday with his family and had killed them all—and just the thought of it made Xanxus curl his hands into fists, both the Vongola Flame and the other one, the one he hadn't used in years, rousing in response.

"But I am not willing to declare open war on the Cetrulli," the Ninth said, flat, while his advisors stirred and muttered, and Tyr hissed, "Control yourself!"

Xanxus flexed his hands, Wrath and Will burning hotter. "Fuck the politics," he gritted out. "You know I'm right."

"And I know that I have no right to tell the commander of the Varia which missions he will accept!" the Ninth retorted. "Your commander has said no, and will not take part in an open war against the Cetrulli. The Vongola will find another way."

"Is that how it is?" Xanxus breathed, possibility crystallizing itself for him, clear and perfect as ice.

"That's how it is."

Xanxus furled his Flames away, against the moment when he would need them. "Fine."

The old man nodded, because he'd never understood Xanxus half as well as Federico had, and had never seen far enough. "Moving on, then."

Tyr stayed to listen to the old man and his advisors argue over alternative schemes, and to give his advice. Xanxus waited them out, darkly amused by the fact that the old man and his men couldn't come to any satisfactory conclusions, and by the covert frustration that showed every time they looked at Tyr, until the old man called an end to things for the morning.

Tyr ignored all of them and swept out of the meeting with his usual magisterial calm. Xanxus followed after him like a good little squad leader.

His commander was no fool. Tyr went straight to the Varia's practice yard, and only spoke to Xanxus once they were there. "You spoke very much out of turn this morning," he noted, as he faced Xanxus and loosened his sword in its sheath.

"But I'm right, damn it," Xanxus said, and let his Flames unwind themselves again as he faced the man down. "You know I am."

"I know that you think that you are right." Tyr was as dispassionate here as he was in everything, and that made Xanxus want to grind his teeth. "I know that you do not have to concern yourself with the same things I do, and that you have the luxury of being able to allow yourself to be angry."

"It's not a fucking luxury." Xanxus flexed his hands, opening and closing them, watching him. Fucking luxuries weren't supposed to hurt so damn much. "What are the chances of doing the mission successfully, open warfare aside?"

Tyr lifted a shoulder, his eyes never leaving Xanxus'. "If we don't worry about remaining concealed? Nearly a hundred percent. But we can't do the mission without revealing ourselves, and I will not let that happen."

"Why the hell not?" Xanxus demanded, rage burning hotter, till the air shimmered around him. "It's not like anyone doesn't know we exist, even if they pretend not to."

Tyr smiled, faint, just the corners of his mouth lifting. "Nevertheless. While I am the leader of the Varia, we will remain a secret. An open secret, if necessary, but a secret."

Even while that made him growl, Xanxus had to admire how well his commander knew him, and appreciate the opening. "Maybe it's time the Varia had a new commander."

"Think carefully," Tyr told him, still wearing that little smile. "Are you ready to do this? You're nineteen—do you really think you're ready to take over if—if—you can cut me down?"

"I guess we'll have to find out," Xanxus told him, and attacked.

Tyr had twenty years and some on him, and had trained with the sword his whole life. He had been one of the best training partners Xanxus had ever had, even without a Flame of his own, and Xanxus had always enjoyed their sparring matches. This was no training match, however, and Tyr hurled himself at Xanxus, grim and intent. Xanxus caught Tyr's sword on one of his guns, and they closed with each other. Tyr's lips peeled back from his teeth as Xanxus lashed out with his Flames. "It seems that Federico's wolf has gone rabid," he noted.

Xanxus just snarled at him, wordless, and they broke apart.

The battle dragged on, since neither of them would give way; Xanxus was dimly aware that the clash of it was drawing spectators to the training yard—other members of the Varia coming to linger at its edges, silent observers who didn't move to interfere. He paid them no mind, being more concerned with Tyr's sword and the gun that had gone spinning away, thanks to a particularly clever twist of Tyr's blade.

They closed again, and again; he raised a line of blisters along Tyr's cheek with the Wrath. Tyr laid his forearm open in return, on the next pass, when Xanxus wasted a precious fraction of a second reaching into his boot for his knife. They were both soaked with sweat when Tyr spoke again, against his ear, hushed. "Think, if you still can," he said, as they wrestled with each other. "Killing them all won't bring him back. Killing them won't lessen the grief that you feel."

"You're wrong," Xanxus retorted. "Killing them all will make me feel much better."

Tyr's bark of laughter was short and harsh. "God save us from reckless young fools and madmen," he said, as they broke apart again.

"You're a superstitious old fool," Xanxus growled at him.

Tyr just laughed again.

The sun had sunk behind the walls of the House and cast the training ground into shadow before the balance of the fight finally shifted. Xanxus harried Tyr across the yard, maneuvering him until the man put a foot down in one of the places where Xanxus' Flames had gouged at the earth. He wobbled for just a fraction of a section, but Xanxus had been waiting and ready for it, and lunged forward, ignoring the glancing blow of the sword against his shoulder and the way it sliced him open, and sank his boot knife into Tyr's chest, all the way to the hilt.

Tyr breathed out, a sigh that sounded regretful, and folded in on himself.

Xanxus caught him—he owed the man that much—and let Tyr's weight bear them to the ground. The look Tyr turned on him was resigned. "I always did wonder if it was going to be you," he managed, with one of his teeth-baring smiles. "Tell me something."

Xanxus raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Tyr's breath was starting to turn short and to gurgle. "Why didn't you just shoot me?"

Was that all? "No one would have followed me if I had."

"Maybe you know what you're doing after all," Tyr gasped, and died with laughter, frothy and red, on his lips.

Xanxus regarded him silently, and then closed his eyes and eased him the rest of the way down. Then he unpinned the Varia's crest from the dead man's jacket and rose. The edges cut into his fingers as he faced the other members of the Varia who were watching him. Xanxus lifted his hand, showing it to them. "This is mine now. Anyone want to argue about it?"

The training yard was silent, until one of the squad leaders shrugged and called, "All yours, Boss." He was echoed by a murmur of agreement.

"Good." Xanxus lowered his hand and retrieved his gun and knife, and turned away from them all.

"Where are you going, Boss?" someone called.

"To see the old man," Xanxus said, without breaking stride. "To see about our next mission."

People scurried out of his way as he stalked back inside; one of the serving girls shrieked outright at the sight of him. Xanxus ignored them all as he made for the old man's study and booted the door open.

The old man was clearly startled to see him. "What the—you look like a hot mess, boy."

He was probably right, but Xanxus couldn't find it in himself to care. He made his way to the old man's desk and dropped the badge on it. "When do you want us to move?" he asked.

The Ninth looked down and a series of emotions chased themselves over his face as he stared at the pin. "Oh, my boy," he said, finally, softly. "What damn fool thing have you gone and done now?"

That seemed like it should have been obvious, so Xanxus ignored the question and picked the badge up again. He weighed it in his fingers, and then pinned it to the remains his shirt, and was acutely conscious of the slight weight of it hanging there. "When do you want us to begin?"

The Ninth looked up at him, eyes grave and dark. "Get cleaned up," he said. "Tend to those wounds. Then come back, and we'll discuss it."

"Yes, Boss." Xanxus bowed, quick and sharp, and turned away from him.

The old man's voice stopped him at the door. "You didn't have to do this."

Xanxus looked back at him. "No," he said, at length. "You're wrong. I did."

The old man sighed, but didn't try to argue with him. After a moment longer, Xanxus went to clean up.

The Cetrulli died as easily as any men did, though in rather more pain than most. Xanxus led the mission against them himself, repaying the fire that had killed Federico with his own Flames and tearing the very heart of the Cetrulli Family out with his own hands. When the Varia were done with them, not a one of the Cetrulli's actual family was left breathing, nor any of its advisors or most of its commanders, and its shattered remains had scattered and were seeking shelter with any of the Cetrulli's allies that would take them in.

And Tyr, damn him, had been right. The fighting had been satisfying, had let him freeze himself over and throw himself into the fierce pleasure of extracting vengeance from the Cetrulli, but left Xanxus at loose ends when it had ended.

Fortunately, Tyr had been right about the other thing, too—the Varia could no longer remain secret, not when half the old Families were appalled that the Vongola had moved so ruthlessly against one of their own, and the other half had applauded. They were all at open war within the year, giving Xanxus all the battles he could desire. He bent his will on those, and ignored everything else.

By the time the last of the Ninth's sons fell, Xanxus no longer felt much about it at all, save for a certain weariness with the boredom of having to chase the last ragtag members of the Cetrulli to the ground in order to exterminate them.

5. Fire and Ice

Enrico had been dead for a year and a half, and the ceasefire between the surviving Families had held for an uneasy eight months, when the Ninth called Xanxus into his study.

Xanxus was glad of the summons. He'd been getting bored with all the peace and quiet.

"I have a question for you," the old man said, and laid his hands flat on his desk as he looked Xanxus over. "Many people think you are going to be my heir."

"People think a lot of things," Xanxus retorted.

"They do." The Ninth looked at him, head-on and serious. "I need to know. What do you think?"

"I think people are full of shit." Xanxus shrugged. "Not actually your bastard, remember? Some other guy's bastard. Therefore, not eligible."

"What if I told you that we could make the argument that you were?" The Ninth watched him, eyes sharp and focused. "What would you say then?"

"I'd say you're full of shit." Xanxus waved a hand at the old man's office. "You wanted me to take this, you would've been grooming me for it. If not when they got Massimo, then after they got Enrico. You don't want me as your heir. You've got something else up your sleeve."

"Is that so?" The Ninth leaned back in his seat. "How do you figure that?"

"You think I can't tell when you're testing me, old man?" Xanxus leaned back, too, and set an ankle over his knee. "You're too calm. You want to know what I think before you go order me to do something."

The Ninth's eyes glinted, just faintly. "Very well." He picked up one of the folders that was sitting at his elbow and passed it across the desk.

Xanxus flipped it open; there was a photo of a boy right on top, looking about as feckless as they came. "Who's this?"

"Sawada Tsunayoshi." Indeed, there was the label, on the back of the photo.

Xanxus glanced up. "Any relation to...?"

"His son, yes." The Ninth was still watching him.

Xanxus paged through the little dossier, till he came to the piece of paper that was a family tree. "You've got to be fucking with me," he said, and flipped back to the photo. No, the kid still looked like a fucking baby, and not even genetics could change that. "This is your new heir?"

"He's still a little raw," the Ninth said.

"A little raw? Fuck. He hasn't even been in the oven yet." Xanxus flipped the dossier closed. "You might as well invite all our enemies to a party and ask 'em to slit our throats."

"Mm." The Ninth picked up the other folder and offered it to him.

Xanxus flipped it open, expecting to find another possible heir. Instead, his own face stared up at him. "What's this...?" he asked, paging through the dossier rapidly. The Ninth didn't answer, didn't say a fucking word, until Xanxus reached the piece of paper, very like Sawada's, that traced his own family tree, right back to the Second.

He stared at it for so long that the Ninth finally cleared his throat. "The major distinction between you and Tsunayoshi," he said, as Xanxus raised his eyes from the family tree, "is that Tsuna's line is legitimated by the First's remarriage, and yours is not."

Xanxus just stared at him, silently, waiting for him to get to the point.

The Ninth gestured at the two dossiers in his hands. "Most of the Vongola favors you," he said. "The irregularities of your family tree can be overlooked, in light of that."

"Most," Xanxus repeated, hearing the harsh edge in his own voice. "What does that mean?"

"It means that the boy isn't one of us," the Ninth said. "He hasn't been raised in this world. Reborn has been with him since Enrico died. He says that Tsuna's heart is... very pure. Rather like Federico's." He stopped, and ran a hand over his face.

"Why tell me this?" Xanxus demanded, holding up the folder that someone had compiled on him. "If you want him, then why should I even matter?"

The Ninth dropped his hand from his eyes, and looked at him, steady. "Because I am asking you which one of you I should choose to be Tenth after me," he said, slow and even, and upset Xanxus' entire worldview by doing so.

The Varia had swung into action without a murmur of question when Xanxus went from the Ninth's office to their quarters, not even when Xanxus gave them some admittedly peculiar orders. They moved without question, proof that all the bastards knew what was good for them, and didn't even bat an eye at his choices, or the announcement that they were going to Japan. It wasn't till they were on the jet that Bel looked up from playing with his knives, grinning as sharp as they were, and asked, "What's up, Boss? We got a mission to kill someone or what?"

It was an understandable assumption; he'd assembled the strongest squad leaders the Varia had for this. "Something like that." Xanxus cast his eye over them, assessing them. "It's time to figure out who's going to be Tenth, me or Iemitsu's brat."

"Well, hot damn." Bel's grin stretched wider. "We gonna go kill him?"

"Maybe," Xanxus allowed; it wasn't out of the question. "We have to fight him for the rings."

Lussuria was the one who did the math first, looking around at the other five of them and then squeaking. "All of us?" he asked, breathless, and they stilled.

"Yeah," Xanxus told him, and watched them all grin at each other.

"We won't let you down, Boss," Levi vowed.

"You'd better fucking hope not," Xanxus told them, and hauled himself up, heading to the front of the jet's cabin, away from them and their speculations.

Squalo joined him there, all uninvited, and sat across from him. "So," he said, after a moment. "What's the plan?"

He should have known. "What plan?"

"Boss." Squalo gave him a long look, and then snorted. "Please. Like you don't always have a plan. And like you didn't have us do some damn weird things to get ready for this. So. What gives?"

Yeah, Squalo wasn't just his second because he was good with a sword. "Tell you later," he said, since Squalo got loud when he was surprised, or excited, and this was going to be one hell of a surprise, all right. Squalo wasn't going to see it coming, no matter what he'd put together in that pointy head of his.

Wasn't anybody going to see this one coming. Xanxus settled back into his seat, and smirked at nothing at all.

Xanxus didn't think much of Sawada Tsunayoshi the first time he met the boy. His photo in the Ninth's dossier hadn't encompassed the full flailing, wailing reality of the brat's existence. "That brat isn't fit to lick the boots of a real heir," he told Squalo, sourly, after the Cervello had outlined the way the ring battles would happen and they had retired to their headquarters.

"You're going to massacre him, Boss," Levi agreed, readily, missing the point entirely. "You're the only one fit to be the Tenth."

Squalo aimed a kick at him. "The boss wasn't talking to you," he grunted, and then jerked his head at the door. "Get out, all of you. We've got strategy to discuss."

They went, obediently or sullenly, each according to his kind, and Xanxus mused on the usefulness of having a second like Squalo, someone who understood Xanxus' moods without his ever having to make them clear. Once he had booted the door shut after Lussuria's slinking ass, Squalo underlined the point by getting Xanxus a drink, two fingers of whiskey, neat, all without a word.

"This is a fucking farce," Xanxus told him, when the alcohol was a warm glow in his belly.

Squalo kicked a chair over and straddled it, showing his teeth. "You're not wrong. Buncha weaklings, all of them. Beats the fuck outta me how they took Rokudou down."

"Luck," Xanxus grunted. "And probably Reborn." That one couldn't seem to help meddling.

Squalo's teeth flashed again. "Guess we'll see how far luck gets 'em this time."

Xanxus grunted at him.

Squalo didn't need more of a hint than that, and rose immediately. "Night, Boss," he said, and went out.

Xanxus let him go, considering the nature of luck and the Vongola's shitty run of it, these past few years, and then went to check the Gola Mosca, while he was thinking about it.

He reconsidered his stance on Sawada after the battle for the Lightning Ring. Even an observer could feel that there was power in the brat's Flame, as long as Sawada's people were concerned. Perhaps it hadn't been all luck and Reborn that had contributed to Rokudou's defeat.

But the brat was still ten years too early to be the Tenth. Too fucking naÃ¯ve, too—that much was clear in the shock on Sawada's face when the Cervello declared his half of the Sky Ring forfeit. Xanxus had to laugh at that—hadn't the brat known what kind of sacrifices a real boss had to be prepared to make? Especially when one of his Guardians was a damn toddler?

Ten years too fucking early, definitely, Xanxus decided, while the brat's friends consoled him for his stupid mistake. He had potential, yeah, but even the fucking Arcobaleno couldn't turn someone that wet behind the ears into a boss overnight.

The Zero Point came as a complete fucking surprise. Xanxus hadn't known that Will and Flame could turned in on themselves like that, going through heat to come out into cold that burned just as fiercely as the accusations that he had betrayed the Ninth. The image that Xanxus took with him as the Zero Point closed around him and dragged him down was the cool, regretful look in Sawada's eyes, and the last thing he felt was the shock of recognition at the sight—the face was all wrong, but he'd seen that look before, in the old man's eyes and in Federico's eyes.

When light and heat broke through that arctic darkness and dragged him out of that frozen silence, Xanxus could barely gasp for breath, stunned by the betrayal of his Flames and the weakness that gripped him. Mammon was hovering over him, holding a double handful of Vongola Rings and wearing a shit-eating smile that said Forgive and forget, eh Boss? as Bel proclaimed Xanxus the Tenth.

All Xanxus could do was laugh at that, at the utter ridiculousness of it, when he couldnâ€™t even get off the goddamn ground under his own power. Bel had to shove the damn ring on Xanxus' finger himself while Mammon prattled on about the mystic power the rings would give the new heir. "You don't know shit," Xanxus rasped to them, and clenched his fist around the ring.

He'd heard of the Vongola trial, mostly in whispers and the fragments of rumors, and hadn't given them more than cursory attention, because they'd never concern him. As the outside world fell away again, Bel's triumph and Mammon's smugness blending with the protests of Sawada's people, Xanxus had just long enough to wish that he'd listened to those whispers more closely.

Then the screaming started: a whole succession of voices, agonized and terrified, pleading for mercy or more time or just plain howling in senseless pain. Images came with the screams, explosions and shattered bodies, blood running across a thousand different floors and sliding off the edges of blades, and the empty gaze in the eyes of corpses, identical in men and women and children alike.

Revenge, someone whispered.

Ambush. Another voice.

Eradication. And another.

He was suspended in some kind of space, surrounded by a throng of shadowy figures. Their voices rustled like dead leaves brushing against each other, blending and overlaying each other, nearly indistinguishable.

Our past sins. Murder, revenge, betrayal. An insatiable thirst for power.

Xanxus looked through the throng, but their faces were shadowed, and even though he had seen portraits of them all, had lived for years in the house where their faces gazed down at him on a daily basis, he could not tell one from another, nor could he keep a count on them—were there eight? Or nine?

This is the bloodstained history of our Family, they whispered to him. Xanxus only half-listened, peering at them, trying to make a count, trying to bring their faces clear. You who hold the ring of the Vongola, you who claim the Sky—do you have the resolution to inherit the weight of these sins?

That one—that one might be the old man. Xanxus strained after him, but the shadow slipped away, replaced by one that may have been the Third. Xanxus snarled his frustration, and then snarled again when that shadow whirled away, too.

Do not look away, the throng whispered. Look and see the destiny of the successor of the Vongola. This is the purpose of the life you were given.

"Of course it is!" Xanxus flared, facing them and trying glare at all of them at once. "You think I don't know exactly what I am? You think I haven't given the orders to kill? You think I don't know exactly what my guns and my Flames are for?"

The throng of them circled closer, a sigh rippling through them at his answer. Will you pay the price? they asked. Will you shoulder the burden of our history and all its glory? Will you uphold the Vongola?

Xanxus snarled at them again. "I'll do whatever it takes," he told them, gesturing at the flood of history streaming around them. "I serve the Vongola. Doesn't matter who gets in the way of that, I'll cut them down."

They sighed and swayed as one. Ah...

It was the wrong answer; Xanxus knew it before the voices and images of their history fell away, before he found himself standing before the circle of them, nine in all. Only the old man showed any regret, looking at him.

The First spoke. "No," he said, and the weight of his voice and Will drove Xanxus to his knees. "That will not do. Your heart is frozen. You haven't shouldered our burden, even a little bit." He lifted his hand. "As you have rejected us, we reject you."

"Like that's a fucking surprise," Xanxus managed, before nine generations' worth of Vongola-caused suffering came crashing down on him.

When he came back to himself, he had screamed himself raw, and one of the Cervello was stooping over him to strip the Sky Ring off of his hand. "The rings have rejected Xanxus' blood," she announced. "The winner of the Sky Ring battle has defaulted to Sawada Tsunayoshi."

That sparked protests all around, from Bel's squawk to Sawada's Sun proclaiming his confusion. "How can it reject his blood? Isn't he the Ninth's son?"

Laughing hurt. Xanxus did it anyway, and forced himself to his feet, because he wasn't by damn going to do this lying on the ground like a fucking worm. "Told you all you didn't know shit," he wheezed, and spat the blood out of his mouth. "I'm not the old man's son. Never have been." He laughed again, laughed at all of their stupid, shocked faces. "And you're surprised it rejected me?"

"No." That was Sawada, swaying on his own feet, speaking up before anyone else could. "That's not it at all, is it? That's just what you want us all to think." He took a wobbling step away from his companions, towards Xanxus. "I understand, now," he said, eyes and voice clear. "What the Ninth showed me."

Bel took a step, and stopped when Xanxus growled at him. "Bullshit," he told Sawada. "What can a brat like you understand?"

"Everything," Sawada said, confident, closing the distance between them, step by shaky step. "You didn't betray the Ninth at all, did you? You're not here because you wanted to be the Tenth. You're here because he sent you here."

Xanxus coughed and spat on the ground between them. "Not bad," he said, and ignored the shock and disbelief from the Cervello and Varia and Sawada's own people. "No other way to make sure a brat like you was ready to take over for him."

Sawada came closer, till he was tilting his head back to look up at Xanxus. "No," he agreed, still in the grip of that clear, steady calm. "I'm much stronger now, thanks to you."

"Damn right," Xanxus told him, with the grim satisfaction of a job well done. "Would've killed you myself if you hadn't gotten stronger. Might still do it if you fuck this up."

"I know." That clear gaze was starting to be unnerving. "You love this Family very much."

"The hell you say." Xanxus rolled his eyes. "What are you, brain-damaged? I was following orders."

"That's what you want to think. That's what you want to believe. But you're wrong. I felt it." Sawada frowned, lifting a hand. "It's still there. It's covered over," he murmured, and even though he looked like he was half-dead on his feet, his Flame lit again. "It shouldn't be," he murmured. "You're only hurting yourself with it."

"Mind your own business," Xanxus told him. "Maybe I like it better this way."

"No," Sawada said, very softly. "No, I see now, what else he meant."

"Sawada," Xanxus said, warning him, but Sawada ignored him and came forward anyway, pressing his hands against Xanxus' chest.

"You've given a great deal," he said, Will pressing against Xanxus', the raw heat of it gentled enough that it didn't burn. It was no less determined for that. "You are owed this."

"Fuck off," Xanxus grated out, resisting the pressure and warmth of Sawada's Flame. "I don't want this." Not again. He wasn't going to survive another round of this.

"You're still lying," Sawada told him, unshakable as a mountain, and folded his Will around Xanxus and held him.

Xanxus lost the rest of his voice on the cry that tore out of his throat as Sawada's Will pressed against the places he'd walled off years ago, after the first of the old man's sons had died. "These are hurting you," Sawada said, softly, Flame burning hotter, purer. "He would not have wanted this."

"How the fuck would you know?" Xanxus gasped, hating the parts of himself that strained towards Sawada's Will, responding to it. "You weren't fucking there."

"I just know," Sawada told him, simple as that, and brought the walls the rest of the way down.

As his knees bucked and he went down for the third time that night, overcome by the torrent of things that he'd wanted to never have to think about again, Xanxus decided that, fuck it all, this time he was going to stay down.

When he woke up, he was in a pleasant room that was filled with sunlight, and the old man was sitting beside his bed, doing paperwork.

The rush of relief—and shock at realizing he was relieved—at seeing the old man doing something so emphatically normal as his paperwork rendered Xanxus' voice into a rasping croak. "You."

The Ninth looked up, and even Xanxus couldn't mistake the look that crossed the old man's face as anything but pleasure. "You're awake," he said, with every evidence of delight.

"No fucking kidding." Xanxus' throat ached with the effort of speaking, and was barely managing a whisper. "You're not dead."

"Hardly." The Ninth smiled. "I told you I'd do just fine."

Yeah, and Xanxus had seen how he'd looked when the kid had sliced the Gola Mosca open. "You were—I saw you." It'd been clear, too, when he'd had the ring. "With the other bosses."

The old man fucking smiled at him. "One doesn't have to be dead to attend the trial of one's successor, even if it often ends up that way."

"You shitty old man." Xanxus looked away from him, stared out the window—the sky was the deep blue of the Mediterranean; they were home. And even focusing on that fact couldn't stop him from saying, "You scared the fuck out of me."

He heard the sound that the old man made, surprised and wondering, and then the sound of papers being set aside. "I'm sorry," he said, and set a hand on Xanxus' shoulder. "I didn't... expect it to affect you. Not like that."

"No, you just knew it'd tear me apart from the inside out when they rejected me." The old man had told him as much when they'd discussed what would happen if he had to take up the ring. At the time, it had seemed like an acceptable risk to take.

Now he wasn't so sure. The thought of the trial recalled the burden that they'd placed in front of him, and that brought on a wave of nausea. Xanxus closed his eyes and fought it, and the groan that wanted to come with it, back down. "The fuck did Sawada do to me?"

"Forced you to recall yourself, I believe," the old man said, after a moment. "And asked you to recall that you are, in fact, human."

"I don't think I like it," Xanxus told him, from behind teeth that he had to clench against the nausea and sense of dizzy unbalance. Fucking hell, what was he supposed to do with all this goddamn emotional shit?

"You never have, much," the old man agreed. His hand moved to Xanxus' forehead and rested there, cool. "I find myself hoping that it sticks, I'm afraid. I should like very much if I could have one of my sons returned to me."

Xanxus squeezed his eyes tighter, so he wouldn't have to look at the man. "I'm not your son."

"Not by blood," the old man agreed, voice quiet. "Not by the measures of the world. But you're the son my heart recognizes. You're the brother Federico claimed for himself. Those are enough for me." He sighed. "I wish they could be enough for you."

Xanxus turned his face away at the mention of Federico and all the things that the mention of his name brought surging out of the places he'd buried them. The old man's hand settled on his shoulder again. "Fuck," he said, when he could breathe past the knife edges of the hurt. "Fuck. I should have been there. It should have been me."

What the fuck had Sawada done to him, that he was saying these things out loud?

The old man's hand clamped down on his shoulder. "No," he said, fierce. "No. He would not have wanted that, any more than I would have." His grip eased again. "You've seen the reports. The presence of one more man—even one such as yourself—would not have saved him. I would have lost both of you if you had been there." He stopped, and then started again. "As it was, I rather thought I had."

"You always were sentimental, old man," Xanxus muttered after a moment.

"Perhaps," the Ninth said, and squeezed his shoulder. "Nevertheless."

Nevertheless, indeed. Xanxus took a breath, and another, and decided it was time for a safer subject, until he could gain some control of himself again. "Sawada has the ring now?" he asked, and opened his eyes.

"He does, and has found it in himself to face what that means." The Ninth was looking into the distance and probably not seeing anything that was in the room. "He will do great things for our Family, I think."

"Kick his ass for him if he doesn't."

The old man's eyes returned to the present and flicked down to him, and he laughed. "Yes, I've not doubt that you will."

Xanxus snorted at him. "Glad you approve of the choice."

"I do." The Ninth went serious on him again, looking at him with dark eyes. "I would have approved the other, too."

The fuck? "Don't be stupid." Xanxus glared at him. "You saw what happened when I put the ring on."

"Mm. I did." The Ninth lifted a shoulder, as if it weren't even worth mentioning. "The Ring chooses the successor the Family needs. And sometimes what the Family needs is a new direction, like what I expect Tsuna will give us, and sometimes it needs the strength that will guide it and protect it, as you would have done." He stopped, studying Xanxus, and then continued, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw. "What was rejected was the coldness in your heart. We are a Family, my boy. The boss must care for it. Do you see?"

Xanxus listened to that—the boss had to care?—and then snorted. "Definitely made the right choice," he muttered.

The old man's smile was faint. "Mm. He's done well with his people so far."

It was impossible to mistake the old man's intent, not when the old man was looking at him, practically mooning over him. Xanxus grunted. "Whatever. I guess he'll do."

"Yes," the Ninth said, with the smile that all three of his sons had inherited, and that made Xanxus' breath hitch to see. "I think he will." He took his hand away from Xanxus' shoulder and busied himself with his paperwork. "Now that you're awake, there's someone who'll be wanting to see you. I'll just send him in, shall I?"

"Whatever," Xanxus muttered, and settled back against his pillow as the old man went out. It'd be one of the Varia, wanting to report their status—Bel, probably, wanting to talk about who was going to take Squalo's place, since he had exactly the right kind of initiative to put himself forward in a time of chaos. Of course, he trusted Bel about as far as he could throw the little shit, but it wasn't like he had a lot of options to work with in the other squad leaders.

Damn Squalo for getting himself killed, anyway, and that thought came with another wave of sickness—damn Sawada and his fucking Will, too, because this was already getting fucking impossible to stand.

Xanxus gritted his teeth and was trying to ride it out when a ruckus raised itself outside his door. The distraction was a welcome one, and he raised himself up on an elbow to listen to the voices as they spiraled upwards, until someone yelled, "I can fucking do it myself!" and booted open the door.

Squalo wheeled himself into the room, expression mutinously clear even through a layer of bandages, while a handful of the lowest-ranking Varia hovered behind him. "See?" he demanded of them. "Now piss off!" Xanxus stared at him, at a loss for words, as Squalo slammed the door in their faces and wheeled himself over to the bed. "Hey, Boss."

It was as bad as waking up and finding out the old man wasn't dead; the shock made him dizzy. "Squalo," Xanxus said, feeling like he had a case of fucking whiplash. "The fuck. You're not dead."

Squalo snorted. "Fucking Cavallone fished me out before the shark finished me off. Guess he thought he'd be able to get me to spill my guts to him for doing it."

"That little bastard," Xanxus managed, after a moment, some of his whipsaw dizziness grounding itself in familiar anger. "He never said a word." And it went without saying that Squalo hadn't, either, or else he'd have known about this a lot sooner when Cavallone spilled the plan wide open.

Squalo snorted again, baring his teeth. "Yeah. You shoulda seen the look on his face when it all came out. Turned so red I thought he was going to pass out."

"Serves him right," Xanxus said, because it did. Goddamn Cavallone, keeping one of his people from him like that. "Bastard. I thought you were dead." Fuck, he was going to kill Sawada for afflicting him with this case of verbal diarrhea.

Squalo's surprise showed in his eyes, and that only briefly. "Not yet," he said, after a breath of silence. "Which is a damn good thing, since Bel's already started making a hash of Varia business. Gonna take forfuckingever to get it all straightened out."

That was so close to what Xanxus had been thinking before Squalo had come in that it startled him into a laugh; once he started, he couldn't quite stop, till Squalo peered at him, clearly anxious, and demanded to know whether he was all right. "Yeah," Xanxus told him, when he'd managed to get a grip on himself again. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just glad you're not dead, is all."

Squalo blinked, clearly startled, something like pleasure flashing in his eyes. "Yeah, well, me too," he said, and cleared his throat. "So, anyway, here's where we're at."

Xanxus settled in to listen to Squalo's report. He could just about imagine the way Federico would have smiled at that, and said, "Not bad, cub." For once, the thought didn't do much more than ache.

Yeah. Maybe he was going to do all right after all.

- end -

Three Things that Might Have Happened to Xanxus

A spin-off from Lys ap Adin's AU "Five Things that Never Happened to Xanxus" (read that first). What if Federico had lived and Squalo's duel with Tyr had happened on schedule? What would happen then? And how would Tsuna come into it? Drama with Occasional Romance, I-4

Many Roads

Promotion, in the Varia, happened for all kinds of reasons: when a squad leader decided it was about time, when the person wanting promotion decided it was about time, when the Boss needed another squad leader, in the field when someone had to take charge, for political or family influence though those didn't usually survive very long. It all usually worked out, on way or another. The question of who would lead the Varia, though, wasn't left up to anyone but the one who led already and the one who wanted to.

"Watch him," Tyr had murmured as he passed Xanxus on his way to the open, tree-fenced practice ground the Varia kept. So he was watching, standing off to the side with folded arms while his commander and some scrappy silver haired punk with a sword went at it.

He had to admit, the kid was good; he'd trained with Tyr often enough himself to know he wasn't holding back, and it had been hours and the kid was still standing. They pressed each other back and forth and, as the hours ran on and the sunlight slanted down into dark, they did things Xanxus had never seen, moves that looked like they belonged to a wrestling match, moves made for a spear or a lead pipe, moves that he almost couldn't follow, that took such subtle advantage of the shape of their swords there were probably books written about how and why it worked.

They didn't stop when the sun went down.

They didn't stop when it came up.

They stopped at midday, but only because they'd both passed out from exhaustion, and only to start again when they could stand.

They stopped when Squalo lost a hand, but only long enough for him to back off and tie the stump off with vicious force, before he charged in again.

They stopped for good when Tyr finally fell.

Xanxus ran a disgusted hand through his hair. "Fantastic," he muttered to himself. "Watch him, yeah, right. Fuck you, boss." He could feel eyes on him, feel the watchers waiting to see what the second in command would do. He pushed away from the brick wall he'd leaned against and walked forward until he faced Squalo over Tyr's body. Silence spread out, the murmurs of the watchers dying away again. He stared at the kid and the kid stared back, eyes dark and dilated. Squalo didn't speak, and Xanxus wondered if that was just exhaustion or there was more going on here that Tyr had wanted him to see.

"Fucked if I'm gonna be led by a brat like you," Xanxus said, finally, and another murmur swept around them.

The kid didn't even blink. "Fight me, then."

Xanxus glanced down at Tyr and back up, eyes raking over Squalo, who was swaying on his feet, blood still dripping from the end of his arm. He snorted and turned away toward the watching crowd. "Don't just stand there! Take him to the hospital, dump some blood back into him, and some fucking food while you're at it. Tomorrow," he added, looking back at Squalo, who had his mouth open, glaring even as bled-out and flattened as he was.

Squalo snapped his mouth shut and grinned. "Tomorrow."

The kid left on his own feet and Xanxus glared down at Tyr's body. "Hope you're fucking amused," he muttered, leaning down to straighten Tyr's limbs. The other squad leaders came forward and he flipped the commander's badge at one of them. "Hold onto this."

He and Squalo met the next afternoon, on the same field.

Squalo focused on him the same way he'd focused on Tyr and Xanxus wondered briefly if he was like that in all his fights, and whether this actually had anything at all to do with who led the Varia. There was a way to tell, now he thought of it. He locked eyes with the kid, lifted one of his guns and fired just to the side of Squalo. A swath of trees blew away into splinters.

The kid glanced at the destruction and turned back to Xanxus, eyes hot, teeth bared. "Fight me," he said again, low and eager.

Yeah, maybe this wasn't about who led, not for Squalo. Xanxus shrugged. "Fine." He beckoned sharply with the barrel of the gun and Squalo came in on him, poised and taut. Xanxus caught the sword on the metal of the gun and kicked out, watching as Squalo twisted aside. It took three exchanges for him to decide he'd better go all out. Even half dead from the fight with Tyr, Squalo was damn good. Besides, it would be no kind of win if the kid passed out again.

And it had been a while since he'd been able to take all the brakes off.

Squalo made a husky sound the next time they closed, and his movement turned sharper, faster, like he was reflecting Xanxus or pulled along somehow. It was weird, a distant corner of Xanxus' mind observed; Squalo was focused on him like a fucking laser but he also seemed, as Xanxus smashed aside a thrust, almost distracted by something. And Xanxus was positive now, shooting out Squalo's footing to stop a lunge, that he was fighting to fight, not to lead. That would, he decided as he ducked a tearing cut, make for a good Varia member. It made for a good fight, and in the end Xanxus was bleeding from a dozen slashes, limping from two of them, head ringing from one damn vicious hilt strike. But he was still the one standing and one of his guns was pressed to Squalo's forehead. Squalo looked up at him, eyes as wide and dark as they'd been yesterday, before he closed them, waiting.

There was no fear in them, though.

Xanxus thought about that and nodded and caught Squalo a good crack across the side of the head with the butt. Squalo went down in a heap and Xanxus turned to look at the medic who'd brought Squalo from the hospital. "Take him back."

"Damn straight," the man muttered, marching onto the field to collect Squalo, mouth set in a disapproving line. Xanxus snorted, amused for a moment when he thought about how someone like Squalo probably reacted to being told to take it easy. "Well?" he added, hands on his hips, looking around at the witnesses.

The senior squad leader tossed him the commander's badge. "We're good."

Xanxus eyed the bit of metal with little favor. "All right. I'll tell the Ninth, then." He limped over and grabbed a roll of gauze from the medic before he left, winding it tight around his thigh. He swore under his breath all the way to the Ninth's office, and not because of the pain. "Watch him," he growled to himself, as he reached the door. "You could have just said 'tame him, but don't kill him'. You could have just said 'ready or not, sucker'." He respected his commander... his ex-commander. But sometimes he really wondered about Tyr's sense of humor.

The old man looked up and smiled to see him, but sighed. Xanxus ran that through his "sentimental old bastard" filter and snorted. "Kid's still alive. I'm not going to kill a member that valuable just because he hasn't got the sense god gave a fucking duckling."

Federico, leaning over the Ninth's shoulder to read whatever it was they were looking at laughed. "Sounds like he's a good match for you."

Xanxus gave him a dire look, which had no effect at all. He was used to that, but it still pissed him off.

"Tyr told me it would be you who led after him, whichever way this went," the Ninth sighed and beckoned Xanxus over. "Come. There's a job we may need the Varia for within the next month."

The little metal badge suddenly felt like it weighed a lot more. Xanxus wondered if this was how Federico felt all the time, these days, and glanced over at him, curious. The wry smile he got made him think it probably was.

"Yes, Boss," Xanxus answered and came to stand at Federico's shoulder.

The World on its Side

Federico liked to use one of the sitting rooms for most of his talks with Family members, but when a killing needed to be planned, he preferred his office. It reminded him to stay focused on business and not sidetrack or delay the inevitable.

"All right." Squalo pushed back his chair and stood. "I'll get my squad ready." He waited for Xanxus' nod before actually leaving and Federico stifled yet another chuckle. Xanxus paused in rising and eyed him.

"What? You've been smirking a lot lately."

"Oh, it's just Squalo." Federico shook his head at the door.

Xanxus frowned. "I know he's young to be a squad leader, but hell so was I..."

Federico waved a hand. "No, no. Not that. It's just his crush on you."

Xanxus stared. "You're shitting me," he said finally.

"Not at all." Federico cocked his head. "Xanxus. Did you really miss it?"

"He just likes people who can fight!" Xanxus protested.

"Well, yes. That was kind of my point." Xanxus bridled at the heavy patience of Federico's tone and he laughed, pushing himself up out of his chair. "You'd think you would recognize it."

Xanxus glared death at him and Federico snorted, reaching out to close a hand around his nape. "It looks awfully familiar from here," he murmured, grip tightening as Xanxus stilled under his hand.

"Boss..." When Federico tugged, Xanxus came to him, mouth opening under Federico's. Federico leaned back against the desk and pulled Xanxus against him so he could kiss him properly—properly being until he was breathless and flushed, hands fisted on the back of Federico's jacket.

"You're mine," Federico said quietly, catching Xanxus' gasp at the words in another kiss. "You always will be. But it would be good for you to have people of your own, too."

It took Xanxus a minute to gather words, and they came out husky, but he finally managed. "Boss, are you really trying to get me to screw my second in command who's seven goddamn years younger than me?"

"What?" Federico grinned. "Look at who I'm screwing."

Xanxus was starting to glare again so Federico pulled him back for another kiss. "Just think about it," he murmured into Xanxus' mouth.

He got a wordless sound of agreement this time, and yes it was probably cheating but Xanxus had always required unusual measures.

Xanxus went about his duties feeling distracted for a few months.

Federico had to be seeing things. Squalo was... well, he was Squalo. He was Xanxus' second, the one who did the personnel stuff.

"Did that look like an attack to you?!" Squalo's voice echoed off the walls of the training hall. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, walking in the park?!"

He bitched out subordinates and opponents at the top of his lungs, louder than a man his size should be able to; even if four years had given him height he was still pretty damn scrawny. He was more determined than any two other Varia members. He trained and fought like he didn't care if he died. If Squalo was in love with anything it was his damn sword.

Xanxus couldn't deny, though, that, now he was watching for it, he kept finding Squalo watching him. Across the practice grounds. Sidelong, when Xanxus couldn't avoid the paperwork in his official office any longer. After jobs.

Okay, all the Varia watched him, then, but Squalo didn't watch him like he was wondering whether this would be the time Xanxus forgot which ones his allies were. Squalo watched him like... like...

Federico had to be seeing things.

Squalo strode over and leaned against the wall beside him with a thump. "Swear to God, half of them don't know which end the bullet comes out of."

Xanxus grunted. Squalo didn't have any patience with less than perfection, or at least "really fucking good". It was one of the things Xanxus liked about him.

Not liked liked, just liked, damn it. There was no reason for him to even have had to think that. He shoved away from the wall with a growl. "Spar with me."

Squalo's teeth showed as he grinned. "Sure thing, boss."

The other members scattered out of their way, and scattered further when Xanxus shot out one of the windows and part of the wall around it. That was fine; it would do them good to get used to keeping out of the way when one of the top members cut loose.

Squalo was laughing.

They went for over an hour and it didn't end until Xanxus got Squalo down, kneeling on his sword arm, one gun pressed firmly under his jaw. Squalo lifted his chin, looking up at him, just waiting. Varia didn't yield.

After a long breath Xanxus let him go and they both hauled themselves upright. "Not bad."

"You too." The quirk of Squalo's mouth wasn't nearly as insolent as his words, and he gave Xanxus a measuring look. "Feel better?"

Xanxus blinked at him, startled.

Squalo nodded, for no reason Xanxus could see. "Yeah, looks like it. Good." He stretched, lean and casual as an alley cat, and lifted a hand. "See you tomorrow, boss."

Maybe, it occurred to Xanxus as he watched Squalo go, Squalo had been watching him closer than he'd realized.

The Varia slid through the Scioneri perimeter like a knife, heading for the main House through the heavy dark of three in the morning. Xanxus watched ahead, poised. If they had to get loud about this job, they would, but it would serve the Varia's reputation better if some of the foot soldiers were left around the edges.

When they reached the walls they scattered.

Squalo was watching the last of his squad go, frowning a little at the audible click of the latch as they went through one of the windows, and Xanxus stifled a snort. Some day he'd decide whether Squalo was just a perfectionist of if he really was a control freak too. He set a hand on Squalo's shoulder to pull his attention back. They were supposed to take the door themselves.

Squalo's head snapped around and a shiver ran through him.

Xanxus paused. Squalo's eyes were wide and dark in the faint house lights, and Xanxus swore he recognized Squalo's expression though he couldn't put a word to it. That would wait, though; they had a job to do now. He jerked his head for Squalo to follow him and his second nodded silently.

The focus of the job didn't ease until they were out and nearly back to their headquarters, and when it did he frowned, scrubbing absently at his sleeve with a scrap of towel. Good thing someone way back had decided the Varia would wear leather, or the dry cleaner's bills would break even the Vongola bank. What had that expression been? Where did he know it from?

"...looks awfully familiar from here..."

Xanxus stared blankly out the car's window. Federico had said that. He'd said that while he held Xanxus, the way he'd always damn well been able to.

The thought threw him completely out of the game, and he barely got through his report on the job without either hauling off and punching Federico for putting the idea in his head or turning to ask Squalo what the hell he was thinking. Once they were safely back into their own halls, Xanxus leaned against the wall and shook his head vigorously; it didn't knock anything loose, unfortunately.

"Boss?"

Squalo was looking at him curiously, no sign of that earlier flash of awareness or want or insanity or whatever the hell it was. Now Xanxus was wondering if he was seeing things.

Well there was one way to be damn well sure.

Xanxus reached out and curled a hand around the back of Squalo's neck, sliding it up into the thick softness of his hair.

Squalo went very still, even his breath stopping, except for the tiny shiver Xanxus could feel under his hand. That look was back and, yeah, it was definitely want. Xanxus did recognize it, and damn Federico for being right. Because, recognizing it, he had to do something about it.

"Boss," Squalo said, low and husky.

"Come here," he said, quietly, tugging Squalo closer, feeling how readily Squalo came to him. When he caught Squalo's mouth it opened under his and after a moment of hesitation Squalo leaned into him, kissing back just as sharp and intent as he did everything else. That made heat curl low in Xanxus' stomach. When he finally let go they were both breathing harder, and this time he recognized the look in Squalo's eyes right away. The first time he'd seen it was over Tyr's body. "Do you really fall in love with your opponents?" he asked after a considering moment.

"The good ones." Squalo didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about. "Doesn't last very often."

"Maybe because you kill most of those."

"I couldn't kill you, though." Squalo's thin, hard body eased against him a little more, and he grinned. "Still couldn't."

"And you like that," Xanxus guessed.

The heat in Squalo's eyes was open this time. "I like the reason why."

Xanxus' mouth quirked. He supposed he could relate to that.

He pulled Squalo tighter against him and kissed him again.

Atavus

The bulletproof glass of the mansion's windows turned the sunlight hazy and white and scattered it through the office where three men sat.

Reborn settled back in his chair and crossed his ankles on the cushion. "So. You wanted to see me?" A glance around the Tenth's office showed that it was serious, whatever it was. Iemitsu was here, too. Was there internal trouble in the Family?

"Yes." Federico folded his hands and leaned his chin on them. "Iemitsu, tell me. Would you be willing to have your son serve the Vongola?"

"Tsuna?" Iemitsu actually blinked. "I... hadn't thought of it yet, to be honest."

"Think of it now," Federico directed quietly. "The Cetrulli killed both Enrico and Massimo. Even I barely got out of that ambush alive. Even if I let the Varia come out of the shadows, we're under strength now. Your son's heritage could be a great asset during a time of need."

"It isn't that I would object if he chose to serve or if the Family needed him." Iemitsu rubbed the back of his head looking helpless, not a usual expression for him. "It's just... well, Nana's letters... you see, I think he has the potential, he just hasn't, um, expressed it yet."

In other words, Reborn translated to himself, the kid was a limp noodle. A normal kid, in fact.

"Just as well I asked Reborn to sit in, then." Federico grinned a bit and tilted his head at Reborn. "What do you think? I wanted you to evaluate the boy anyway; if he has any promise, do you think you could bring it out?"

Reborn sniffed. "I straightened out Dino, didn't I?"

"You did that." Federico leaned back in his chair. "Iemitsu? Are you willing to have this go forward?"

Iemitsu bowed his head formally. "If the Family has need, we will answer it."

Federico was still smiling as he looked back at Reborn, but his eyes were serious. "Do it."

Federico had been waiting for the call and picked up quickly when he saw who it was. "Reborn? How is it going?"

"The boy is pathetic. Absolutely hopeless." Reborn's voice was flat, and not just with the distance. There was no one else in the office right then so Federico let himself slump in his chair. Damn it, this had been his best hope... "So I'm going to need your permission to take some extra measures," Reborn went on and Federico nearly swore at him for that scare. It wouldn't do any good, though, Reborn was Reborn and he did things his own way.

"Go on."

"Tsuna won't find his strength on his own behalf." Federico swore he could hear Reborn's tiny smile. "He reminds me a bit of the Ninth that way. So I'm going to need to recruit some more members, people who will bond with him and who he can fight for."

"A Family of his own?" Federico's brows rose as he turned his chair to looked out the tall window.

"A starter set. There are a few possibilities I can see here, but someone from the mafia itself would be wise to add. How do you feel about Gokudera Hayato?"

"The Smoking Bomb?" Federico murmured after a moment's thought. "I think he reminds me a bit of Xanxus as a boy, actually."

"And if he could be tamed similarly?"

"You know, Reborn," Federico drawled thoughtfully, "this is sounding less and less like you really think Tsunayoshi is pathetic."

"He is most definitely pathetic at the moment. That's why I'm here, after all."

Federico laughed. "All right. New members that you've chosen can only be an asset. Go ahead."

Federico tapped his finger waiting for the call to go through. This was not good news he had today. "Reborn?" he snapped as soon as the click came at the other end. "Keep an eye out around you. Rokudou Mukuro escaped from the Vendicare and we think he's gone to Japan."

"Hm. That could explain what's been happening." Reborn merely sounded thoughtful but Federico's tightening grip made the phone creak.

"What has been happening?" he asked flatly.

"A handful of the kids Tsuna's age have been attacked. It's gone in ascending order of strength according to Fuuta's rankings." Reborn sniffed. "They're probably trying to smoke out Tsuna himself, but they obviously know nothing about him."

Federico took a breath and pulled the cold of business down over his flare of worry. "Searching for him to use against Iemitsu? Or a general strike against Vongola, trying to whittle down our strength from the edges?"

"I don't know yet. I'll find out, though."

"All right. Keep Tsunayoshi away from them." Reborn made a slightly worrying sound and Federico frowned. "Reborn?" he asked, a bit warily.

"This could be a good opportunity," Reborn mused. "Some of those struck already have been Tsuna's new Family. He'll fight to protect them, and this might finally bring out his true potential."

After a long moment, Federico sighed. "You do what will serve the Family. Very well. I'll write the order."

Which he did, at once, and sent it. All the more time to contemplate how poorly he was likely to sleep that night.

"I didn't expect a trip back in person just to report on the Rokudou affair." Federico eyed Reborn narrowly. "So suppose you tell me what this is about."

Reborn had his hat tipped down, today, which he only did when he was troubled or angry. Not good signs. "I was right," he said quietly. "Mukuro was exactly what Tsuna needed to touch his true strength. He's only shown the start of it, and I have to tell you: he might be dangerous."

Xanxus straightened from where he'd been leaning in the window, behind Federico's chair. Federico kept his eyes on Reborn. "Dangerous how?"

Finally Reborn looked up, eyes deep and shuttered. "If he keeps developing he may well become stronger than you."

Federico sat back, startled. "You're serious?" With no false modesty, he knew his fighting skills were sharp and his Flame one of the more powerful among the Vongola bosses.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi is a throwback," Reborn said flatly. "The weapon Leon produced for him was gloves. He even looks like the First. Even this young and untried, his Flame is powerful; he didn't just defeat Mukuro, he subdued him and cleansed his aura."

"And you think he might challenge me?" Federico frowned.

Reborn's mouth tightened and he tugged down his hat brim again. "It depends."

Federico waited.

"I said, at the start, that he reminds me of the Ninth. He's reminding me more and more of the First, too. And, like both of them, Tsuna is an idealist. He'll do anything to protect his people—anything at all. If he binds himself to the Vongola and ever believes that the path you choose is going to harm the Family, then yes. He will challenge you." Quietly, Reborn ended, "And if he keeps growing at this rate, he might win."

Xanxus snorted. "So that's why you wanted me to hear this. Fine. He can't be too hard to take care of yet."

Federico sighed, leaning his head back against his chair. "It would be the safest way, I suppose. By one calculation at least. But the Vongola need strong members; that hasn't changed." His mouth quirked a bit, ruefully. "And I was the one who called on Tsunayoshi. I'm responsible for this."

"You're the Tenth," Xanxus shot back, inflexible. "We can't tolerate a threat to you."

"He isn't a threat yet, though." He smiled up at his wolf as Xanxus growled in annoyance. "And even if he does grow stronger than me... Reborn says he will only challenge me to protect the Family. That's not a threat. That's a test of faith." He straightened, feeling his father's support behind him. "I won't turn aside from it."

Reborn was smiling.

After a long moment, glaring, Xanxus crossed his arms. "I want to see him for myself, then."

Federico cocked an eyebrow at Reborn, whose smile had gotten wider and picked up a cheery edge; yes, he'd thought so. "I suppose that could be another useful test for him, hm?" Federico observed dryly.

"It could." Reborn hopped down from his chair. "I'll ask Iemitsu to finalize his choices of Tsuna's Family. Be sure you bring along enough of the Varia to test them, too."

Xanxus gave him an incredulous look. "The Varia? For a pack of brats?"

"Rokudou Mukuro," Reborn reminded him, and Xanxus rolled his eyes.

"Okay, okay, fine, whatever." He slouched back in the window, looking like he was trying to think of swearwords sulfurous enough.

Federico shook his head. "You know, I think I'm glad Dad never needed to ask you to tutor me."

"It's for his own good," Reborn said piously.

Federico snorted. "Like I said."

Reborn watched the last battle quietly, marking Tsuna's progress. His student had done well, as was only to be expected under the circumstances. Xanxus made a very credible threat, and when he'd told Tsuna that if Tsuna didn't prove good enough for the Vongola Xanxus would kill him and everyone near him, Tsuna had clearly believed it.

Xanxus was practically the walking embodiment of extreme prejudice, after all.

"You don't think he'll really kill Tsuna, will he?" Dino murmured, worried, and Reborn stifled a flash of amusement. Case in point.

"I doubt it." He'd be sure of it if Tsuna hadn't started to intuit the First's techniques. If Xanxus knew that Tsuna had mastered a technique made to contain another wielder of the Dying Will Flame, he might just have an "accident" and shoot Tsuna five times in the back to be sure of him. Xanxus had no tolerance for threats to Federico. Fortunately, Tsuna hadn't fully grasped it and Reborn had kept his silence on the nature of the Zero Point. It was for Tsuna's own good, really.

Xanxus' rapid fire flashed and died around Tsuna, leaving him standing, if smoking.

The variation that Tsuna had found for himself, half finished as it was, had given Tsuna time to make another leap forward. All was going well, by Reborn's lights.

Tsuna was blasted through a wall and Reborn tsked.

"Never thought you'd use the actual Cervello for this," Colonello muttered beside him, as they watched the last of Tsuna's little Family reclaim the last puzzle seal to unlock the antidote in Chrome's wrist band.

"The Tenth thought it would be wise to have outside arbiters. You know what Xanxus is like when he's in the middle of a fight."

They watched Xanxus and Tsuna pile into each other, burning, Xanxus' teeth bared as though he'd as soon bite Tsuna's throat out.

"Yeah, but the Cervello nearly poisoned them," Colonello pointed out.

"They have a point. The Family is everything, to the Vongola. If these boys can't come together and support each other in life and death, they aren't worthy of the Vongola. And if they're not, we can't just leave them knowing so much about us."

"Reborn!" Dino sounded disapproving, but Squalo laughed until he coughed and hunched over in his wheelchair.

"It's no wonder the boss likes you," he wheezed.

Reborn raised a brow; this was the first he'd heard of Xanxus liking him. But the battle above them fixed his attention, because Tsuna and Xanxus were both gathering their Flame, preparing what looked like one last strike against each other. He pulled his hat down to shade his eyes from the glare and waited, watching the screen, to see who was still standing after that.

In the clearing smoke and dust, they both stood, both swaying on their feet. But it was Xanxus who stumbled to his knees first.

"So. Are you satisfied now?"

Everyone started at the voice through the speakers, and the figure that stood at the edge of the crater Tsuna and Xanxus had made.

"Tenth," Reborn murmured. He had wondered whether Federico would be content with a second hand report, actually, but he hadn't quite expected this.

"Federico-sama!" For the first time, he saw a Cervello flustered, one hand pressed to her ear as she whispered with her compatriots and finally fumbled with the deactivator on the spectator's cage. "The Tenth has taken over the judgment of the battle," she announced unnecessarily.

"Boss?" Xanxus muttered, sounding a little dazed. Everyone piled around the buildings, Squalo snarling as he wrested his wheelchair out of Dino's control and made for his boss, in time to see Xanxus raise his head, eyes widening. "Boss?!" He surged to his feet, staggering. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

"I came to see if you were satisfied," Federico said in a perfectly reasonable tone.

Xanxus slashed a hand down and staggered a few more steps when it overbalanced him. "Don't give me that! You're in fucking Japan with no fucking bodyguards for fuck's sake!"

Federico's mouth twitched. "You're backsliding, there, you know. I thought I taught you to swear more creatively than that."

"Goddamn it, Boss!"

Tsuna's group gathered together, Tsuna leaning on Gokudera and Yamamoto, and watched wide-eyed. "Um. That's the Tenth?" Tsuna asked Reborn as he stopped beside them.

"Yes."

"And, um. Xanxus is... he's..."

"He's a bit of a mother hen about the Tenth, these days," Dino filled in easily, coming to join them with a smile. Reborn noted that he didn't say it loud enough for Xanxus to hear and nodded, satisfied that he didn't have any stupid students.

Tsuna's eyes crossed a little as he contemplated Xanxus as a mother hen. Xanxus was still yelling.

"...wouldn't let me destroy the fucking Cetrulli, so you can't just fucking waltz around the goddamn world like you're taking a cruise vacation, and—!"

"Xanxus." Federico met Xanxus' furious gaze, cool and unyielding, and Xanxus bit back the rest of his outrage, mouth pressed into a tight line. "I asked you a question. Answer me."

It obviously took Xanxus a moment to remember what it had been, and when he did he snorted. "Am I satisfied?" He turned his glare on Tsuna, who met it steadily even through his increasing puzzlement. After a long moment, Xanxus muttered, "He won't betray anything, I'll say that."

"Then the rest is my business to look after." Federico clasped Xanxus' shoulder and shook him gently. "Right?"

After a taut hesitation, Xanxus breathed out and bent his head. "Yes, Boss."

Federico smiled, hand tightening for a moment, before he left Xanxus to his gathered squad leaders and turned to Tsuna, walking across the gouged, uneven ground as if it were his own reception hall. Tsuna's people straightened a little, watching him come, and Reborn nodded to himself.

"Tsunayoshi." Federico addressed them evenly, not rejecting and not welcoming. "You've seen some of what our world is like. It's a harsh, dangerous place with many bad choices in it. I wouldn't ask anyone to join us lightly, but the Family has need of you so I'll ask you to make a choice now. Will you serve us? Lend your strength to the Vongola? Protect the Family?"

Reborn hid a moment of surprise under his hat and heard Xanxus' growl behind him. Federico would let them go, even now?

Tsuna stepped forward, hesitantly, looking up at this man he'd never met before. "I... I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think I understand the Vongola, really." A faint, flashing smile tugged at his mouth. "Reborn doesn't really explain things like that very well."

Well of course not, no explanation would bring understanding. That was what experience and God-given brains were for, provided a student could be induced to use the latter. Reborn returned Federico's raised brow with a blank look.

"I see." Federico tipped his head, considering Tsuna and his people and the battlefield around them, and finally smiled. He gestured at the Varia, carelessly fierce and arrogant in their strength, gathered around their leader as Xanxus rested a quieting hand on Squalo's shoulder and listened. "That is the Vongola." He waved at Dino, hovering by Tsuna's people and giving orders into his phone in a low voice. "And that is the Vongola." He opened a hand at Tsuna's group and finished quietly. "And this is the Vongola."

Tsuna's eyes opened wide, and Reborn saw the change in them he'd seen a few times before, the look both distant and immediate that meant Tsuna's intuition had perceived and understood something. "Oh." Tsuna looked around at his little Family, at Gokudera's unstinting loyalty, at Yamamoto's matter-of-fact support at his back, even at Hibari standing aloof to one side, and back at Federico. "Yes," he said, quietly. "I will."

"Thank you," Federico said, soft and sincere. And then he relaxed and the atmosphere of the entire field lightened. "We'll speak more later. For now, we need to have everyone's injuries seen to."

"We've got it," Dino put in, clicking shut his phone as a small horde of Cavallone descended and started gathering up the wounded.

Reborn stood back, satisfied. "So?" he murmured to Federico, as the man came up beside him.

"Keep going," the Tenth ordered. "We'll need him." He laughed, soft and true. "Maybe I'll even need him, myself, for all that he is. I'll have a matched set. My wolf and my conscience."

Reborn pulled his hat down and smiled. Just because someone wasn't officially his student didn't mean he couldn't see that they learned a few things.

End

A/N: Canon would have it that Squalo is still two years younger than Xanxus after the latter's eight year suspended animation. This would make him fourteen when he defeats Tyr, and I'm sorry but no; I just don't buy it. Given how massively Amano screws with her worldbuilding and timelines, usually out of pure carelessness, I'm just going to say he's sixteen at the time.

Surprised Into Greatness

In the universe where Federico survives, Byakuran is still a problem ten years later. This time, it's someone else who dies to send Tsuna and Xanxus against the Millefiore. Drama with Angst, I-4

Federico sat back in his chair, eyes fixed on the harshly lined face of the man across from him. "I see why you insisted this meeting be so secret," he finally said, mildly.

Irie's tightly clasped hands twitched. "I know it sounds insane," he muttered, but Federico waved that off.

"I hold fire in my hand and it doesn't burn; we're used enough to insane-sounding things, I think. And we've been watching the Millefiori for a while now. Some of my people are very suspicious of coincidence." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "How sure are you that this will work?"

"I'm not sure at all," Irie said, low and harsh. "But this is the only thing that has a chance. Sawada is the only factor that holds Byakuran back in this world, but even he can't do it alone. It has to be both of them."

Fedele stirred at Federico's back, where he'd been listening in what Federico suspected was frozen horror. "Boss, Xanxus will... I mean, he'll..."

Federico winced, thinking about it. "I know. You're sure that bullet won't kill me?" he asked Irie.

Irie nodded silently.

"Good." Federico smiled with no amusement at all. "Xanxus and Tsuna deserve the chance to kill me themselves, afterward, for doing this to them."

Sunlight fell gracefully through stained glass and into the open coffin.

Fedele had known it was going to be hard. It couldn't be any other way when the Vongola's Boss had been killed—not killed, the back of his mind whispered, clinging to that but he couldn't let it show or it would all go for nothing—killed by an ambush no one had seen coming. He had forbidden anyone to tell Federico's wife or son, saying it was for their own safety in hiding, which was true enough. But the fury and pain in the eyes of the other Guardians, the stripped, blank looks on the faces of the two kneeling by Federico's coffin, sliced his heart like a knife.

"It was the Millefiore, wasn't it?" Tsuna said at last, a little sense coming back into his eyes as he looked up at Fedele.

Xanxus' head came up, too, though it wasn't sense that was creeping into his expression.

Fedele took a breath and dropped the last pebble on the poised mountain face. "Yes."

Tsuna nodded and he and Xanxus stood as one, and their people stepped towards them, out of the small crowd of Vongola leaders, drawn into the sudden, silent tension.

"Don't get in my way," Xanxus growled, shreds of brightness already crawling over his clenched hands.

"Don't be stupid," Tsuna cut back, cool and level with the rising of his Will. "We'll go together. Otherwise Byakuran might get away."

Fedele could almost hear the click as those words locked around Xanxus, and he could tell Xanxus felt it too even though he bared his teeth. "Fine. Hurry up, then."

"Wait." Fedele swallowed as both of them turned to stare at him; the weight of their combined focus was like running into a steel wall. "One of you has to take the Ring."

Sandro spun around to stare at him. "Fedele, what the fuck?"

Fedele met the Lightning's outraged look evenly. "Ricco is too young to lead, even if we all support him. Not if we're at war. It has to be one of them. They're the only two with the strength and the right."

Before anyone else could start arguing Xanxus made an impatient sound through his teeth and stooped down to Federico's body again, drawing the Sky Ring off his finger. He straightened to the sound of breath being taken in all through the church.

And threw the Ring at Tsuna.

Tsuna's hand closed around it, though he never looked away from Xanxus. "You're sure?" he asked, low.

"The Boss can't lead the Varia too. We're wasting time. Take the damn Ring and let's go," Xanxus bit out.

After a long, still moment, Tsuna nodded and slid the Ring onto his finger, closing it in a fist. He raised his chin and his Flame flared up in his hand, running over his glove to shape the Vongola crest. That was all Fedele had time to see before the light of Tsuna's Flame turned brilliant, actinic white that etched people's shadows behind them as they flung up hands and arms to shield their eyes.

When the light died and he could look back up, he found Tsuna on his knees, hands braced against the stone of the floor, breathing like he'd just run a marathon. "Anything," Tsuna, whispered, as if he were answering someone's question. "Anything."

"Boss?" Gokudera asked quietly, kneeling beside Tsuna with a hand under his arm.

Tsuna looked up and smiled, wry and serene. "I'm all right."

Fedele took a deep breath as Gokudera got the Vongola's new Boss—sort of the back of his mind pointed out, not helpfully—standing. One more thing to do. "The Vongola Ring has accepted Sawada as the Eleventh," he announced, completely unnecessarily but it was tradition to say it out loud, and pulled the Storm ring off his own finger, holding it out to Gokudera.

"Um. Fedele?" Giancarlo wasn't as loud about it as Sandro, but he managed to convey what the fuck do you think you're doing? just as well.

"The Guardians are the members of the Family closest to the Boss, most trusted to watch his back." Fedele kept his eyes locked on Gokudera's. "We're the Tenth's Guardians, not the Eleventh's." Gokudera's eyes darkened and he nodded slowly and reached out to take the ring.

Giancarlo made a sound like someone had punched him in the gut and Fedele stifled a flinch at the acid rush of guilt. His fellow Guardians were going to pound the shit out of him for this, after, and he was going to deserve it. Giancarlo stepped past him, though, and held the Rain ring out, steadily enough, to Yamamoto.

"Great, fine, now can we go?" Squalo snapped, once the transfer of the Rings was complete. Fedele started to give him an evil look but noticed the way Squalo's eyes flicked toward Xanxus, who was glaring murderously at thin air.

"Someone has to stay and guard the headquarters," Tsuna started, and Fedele lifted his hand a little.

"We'll do that." Guarding the mansion, and Federico's body, would keep his fellows from doing anything too rash, and he saw the knowledge of it in Tsuna's eyes as he nodded.

"Very well. Let's go, then."

Xanxus stalked out immediately, his squad leaders swirling after him like a kite's tail. Tsuna followed, slower, with a word to this or that underboss, a sharp beckoning gesture to Giannini, a hand on Yamamoto's shoulder sending him after Lal Mirch as she started to slip away.

Fedele felt dizzy, head stuffed with what was true and what was apparently true and what might or might not happen. But in the midst of all that he was, at least, grateful that Tsuna seemed to be fit for the role he had to play. Whatever the truth of it wound up being.

Tsuna didn't bother with an office, and certainly didn't even consider taking Federico's; if they came back from this alive he'd think about it then. Besides none of the office rooms were big enough.

Instead he took over the reception hall.

Maps and lists scattered over the tables and the parquetry floor as Gokudera pulled reports together and called in the people who kept observation on the Millefiore headquarters. Some of the reports were written in Chrome's neat hand, and he sent Lambo to find her with a question about the underground entrances. Ryouhei and Squalo argued at the top of their lungs in one corner, pulling the blueprint of the Millefiore main building back and forth between them, stabbing at access points and each other's chests with stiff fingers. People swirled in and out under Xanxus' silent, brooding eye, as he leaned against the wall, and Tsuna could barely remember their names though he knew them all. The world was in freefall and the only thing holding his feet down was the promise he'd given to those who'd come before, in the no-place where they'd judged him. He would do anything it took to protect his Family and his Family's heart.

Lal stalked in, snarling over her shoulder at Yamamoto, and Tsuna wrenched his thoughts onto yet another track. "Lal," he cut through her protest and Yamamoto's inexorable smile, "have any of CEDEF heard from my father yet?"

"No, nothing," she snapped.

Tsuna breathed out, torn between cursing and giving thanks. "Then you'll have to lead them."

She folded her arms, giving him a stony look. "We're not part of the Vongola."

"This is an emergency. You are," he rapped back.

"Besides, where else do you expect to find the one who killed Colonello?" Reborn rolled into the room with a motorized purr and Tsuna's mouth twisted with the mix of affection and relief and pain he'd felt for most of a year.

They hadn't been fast enough for everyone. They hadn't been fast enough to save Verde or Skull. Or Colonello. Even the other arcobaleno didn't know what had become of Fon, and none of them would speak of what had happened to Uni. But they had, at least, understood the non-trinisette radiation in time to save Lal and Mammon from most of it. And to save, at least, Reborn's life.

He had insisted the protective suit be tailored into a proper, black mafia suit, and had only agreed to the wheelchair after Giannini motorized and armed it. But he was still with them, and looking up at Lal with black eyes as unreadable as ever as she whirled on him.

"Who?" she demanded, voice dark and hungry, and for one moment Xanxus glanced over at them.

Reborn shrugged. "Who knows? But we know who's doing this, and we know where they'll be."

"The foot soldiers we take with us will clear the way," Tsuna said, eyes running down yet another list as Gokudera handed it to him. "But we need CEDEF to secure our retreat. Will you do it?"

"I'm not staying in the rear," she said flatly, arms folded.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"Fine." She turned away and stalked out, and Tsuna's mouth quirked up for a moment at the way Yamamoto drew smoothly back out of her path and winked at him before following her. If any of them were sane by the time they left, it would be thanks to Yamamoto, he thought.

"I suppose you're coming too?" he asked Reborn.

"Yes."

No other explanation was forthcoming, and Tsuna hadn't really expected any. He just nodded and turned back to the maps and hoped that Xanxus' version of patience would last as long as he needed it to.

Details ticked through Tsuna's mind, past the eye of his focus, and in the back of his mind one of the voices he was currently ignoring was busy cursing Byakuran for placing his headquarters in a city. "Lal, open up a corridor to the south to get the bystanders out," he snapped into his headset.

"Basil is taking care of it," she snapped back. "You're a fool. We have to have lost surprise by now."

Tsuna's eye measured the fire coming from the buildings that surrounded the headquarters, channeling his people toward that massive, central building. "He knew we were coming already."

A final explosion sheared the front off one of those firing galleries and Gokudera's voice said flatly, "We're clear."

"Then let's go."

Byakuran's front door was locked, the entrance barred by a wall of something that probably wasn't just steel. On the surface it looked like a good tactic, just the place to pin the attackers up against, but... "Xanxus," Tsuna called.

A column of raging Flame licked out over his shoulder and struck the wall, flaring, eating into it, and it was only a breath before it burst.

Tsuna's eyes narrowed, intuition ticking over. "Byakuran has something in mind," he stated. "Keep alert."

The strongest box and ring holders, and their support squads, fanned out to clear the building.

Ryouhei jogged at Lal's shoulder and worried just a little. He wasn't normally one to complain about anyone else's single mindedness, but the darkness in Lal's eyes made his nerves twang. He respected Lal's professionalism, though, and when she stiffened and shouted "Down!" he dove for the floor without hesitation, along with the rest of the squad.

Lal was the only one hit.

"Lal!" He reached for his secondary box.

"Ah~h, just like that the stupid flies walk into my web," a light voice sighed from the darkness of the ceiling. "I expected better from Lal Mirch. Colonello was thinking about you in his last moments, you know. Can't you try to be more worthy?"

"Ginger Bread," Lal grated, hand pressed to her shoulder.

"Quick, before you go after him," Ryouhei muttered, eyes fixed on the floating thing in the corner that looked like a kid and talked like a devil.

Lal elbowed him back. "No. This fight is mine."

Ryouhei had his mouth open to protest when she turned her head just a little and looked at him. Her expression made him sigh and step back. "All right. It's yours," he agreed, resigned; he couldn't deny her determination or her right. He waved to their support squad, drawing them back as Lal's rings lit with Flame, and prepared to wait.

To witness for her.

Yamamoto's mouth quirked and he stuffed the map they'd made of the Millefiore headquarters into his pocket and called Tsuna. "The building is moving."

"Yes." Tsuna sounded calm, but he always sounded calm when his Will was roused. "Can you still find your way?"

"I'll manage. I got cut off from my support squad, though, and they were pinned down by some Millefiore foot soldiers. Think anyone can get to them?"

"We'll try."

Yamamoto accepted that as philosophically as he could and moved on down the hall, snorting a little at the doors that opened ahead of him and closed behind. "A simple invitation would have done, you know," he called out.

"This is an invitation."

Yamamoto looked up and smiled, slow and hard. "Genkishi." He lit his Ring and opened his boxes, not rushing. Genkishi might or might not be a true swordsman, but he was close enough to open a duel formally, properly. Shigure Kintoki sang in his hand, delighting in the purity of Flame the Vongola Ring provided to wrap around it. "Squalo's still really pissed at you, you know."

Genkishi flicked his fingers before resting his hand back on the hilts of his swords. "Superbi Squalo's temper tantrums mean nothing to me beside my duty to carry out God's orders." His eyes fell on Jirou and he lifted a brow. "So it's true. You use four blades. Perhaps there will be no need to hold back, then."

Yamamoto set his stance and sent Kojirou winging above them with a flick of his Will. "It will," he murmured, letting the stillness of the sword wash over him, "be my pleasure."

Lambo was not in a good mood. First his support squad had gotten locked behind one of the sliding walls, and then he had wound up in company with Lussuria (and really, Lussuria was the kind who gave all of them a bad name), and now they were facing four piles of mobile muscles and a really disturbing woman who needed to figure out what the zipper on her top was there for.

It was not a good day.

And those muscles were really hard to do anything about.

And when Lussuria vanished into one of the piles, knee first, Lambo had had enough.

He shot the scary woman's weapon out of her hand to give them some time and hauled out his Bazooka, groping for the trigger. Ten years from now, he was probably going to be pretty annoyed with himself, but only until he remembered how important this was.

Squalo was muttering evilly under his breath as he watched their backs and Tsuna found himself amused, inappropriate as it seemed under the circumstances.

"...fucking Yamamoto gets all the goddamn fun..."

Xanxus didn't even seem to notice his second's seething, and Tsuna wasn't sure if that was good or bad, or even if he truly cared right now. No closing door or shifting wall had stopped them, and the Millefiore foot soldiers seemed to have finally drawn back from their path. Tsuna was distantly glad for that. It was Byakuran he wanted, and he would go through whatever was in the way, but the weight he could feel building up behind his floating fury would be less heavy if he didn't have to go through stacked bodies.

There was someone ahead of them now, though. Someone leaning against the wall, tapping a crop against his leg.

"And here are the little Vongola," the man sneered, straightening up. "Didn't you learn from your burned fingers last time?"

"Glo Xinia," Tsuna identified him. This one he would feel little guilt about.

"Indeed. And if I alone could kill your precious Rokudou, what makes you think any of you will survive to reach Byakuran?"

Tsuna glanced aside at Chrome, who had been following him quietly the whole way, and frowned. "Chrome?"

"We will deal with this," she said, soft voice sweet and cold as she stepped forward and her trident flashed between her hands.

"But..." It was true, Tsuna hadn't seen Mukuro for a little while, but that wasn't uncommon and he hadn't worried until now.

"Boss." Chrome looked over her shoulder and smiled, and the smile had a dark quirk to it that was very familiar. "Go ahead. We'll take care of it."

Tsuna heard what she said, this time, and nodded slowly. "Very well."

He would, after all, feel little guilt about Glo Xinia.

Gokudera swore as half the room suddenly fell away and the floor rose under him. It had been a risk to let him scout ahead, and now it looked like he'd just have to trust that nothing would stand against both Xanxus and the Eleventh until he got back to his boss.

Uri's growl recalled him to his own risks and he slid under cover just as a small, heavy ball crunched into the wall where he'd been with a nasty, final sort of sound.

"I almost wish we didn't have to do this," a whimsical voice echoed through the room.

"Gamma," Gokudera said quietly, watching the ball spark and pull itself out of the wall, soaring back over head. He flipped his jacket back from his belts. He'd read all the reports on this man, and this wasn't going to be fun.

"Unfortunately, the princess sent me a message. Or a puzzle. Hard to tell which. Either way it was orders to go all out, I'm afraid."

Gokudera's hands flicked through his boxes and he sent his defenses spinning out just in time to meet the lash of lightning that hammered down in a column on all sides. "Then we'll just have to go all out," he said, loud enough to be heard, and rolled out from under cover, slamming home the Flame Arrow cartridge and sighting on the blocky blond man above him.

Gamma smiled wryly as he watched the shot come.

In the end, the Millefiore squads hadn't fallen back, they had just prepared an ambush for the moment when Tsuna and Xanxus were alone, the moment when Squalo had finally been drawn off by an attacker who looked disturbingly like Belphegor and separated from them. Tsuna supposed he wasn't surprised, but he did wish there weren't so damn many foot soldiers hemming them in. He kicked another Millefiore away and fell back beside Xanxus. He couldn't put this off any longer.

"Cover me," he shouted over the snarl of Xanxus' guns and the screams around them.

Xanxus' lip lifted but he shot the attacking squads away from Tsuna as Tsuna closed his eyes and started to build his Flame carefully.

He'd always had to be careful; he'd broken more than one ring before he learned how to feel for the limits of the one he was using. This time the process was strange. The Vongola Sky ring didn't seem to have any limits, no matter how he built up his power. So he let it grow and breathed through it and fought to balance the Flame reaching outward with the softer Flame that would brace him. Finally, from the heart of the conflagration he lifted his head and spoke, quiet and sure.

"Xanxus. Look out."

He stepped past his companion and released the shot, and bodies and walls blew away from them, floor after floor and room after room.

As debris rained past them, Xanxus brushed himself off and eyed Tsuna with something besides rage in his expression for the first time in days. All he said in the end, though, was "Let's go."

Tsuna nodded and they climbed through what looked like some labs and maybe the communications hub unopposed.

Irie waited until the footsteps faded away to cautiously lift his head and look around his shattered control center. His mouth quirked as he looked at his smoking box weapon. He wasn't sure any of the Vongola had realized exactly what this building was, but they'd stopped Melone's ability to move just the same.

Now it was time for him to move.

He found his guns mostly intact in their cabinet and put a tranquilizer into each of the Cervello, just to be sure. He slipped down into the mechanics lab and dragged an unconscious Spanner under a desk where he'd hopefully have some shelter from whatever happened next. He closed the eyes of the three technicians who hadn't lived through the demonstration of the Vongola Eleventh's power.

And then he started stripping off his uniform.

He was down to the, in his slightly light-headed opinion, incredibly ugly boots when a voice spoke from behind him with no warning.

"Turning your coat literally and hoping to escape? How improper."

Irie looked up, wide eyed, into the narrow, predatory gaze of the Vongola's most dangerous and unpredictable man. "I... I can explain," he gulped, setting his ring down and raising his hands slowly.

"Indeed?" Hibari Kyouya leaned lightly against a broken wall. "Make it fast, then. I don't like to leave Namimori for longer than necessary."

Once the building stopped moving, Tsuna's people started regathering, and some of Xanxus' with them: Gokudera scorched and limping and tight-lipped; Yamamoto in company with Squalo, laughing as he obligingly described a sword fight for Squalo's growled critique and moving a little stiffly with a bandage across his back; Ryouhei looking battered but carrying Lal Mirch, who flatly refused to be evacuated, and guarded by Reborn and Viper despite their unremitting contemptuous jabs at each other; Belphegor waited for them, perched in a broken window, covered in blood and giggling, to say that Lussuria was busy making sure Levi survived and that Lambo was watching over them; no one knew exactly when Chrome rejoined them, but she was there, stepping silent as a shadow over the creaking floors with a soft, full smile on her lips.

They seemed to have left the Millefiore squads behind, as they gained the upper floors, and if they'd left their own support squads too, Tsuna only thought, distantly, that it was just as well. The next thing they found should be Byakuran himself.

So he was more than a little surprised when the form that stepped out of a side room and into their path was child-sized—a girl, looking weighed down by the Millefiore cloak over her shoulders.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi, Vongola Eleventh?" she asked, quietly.

His gaze caught on the ribbon around her neck and the familiar shape hanging from it. "Uni," he murmured.

"You've come," she said, with an evenness he recognized from his own voice these last few days, and that tugged at his heart but he stifled it; this was one of the two bosses of the Millefiore. She was still speaking, though, and her next words caught him entirely by surprise.

"I am the boss of the Giglio Nero, and on this day I dissolve the alliance between my Family and Gesso." She took a step closer, level gaze turning pleading. "I am also the boss of the Arcobaleno, and as the keeper of the pacifiers I ask for the Vongola's protection."

"You what?" Tsuna managed after a moment, feeling like his brain was spinning.

She looked down. "Byakuran doesn't care about my Family. It's only my heart he wants, to control the pacifiers. I went away, inside, to protect my heart and my charge, and sacrificed my Family because of it. There was no other way. But now," she looked up, biting her lip. "Now you're here, and you've won this far, and this is the time! Please." She lifted her hands, and he started, seeing they were full of the faint, colored glow of the lost pacifiers. "He must not have these."

"She is correct."

Tsuna looked around sharply to see Hibari climbing the last stairs with a rather bedraggled man Tsuna recognized after a moment as Irie Shouichi in his wake. "This," Hibari announced coolly, "answers the questions I have had for the past five years. Byakuran must not have the pacifiers and the rings." He beckoned peremptorily and Irie stepped forward, fidgeting.

"I have to tell you. You see, ten years ago..."

Turning the things Irie had told them over in his mind, Tsuna was unsurprised to find another of those impressive-looking and yet entirely insufficient metal walls blocking their way up to the top floor. It was the kind of mockery he was starting to recognize as Byakuran's manner. Xanxus fired once at it without breaking stride and Tsuna gathered his Flame in his hand and punched it viciously to shatter the weakened metal, sending shards flying through the ceiling and walls above.

His anger was sizzling on the edge of his ability to control it.

He was also unsurprised to find Byakuran smiling at them, bright and cheerful in the middle of his blown-out top floor. "What a good job!" The congratulatory tone was gruesome, considering the bodies scattered behind them, and Tsuna clenched his jaw and closed a hand tight on Xanxus' arm. They needed to know what Byakuran thought he had up his sleeve before they moved.

"What a shame you had to waste all that effort, too," Byakuran sighed, and turned a little, crooking a finger at the one door still standing. His smile turned smug and chill as six people Tsuna had never seen or heard of filed out to stand behind him. "These are the real six Funeral Wreathes, you see."

Gokudera made a choking sound, indignant for his opponent as much as for himself Tsuna thought. Xanxus just spat on the smoking, broken floor. "So what?" he growled.

Byakuran tapped a finger against his lips in a way that would have been playful under other circumstances, and Tsuna held back a sick shudder. "Well, I don't want to be unfair. You're all so tired out. So how about this! We'll have a round of Choice." Poison-cold eyes turned to Irie. "You'll like that, won't you Shou-chan?"

Irie stepped forward, faint ravaged hope showing in his eyes. "For what stakes?"

"The Trinisette, of course!" Byakuran spread his hands, the image of reasonableness. "If you win, you get all the rings and pacifiers I've gathered. If I win, I get all of yours." His gaze brushed over Uni as if casually, and she shivered and moved closer to Reborn, pacifiers gathered protectively to her chest.

"Irie," Tsuna said quietly, eyes not leaving Byakuran. "What does he mean by 'Choice'?"

"A battle," Irie explained, low and quick. "There are rules to it, that would limit him. It's a game we invented years ago—"

Tsuna held up a hand to stop him. "I see." His other hand tightened on Xanxus' forearm and then let go. Xanxus smiled.

"You've mistaken us, Byakuran," Tsuna said, lifting one hand and letting his Flame start to build. He dropped the other hand behind him and met Byakuran's eyes, levelly.

"This isn't a game."

Xanxus drew and fired in one motion, and Tsuna had one moment to see rage twist Byakuran's face before one of the six newcomers was in front of him, meeting Xanxus' Flame.

The fury Tsuna had held back, channeled into his Will, not given in to, built and built, and now he let it go, called it up, fed it to his Flame until his burned and raged like Xanxus'. He tracked the shouts, the explosions as their people hemmed in Byakuran and his six Wreathes, and he pressed against Xanxus' shoulder and shouted, "Together! Both of us!"

He could feel the vibration of Xanxus' snarl, but Xanxus stopped his fire and set his feet beside Tsuna, and his Flame started to build too. "For our world," Tsuna murmured. "For our Family." He heard Reborn calling for everyone to get back, and whispered, "For Federico."

Xanxus screamed as he fired, raw and agonized, and Tsuna stretched out his hand and drove his own heart and Flame out, after the thing that had twisted their world and their lives, the living person he could not allow to continue living. He met Byakuran's eyes one last time before they disappeared in the wild fusion of Flames, blank and somehow surprised.

And then they really were in freefall and Tsuna barely had the strength left to keep himself on top of the rubble instead of underneath it. The jagged ruin still stole the world away when he landed.

Tsuna woke up with Reborn's shoe in his ribs, which was comforting. Hazily, he decided that said something about his life. "Gokudera," he rasped, and coughed. Dust hung thick in the air.

His right hand appeared in his field of vision, leaning over him. "Here, Boss. We're all accounted for. Ryouhei has broken bones and Chrome is still unconscious. Mammon's protective suit tore and he's been evacuated back to headquarters. Squalo has a concussion and Irie has internal bleeding; we're waiting on immobilizers to move him. Everything else is minor."

Tsuna sagged back against the rock with a sigh of relief. "Thank you." After this long, Gokudera knew what was most important to him. He looked at Reborn. "Uni?"

"I'm fine," Uni answered herself, coming to kneel beside him. "Thank you for doing this."

"You're welcome, though we didn't have much choice." Tsuna waved a hand and Yamamoto stepped in to helped him up. Once he was standing, Xanxus left off growling at his people and stalked over, attitude only slightly impaired by an exhausted stagger every now and then. Tsuna couldn't help a tiny smile.

"Is he dead?" Xanxus demanded, hard eyes tracking over each of them. A ragged edge of tension still ran through him.

"Not like you left any bodies to check," Gokudera pointed out dryly, but Uni shook her head.

"He's gone," she said with certainty.

"Gone." Xanxus looked at them, and then around at the rubble that was all that remained of the Millefiore. The tension in him wavered uncertainly.

Tsuna took a long, slow breath. "All right. It's over, then." He let the breath out. "So it's time to go home."

A murmur of relief ran through his people until a raw crack of laughter broke it. "Home?" Xanxus swayed on his feet. "What for?"

Tsuna flinched. "Xanxus..."

"Um?" Irie edged cautiously closer. "He... he isn't dead. Federico."

Tsuna just looked at him, completely unable to make sense of the words. "What?"

"The bullet he was shot with. It was one of the special bullets. It didn't kill him; he's only suspended." Irie's words came faster in face of their stares. "It was the plan he agreed to, for the sake of defeating Byakuran. He's still alive."

Tsuna's stunned thoughts worked through that slowly. A plan. For defeating Byakuran. That required Federico be dead. Only not. He looked around at the flattened ruin he and Xanxus had made of the building and thought about the constant pain at the back of the past few days. Finally he bowed his head. "It worked," he whispered, which was all the forgiveness and blame he could possibly afford his boss.

His head snapped up again at the sound Xanxus made. Xanxus was staring around too, eyes wild and wounded. "Boss..." he whispered, harsh, and sank to his knees like the strings holding him up had been cut.

Maybe they had.

"Xanxus!" Tsuna slid to his own knees in front of Xanxus, grabbing his shoulders. Xanxus wrenched away from him in wordless denial, but Tsuna didn't give way

Xanxus was one of his Family.

He reached down into himself even though his Will and spirit felt scraped raw and pulled up strength out of the oath he'd given.

Anything.

He leaned his forehead against Xanxus', and wrapped his Flame around memories of Federico, and and pressed them against the void of Xanxus' pain. He held Xanxus' Flame in his, held on to the knowledge, the memory, that Federico loved them. "He wouldn't have done it for anything less than our world, for anything less than the life of our whole Family. You know that!" And he knew it, because he'd given the same promise himself.

Anything.

Eventually Xanxus sagged in his grip, whole body shaking. Tsuna sighed softly and leaned against him. "I know," he whispered. "I know." Slowly he levered himself to his feet again. "Come on. We need to get home." He looked over at Uni and Irie. "You too."

He was careful to put Irie in a different car than Xanxus, though.

Federico had believed Irie when he said this was the only way, that Federico himself had to be out of the picture so that the Sky ring could go to Tsuna, that only rage at his death would drive Tsuna and Xanxus to do what had to be done and see it through to the bare, blasted end. He would never have agreed if he hadn't believed it.

When he saw Tsuna shepherding Xanxus toward the mansion, though, and saw the broken slump of Xanxus' shoulders, that didn't really help.

Chaos surrounded them as the wounded were unloaded and the dazed looking prisoners-turned-allies of the erstwhile Black Spell were led off to one of the emptier wings, and all of it required his attention, his direction, the reassurance that he lived. But the idea of betraying the pain and need in Xanxus' shuttered eyes, again, made him sick. Xanxus hesitated as he came to them, turning his head away, and Federico bit the inside of his lip hard.

Tsuna made an exasperated sound and gave Federico a stern look. "Until tomorrow morning," he said, and held up his ring hand. "Until then. Just go." He pushed Xanxus firmly toward Federico and turned to march off toward the knot of Vongola underbosses gathering around the young Giglio Nero boss and her second, Gamma.

Federico blinked and his mouth quirked. "Well. I suppose we'd better do as he says, then." Xanxus didn't answer, and Federico's heart twisted again. "Come here," he said, softer, and closed an arm around Xanxus' shoulders, leading him into the House. He could feel the tremors running through Xanxus and cursed himself and fate and Byakuran impartially.

He only waited until a few doors were closed behind them to pull Xanxus against him and hold him tight.

A shudder ran through Xanxus and he clutched Federico's shoulders. "Boss..." he said, low and hoarse.

"Only to save our Family," Federico whispered to him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head. "Not for anything less than that, I swear it. I'm sorry."

Someone like Xanxus didn't cry easily, and the harsh, stifled sobs that wrenched out against his shoulder set Federico to damning Byakuran and his ancestors for ten generations, and himself for doing such a thing to the one most loyal to him, no matter the reason. He held Xanxus to him tightly, and drew in a deep breath. "Never again," he said, closing his eyes at what he was promising. "Never again, for any reason; you have my word."

Slowly, Xanxus quieted, though he still didn't look up. "Your word?" he asked, finally, voice choked and rough.

"My word," Federico swore, wrung out by the pain he'd caused. Maybe what he promised now would lead him to a betrayal of his greater Family, but he couldn't. He couldn't think of doing something like this to Xanxus again.

Xanxus nodded just a little against his shoulder. "Okay."

"I'm sorry," Federico murmured again, at a loss because the words weren't nearly enough but he couldn't think of anything that would be.

Xanxus shook his head. "Just... let me stay?"

Federico caught him closer, fiercely. "Yes."

Eventually he pulled Xanxus into the bedroom and down onto the bed, and worked off his shoes and jacket, careful to never let him go entirely. Xanxus watched him quietly, with bruised eyes, and pressed close when Federico settled beside him. It was an hour, maybe two, before the tightness of his arms around Federico finally relaxed a little, and his breath started to come deeper. Federico stayed awake, holding him close, fingers running slowly through his hair, watching over him as the sky lightened.

Never again, he promised in his heart. Whatever it took, never again.

And as Tsuna leaned wearily over a table, drinking the coffee Gokudera brought him as he spoke to Uni about the anti-Trinisette generator, the Sky ring gleamed for a moment on his finger.

Federico called in all the Family's leaders the next afternoon, and sighed at the way they shifted and murmured among themselves. "All right, everyone shut up and listen." He laid it all out as clearly as he could, the danger Byakuran had posed, the evidence across time that said Tsuna and Xanxus had to be the ones to bring him down, the stakes that they had gambled against, the Trinisette itself. He watched his people's eyes move over Reborn, in his wheelchair, and over Uni, with the gently glowing box set between her hands on the table, and over Tsuna and the six who stood behind him.

"We won that gamble," he told them, putting as much assurance in his voice as years of experience let him, "and the Family is safe."

"And you're alive," Tsuna added, with just an edge of dryness. Federico was sure he'd hear more of it in private. "So there's something left to do."

Another stir ran through the room as Tsuna rose. He met Federico's eyes, mouth twitching just a bit at the corner, and pulled the Sky ring from his finger. "This is yours." He offered it on his open palm. "Boss."

Federico took the Ring back, smiling wryly up at Tsuna. "I know you never wanted it," he murmured, just between the two of them, and then raised his voice for the rest. "You've done everything I asked of you and more. Thank you."

Tsuna snorted softly, covered by the generally relieved rustle in the room as he took his seat again. Behind him, the rustle continued as Tsuna's Guardians passed their Rings back to Federico's. Not the way things usually happened, but Federico took a certain comfort in the relief on a few of their faces. At least he could relieve these few from the burden of the last few days.

"Now," he gathered his people's eyes back to himself. "We have two last things to deal with. One is our new alliance with the Giglio Nero." He nodded to Uni, who nodded serenely back. "We will be working together to recover the Mare rings from the Millefiore headquarters and restore that balance."

A generally approving murmur went around. From Fedele's quick report, it seemed that some of Uni's people had impressed the Vongola, who appreciated honorable opponents.

"The second thing is a new member of our Family." Federico opened his hand at Irie, sitting quietly off to the side. "Irie risked more than his life to bring us news of Byakuran and a plan to defeat him. I have taken him and a few of his own people who survived into the Vongola."

The murmur was more dubious this time, and cut across by the harsh sound Xanxus made as he pushed half out of his chair, glaring at Irie. Federico had expected that, all things considered, and started to reach out to him, but someone else beat him to it.

"Xanxus." Tsuna laid a firm hand on Xanxus' shoulder, and there was compassion but no shred of compromise in his voice. Federico's brows went up. Apparently this experience was going to have some lasting effects; he'd never heard Tsuna speak like that except in the deepest grip of his Will and in the middle of a fight.

Xanxus glowered at Tsuna, but subsided under his hand.

Another murmur went around the room, this one with a thoughtful undertone, and any protests over Irie were lost in the sudden sidelong looks at Tsuna.

Federico resisted the urge to rub his forehead and curse. Damn, damn, damn it all anyway.

He'd hoped to avoid this.

"So Cienna and Ricco are coming back to the main house soon?" Tsuna leaned back in his hair with a sigh. "Good. That will be the last thing we need to get things back to normal."

"Mm."

Tsuna cocked his head at Fedele. "What? Is Cienna still upset with Federico?" Not that he could blame her in the least.

Fedele ran a hand through his hair, not meeting Tsuna's eyes. "It... might not be the best moment for Ricco, especially, to come back."

Tsuna frowned. "Is he that upset with his father?" He could understand being a little shocked over the whole temporarily-dead thing, but Ricco had always struck him as quite resilient.

For some reason, Fedele was giving him an exasperated look. "No, it's this thing with you."

Tsuna blinked, at a loss. "With... me?" Surely no one else had heard him tearing strips off his Boss for this whole affair? And even if they had, who would have told Ricco about it?

Now Fedele was staring. "Tsuna. Are you telling me you really don't know?"

"Know what?" Tsuna was starting to get irritated with all this obscurity.

Fedele sat back, frowning at him. "That a good two thirds of the Family is saying that you should be the Eleventh, after Federico. That you already are, in fact."

For a long moment, the words didn't even make sense. When they did, Tsuna's chair went over with a clatter.

"They're what?!"

Federico was trying to find just the right ending to his exquisitely polite letter to the Vendicare, telling them that it wasn't his problem if they couldn't keep track of their prisoners and no they could not search his headquarters for Rokudou Mukuro, when his office door flung open with a crash. He had his gun halfway out before he realized that it was Tsuna.

Tsuna, panting and rather wild eyed.

"Have you heard about this?!" Tsuna demanded, before Federico would ask what the hell was wrong.

"About what?" he asked, holstering the gun and sitting back down.

"Everyone thinking I'm supposed to be the Eleventh!"

Ah. Now it made sense. Federico sighed and gave Fedele, just now coming up behind Tsuna, a wry smile. "I've heard it mentioned in passing, yes." No one was quite saying it to his face, yet, any more than they'd mentioned it to Tsuna himself, which just went to show that the Vongola didn't have any stupid underbosses.

"Sorry, Boss," Fedele murmured, closing the doors after them. "I didn't realize..."

Federico waved it off and pointed to a chair. "Sit."

Tsuna sat, looking thoroughly unnerved. "I mean, when we were at war, yes, I suppose it made some sense. When it was the only way. But I'm not in the line of real descent! I would never take that away from Ricco!"

"I know you wouldn't," Federico said, quietly. "But, Tsuna, the fact is you are in a legitimate line. And the whole Family has just watched you prove your strength." And his leadership, more to the point.

Tsuna downright glared at him, rather the way he often did at Reborn. "Stop helping! You can't possibly want to see that happen."

Federico sighed. "No, I don't. But I have to deal with the facts as they are, and this idea has gained a great deal of momentum. I have to consider the good of our whole Family; an internal fight will serve no one."

Tsuna's mouth tightened and he lowered his head. "If it is your judgment that taking the Ring after you is the best service I can give to the Vongola, I will, of course, do as you wish," he said, low.

Federico winced. The conscience of the Vongola had a way with pointed words. "I'm trying to calm things down. Just give it a little time."

"I'll try." Tsuna sounded dubious, and Federico couldn't really blame him.

Tsuna did his best to give things time for a month. And then another. He did his best not to fry the liver of any Family member who mentioned the possibility of being the Eleventh to him, and stopped being able to complain about it, either, because Gokudera looked like he secretly agreed with them even while he was sympathizing and Yamamoto laughed and Hibari asked what was stopping him. He held onto his patience with both hands, and his teeth on bad days, and tried not to give Federico too many reproachful looks.

The part that really got to him, though, was the way Ricco had started looking at him.

"He has to know I wouldn't!" he insisted to Federico, almost pleading. "He knows that, doesn't he?"

"I'm sure he does, Tsuna, he's known you for years." That would have been more soothing if Federico hadn't had a little frown line between his brows. "I think it's just that he keeps hearing the edges of conversations about this."

Tsuna slumped back in his chair a little, contemplating fried livers again. "Boss," he said quietly, "I don't think this is going to go away."

"Not easily, no," Federico agreed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Not unless we make something of it. I'd hoped to avoid that."

"I'll be happy to make something of it," Tsuna growled, and Federico's mouth tilted.

"I know it's an insult to your loyalty," he said softly. "I'm sorry to have asked you to stand and swallow such a thing. I hope you know that I have no doubts of you at all."

Tsuna's temper ebbed away on that assurance, and he ducked his head. "I know."

The moment of ease was broken by a quick rap on the door. "Dad? Are you... oh." Ricco hesitated, and Tsuna's heart twinged. "Well... actually, maybe it's good if I can talk to both of you?"

"Come in, son." Federico smiled and held out a hand. "What's on your mind?"

"Well..." Ricco perched on one of the chairs, shifting nervously. "It's about this thing I keep hearing, about, um, Tsuna being the Eleventh instead of me."

Tsuna took a breath and braced himself. "Ricco," he said as calmly as he could, "please believe me, I have no intention of doing any such thing."

"Well, about that." Ricco shifted again. "Um. I think it might work out?"

Tsuna stared at him, caught completely by surprise, distantly aware that Federico was staring too.

"Ricco," Federico managed, finally, "why would you say that?"

"Well, Dad," Ricco huffed a little, "if I'm the next Boss then I have to get married, right? And have heirs too, right?" His face wrinkled up like he'd smelled something bad. "And that means going to bed with a girl. And the... the squishy bits." He didn't add yuck! but he might as well have.

Tsuna opened his mouth and closed it again, exchanging completely bemused looks.

"I think you might feel differently when you're older," Federico started, and for a moment that made sense to Tsuna, but... thinking back he was very sure he'd grown out of the girls-are-icky stage much younger than Ricco's current sixteen, and so had everyone he'd known.

Ricco had stopped fidgeting and was giving Federico a look of complete exasperation. "Dad. I don't mean it like that at all."

As Federico blinked, Tsuna ran Ricco's phrasing past his mental ear again and started to have a glimmer of suspicion. "Ricco?" he asked, and when Ricco turned that grownups-are-idiots expression on him, murmured, "Am I right in thinking it's the having sex with girls that's the problem, and not having sex with girls?"

Ricco brightened up. "Yeah!" And then he glanced at his father and started fidgeting again.

Federico made a couple of tries before he settled on, "I'm sure there are ways to deal with that..."

Ricco crossed his arms and looked mulish. "I haven't heard of any way to have a kid with another guy, have you? And I don't have any cousins last I looked. Except Tsuna." He hunched down a little more and added, "And have you heard what they want me to do?! They want me to marry Mari!"

Tsuna sat bolt upright. "Exactly who has suggested marrying off my daughter?" he asked, very evenly. His two-year-old daughter!

Ricco blinked and edged back in his chair. "That was, um, Filippo Diatto."

"I see."

Federico looked like he was getting a headache. "Tsuna, please don't kill anyone without letting me know first," he murmured, and sat back, running a hand through his hair. "Ricco. I suppose I can understand why you might be hesitant. But giving this up... do you really understand what this means?"

Ricco looked up at him, serious. "It means that Tsuna will be Boss after you, and take care of the Family. It means I'll be an underboss, I guess."

"And under Tsuna's orders," Federico added, gently. "Even if you disagree with him. Can you give him your whole loyalty that way?"

Ricco looked over at Tsuna and said, directly to him, "Yes." He broke into a sudden smile, the same one that melted resistance when Federico showed it. "I trust you. You'll take good care of everyone."

"Ricco," Tsuna said, softly. He reached out and laid a hand on Ricco's shoulder. "I'm honored by your trust."

Ricco blushed and ducked his head. When he looked up at his father again, his eyes were wide and entreating. "Dad. Please. I think this would be best for everyone. I mean... if I'd had a sister you wouldn't have forced her to marry someone she didn't like, would you?"

Federico shook his head, looking stunned. "No. No, of course not." He pushed away from his desk and held out his arms. "Ricco, come here."

Tsuna smiled softly and looked away, giving Ricco's teenage dignity a little privacy as the two of them hugged each other tight.

"I never intended to do any such thing," Federico said, a little husky, and Ricco nodded vigorously against his shoulder. He took a deep breath and looked across at Tsuna. "So. Considering this... are you willing to take the Family after me, Tsuna?"

Tsuna took a moment to reorder the thoughts that Ricco had turned upside down and settled his shoulders, meeting Federico's eyes. "I am."

Federico smiled that sweet, bright smile for him. "I have no doubts of you," he said, quietly.

Tsuna bowed his head, giving again, silently, the promise he'd given once before. Anything for his Family.

Ricco straightened up and scrubbed a hand, as if casually, over his eyes. "Okay! I can tell Lambo it's all okay, then!"

After a moment of silence, it was Tsuna who said, "Lambo?"

Ricco froze. "Oh. Um."

"Lambo?" Federico echoed.

"Um. Yeah." Ricco smiled at them both hopefully, edging backward toward the door all the time. "So, that's all cleared up, right? Great!" He was out the door before either Tsuna or Federico could frame the question hovering over both their heads.

"On the bright side," Tsuna finally said, a little weakly, "after this, managing the Family should be simple."

Epilogue

Gokudera leaned back in his chair and gave Tsuna a wry smile across the desk. "Well, at least this time we have a little more notice to prepare."

"I'm not sure that's actually an advantage," Tsuna told him. Staring down the gauntlet of inheritance without a mafia war to distract him was doing bad things to his nerves.

"Well I appreciate it," Gokudera said dryly, and Tsuna shook himself and smiled at his right hand.

"I know. Most of the re-organization is falling on you. I'm sorry I can't—"

Gokudera waved a hand to cut him off with a small smile. "Boss. It's my job, and it's one I'm glad to do for you. You take care of boss-stuff and leave the rest to me."

Tsuna reflected, once again, that he didn't know what he'd done to deserve the friends, and soon the Guardians, fate had given him, but it must have been something pretty stupendous.

"Speaking of which," Gokudera added, "have you found anyone who might take over—"

A tap at the door interrupted them, and Ricco stuck his head inside. "Tsuna, do you have a moment?"

"We were just," Tsuna started, but Gokudera shook his head, suddenly smiling cheerfully.

"No, it's nothing that can't wait. Go ahead." He stood and gathered his paperwork and was out the door before Tsuna could do more than blink.

"Well, I guess I have a moment." He waved Ricco to a seat. "Something on your mind?"

"Only the same thing that's on the mind of absolutely everyone in the entire Family," Ricco snorted, and Tsuna had to stifle a laugh.

"So what about your dad's retirement?" he asked, obligingly.

"Well." Ricco ran a hand through his hair and took a breath. "I was thinking that I should take the Varia."

There were still times, even after all these years, when the mafia world shocked Tsuna, and this was one of them. "Why?" he finally managed to ask.

Ricco just looked back at him, eyes dark and serious. "We both know Xanxus is going with Dad, when he retires. There's no way it could be different. And the knowledge that the leader of the Varia wields the Sky Flame has been one of our hole cards for a long time, hasn't it? There's only one person with the Sky who can take the Varia now." His mouth quirked. "Mari is way too young."

Tsuna, who had had his mouth open to mention how young Ricco still was, closed it. He was starting to have a suspicion of why Gokudera had left so fast; Ricco had a solid grasp on strategy, at least, if he'd spoken to Tsuna's right hand ahead of time.

"Tsuna." Ricco leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I know you don't like assassination or most of the rest of the Varia's business. But there will still be times we need it. And when those times come, the Varia had better still be the best. I can do that for the Family." Softly he added, "And for you."

Tsuna spread his hands flat against the desk, examining them, looking at the wink of the ring he was using now and remembering the oath he'd given to win the approval of the Vongola Ring. "I know," he finally said, quietly. "I know you're right. And I know you can." He looked up with a wry smile. "I should have done what I was thinking about and asked you to take CEDEF, a few years ago, when my father retired."

Ricco grinned at him. "I'd still have suggested this instead. I've been thinking about it for a while."

"You're your father's son," Tsuna murmured, and smiled a little at Ricco's faint blush. "All right. I want to discuss this with a few other people, but... If you're willing, I'll be glad to have you."

Ricco nodded solemnly. "Thank you." The grin flashed again and he added, as he rose, "Boss."

Tsuna watched him leave and thought about the future fast approaching. It wasn't one he'd expected, when Reborn showed up on his doorstep or when he'd agreed to follow Federico. He'd never wanted to be the Vongola Eleventh. But this was the future, and the Family, that had come to him, and he'd found that he loved that Family too much to refuse.

"Anything," he murmured again to the waiting shades of those who'd gone before.

They followed along at his shoulder as he went to find Gokudera.

End

Archimedes' Lever - Five

Just when things might be settling down, Mukuro appears, targeting the Vongola's heir. Drama, Action, I-4

Seven months and sixteen days—he'd counted—after Reborn started shadowing them with his measuring looks and annoying observations, Xanxus walked into the old man's office to find both Reborn and Sawada already there.

"What's this?" he asked, instantly suspicious. His father's Guardians might be his closest protectors and advisers, but the outside adviser was the outside adviser, after all, and Reborn seemed to be the old man's personal weapon or something.

The old man just chuckled and waved him to a chair and looked at the other two men. "Well?"

"He'll do." Reborn tipped his hat down. "I'll serve him after you."

Sawada leaned back with a wry grin. "Yeah. When it comes time, the Rings can go to him and his."

Xanxus, barely seated, stared at them; he thought distantly that his mouth was hanging open but couldn't seem to do anything about it. "You..." he started, and couldn't actually think of any way to finish that. He looked at Reborn, dazed. "You?"

Reborn looked back at him, serene as ever, and repeated, "You'll do."

"It's good to have that decided," the old man said briskly, "because we may need you elsewhere very shortly, Reborn." He slid a file across his desk. "It appears that Rokudou Mukuro has escaped."

"Escaped?!" Sawada snatched up the folder, paging through it. "I didn't think that was possible!"

"This is Rokudou we're talking about." The old man leaned back tiredly. "And, perhaps more disturbing, no one has heard about or seen him since. We don't think he's left the country, but we don't know where he is or what he's doing. All the Families are nervous. So," he smiled at Xanxus, "I'm glad to see all of us are in agreement today. I don't want any doubts or instability that could be attacked."

Xanxus pulled himself together and took the folder as Sawada handed it on, scanning it. "How much of this is hearsay?" he asked, settling his nerves with the familiar sense of working on a target. "We know the Rossi were destroyed, but is any of this about his methods solid?"

"Since there were no survivors, all we have is hearsay." The old man looked grim. "And all we can do for now is watch for him and be ready to move quickly."

Xanxus tossed the file to Reborn. "Squalo will speak to the Varia squad leaders about keeping their eyes open."

"You want me to go for him when he's found," Reborn stated instead of asked, running an eye down the pages of the folder in turn.

"I think you have the best chance," the old man said quietly.

"As you wish." Reborn closed the folder and set it aside calmly.

Afterwards Xanxus thought, a bit wistfully, that it would have been nice if things had worked out that way.

Two months with Rokudou on the loose and everyone in the House was whispering and looking over their shoulders and Xanxus could barely stand to be inside.

"What the fuck is wrong with them all?" he growled, throwing himself down in a chair out on one of the east balconies.

"Damned if I know." Squalo pulled out another chair, frowning. "It's even getting to the Varia. We really need to find someone else who can take that branch; we're both too busy to thump on the idiots like someone should and Tyr can't take the stronger ones anymore. Stubborn bastard," he added. Xanxus growled some more. Almost two years since he'd been named heir and still there were no candidates who really seemed to suit.

Gokudera, perched on the railing, piped up, "People think there's something weird going on. Some of the men are talking about drugs getting slipped in somehow, or something."

Squalo cocked his head at their shadow. "Why drugs?"

"Some people are acting weird, they say." Gokudera shrugged a shoulder, frowning a little himself. "No one I've talked to can get any more specific than that."

"'Acting weird'." Xanxus slouched lower, disgusted. "Are they mafia or little kids? For fuck's sake."

Fast steps rang down the hall and they all looked around as the door jerked open. "Xanxus," Rafaele called, leaning out, "the Ninth wants to see you. Quickly."

"Some action, thank God," Xanxus muttered as he stalked inside, and ignored the amused sound Squalo made, behind his shoulder.

The old man didn't agree, of course.

"Reborn will go to watch your back," he stated, flat and hard. "Whoever did this said they would negotiate only with you, but you are not going alone."

Xanxus ran his eyes down the letter found beside the bodies of ten Vongola foot soldiers. "Negotiate." He snorted. "If they asked for me, it's a fight they'll get."

"I suspect they know that," Reborn observed, ankles crossed on the chair seat in front of him.

"It's a trap, then." Squalo leaned over Xanxus' shoulder to read. "They want to kill the heir. We'll take Levi along too; whatever the hell has been going on around here, we know he's solid for you."

Xanxus grunted. He knew he wouldn't get away without an escort, but he didn't want too many people between his guns and whoever did this. "All right. Squalo, Levi and Reborn. That's enough close-in backup." As his father opened his mouth, frowning, he added, "Any more might spook the bastards off. They asked for me." He stood. "They'll get me." And afterward they'd never touch what was his again.

The old man sighed. "All right. Just be careful, my boy."

Since Xanxus wasn't really going to agree to that he substituted, "Don't worry."

From his father's wry smile he didn't think it worked, but at least it got them out of the office.

"We have a day to plan this," Squalo said, all business. "I'll get the maps of Primosole and meet you."

When Squalo joined Xanxus and Levi in Xanxus' office, though, he had more than the maps. Xanxus frowned at Gokudera and Ceirano as they tagged in after. "What are you doing here?"

"We're coming with you." Ceirano's tone added you idiot. Xanxus stopped glaring on general principles and started glaring for real.

"Boss," Gokudera said, quietly, "if they're gunning for you, you should have your own people around you."

"I'll have Squalo and Levi," Xanxus said brusquely, and jabbed a thumb at Reborn. "And him."

Ceirano leaned against a chair and folded his arms. "Think the Ninth would agree?" he asked, and the grin that answered Xanxus' growl showed teeth. "We're coming; deal with it. Boss."

Short of shooting them himself, Xanxus couldn't really think of a way to stop them. He considered the shooting option for a moment, during which Ceirano looked cool and immovable and Gokudera ducked his head apologetically but looked stubborn as hell. Finally he snorted. "Fine."

"Um." Everyone looked around as someone spoke from the door. "I'd like to come too."

Xanxus stared for a blank moment as Tazio stepped into his office. "What the hell makes you think I would agree to that? Or that Enrico would agree, either?"

"It doesn't really matter what Father agrees to," Tazio took a deep breath, "if I'm one of your people."

Xanxus was reduced to blinking. "One of... Tazio... What the hell?"

"I think he's saying that he wants to serve under the Tenth," Squalo said, a little dryly.

Xanxus spared a glower for Squalo's sense of humor before he looked back at Tazio, frowning. "Why?"

Tazio spread his hands. "Because you're amazing, Uncle Xanxus! I mean," he was practically bouncing on his toes for god's sake, "you take all the crazy-hard jobs, and you always come back, and you've run the Varia, and," he waved his hands exuberantly, "I want to help!"

"You want to help," Xanxus repeated slowly. "And that's why you're running up to risk your life?"

Tazio just looked at him, perfectly open. "Of course."

Xanxus felt at a bit of a loss, in face of that, and glanced up at Squalo.

Squalo was smirking the way he did when he found something privately amusing. "Well," he glanced down at Xanxus, totally unsympathetic, "looks like the only thing we're missing is your Mist."

Everyone in the room stared at him, not just Xanxus. It was Xanxus he looked at as he shrugged and smiled, though. "What? I told you it would become obvious who your people were. If the Ninth asked you today who you would choose, aren't these them?" He waved a hand at the four other people in the office.

Xanxus looked around at them, feeling a little like he was seeing all of them for the first time.

"You know I'll follow you anywhere, Boss," Levi murmured. "The name doesn't matter."

Ceirano made a face but opened a hand palm up. "You won my service."

Tazio was just about fucking glowing. "I would," he breathed. "I swear. Uncle..." he grinned brilliantly, "Boss."

Gokudera, at least, looked as stunned as Xanxus actually felt. "Boss," he whispered.

Xanxus looked back at Squalo's crooked smile. "I'm your right hand," Squalo said quietly. "It's my job to know what you need and see it's done."

"All right," Xanxus said a last. "Yeah, okay." From the corner of his eye he caught Reborn's faintly amused look, and shook himself. "All right, then, if all of you are coming, come here and look at where we're going."

He spread out the map as his people gathered around, and buried himself in planning, and barely noticed the tension easing bit by bit out of his shoulders.

"What a dump," Gokudera muttered.

Looking over the patchy, crumbling walls of the little resort, its overgrown grounds with pathetic, scruffy little groves of trees, and the "for sale" sign which had obviously been up for years, Xanxus had to agree. "At least there won't be anyone else in the way," he growled. Which reminded him, and he looked down at Reborn. "The old man said he wanted you to cover our backs. Fine. Do that and stay out of my way, or I'll damn well shoot you myself."

Reborn cocked his head and looked up at him for a long, unreadable moment. Finally he nodded. "All right. I'll watch from here."

"Good enough." Xanxus jerked his head at the rest of them and vaulted up over the low gate.

They made it as far as the golf course before they were interrupted.

"Fucking amateurs," Squalo muttered as they ducked behind the rocks by the water hazard and the chick with the clarinet laughed.

Gokudera popped up for a look and ducked back, wall cracking a little over his head. "She's a bit out of range. Someone cover me while I close it up."

"No need," Xanxus grunted, leaning back against the rocks and counting down in his head. He snorted when Gokudera looked around at him, puzzled. "Haven't you noticed who isn't here?"

Two flat cracks sounded, and the annoying laugh cut off, and a breath later Ceirano called, "Clear!"

Xanxus stood up and dusted himself off. "Come on." Ceirano had a definite sneer on his face as he rejoined them. Xanxus couldn't really blame him; the chick had either been a total amateur or else off her rocker. Either way she was no challenge for a real sniper.

The next annoyance was waiting at the parking lot. Xanxus just stared at the old pervert as he gibbered about hostages and battles of the mind and why couldn't they bring him any soft little girls. "The fuck?" Hostage? Who did this guy think he was dealing with?

"Boss?" Levi asked, looking disgusted. Xanxus waved a hand.

"Yeah, go ahead." His mouth quirked as he watched. Levi didn't even bother with his specialized weapons; he just took the two creepy looking twin bastards bracketing him apart with his fists. When he was done Xanxus eyed the gaping old pervert up and down and sneered. Hell if he was going to waste a shot on this. One kick threw the old guy back against the broken asphalt with a satisfying crunch.

"These jokers took out ten of our people?" Tazio asked, as they went on.

"Doubt it," Squalo said, clipped. "They're here to slow us down, let the real enemy know we're coming and get a little of our measure."

Xanxus growled at that and almost missed the approaching hiss.

"Above!" Gokudera shouted, and they all dodged back as a massive ball of metal came down where they'd been standing.

"Not bad."

Squalo stilled as they saw their next opponent. "Boss."

Xanxus snarled. He'd seen that face not long ago in a file folder. "Rokudou."

The tall man hauled his weapon back and half smiled, dark and bitter. Before Xanxus could line him up for a shot, though, Squalo grasped his shoulder hard.

"This is wrong," he said, low. "There's still someone in that building, you can feel it. And Rokudou is out here with those other trash?"

Xanxus frowned. "You really think...?"

"I don't know. But it he's not really the one, you shouldn't be the one who deals with him."

Xanxus' mouth tightened, but Squalo was his strategist. "Levi," he snapped, throwing out an arm to hold the rest of them back. He watched as that ball sped out again, and Levi's parabolas snapped out to answer, and both of them dodged aside from the attacks. "Hm." They met hand to hand, and his scowl got deeper; the man was strong all right, stronger even than Levi maybe. But there was someone watching from the building. Xanxus gritted his teeth and finally barked, "Ceirano!"

"It'll take a while to get a clear shot if they stay that close," Ceirano observed, distant, eyes tracking each blow.

"Don't worry about killing him first shot, then, just take him down," Xanxus growled.

Ceirano nodded silently and faded aside, passing through the grove behind them with barely a rustle. Xanxus gathered up the other three with a sharp gesture and stalked on toward the building.

The inside was as much of a wreck as the outside, and Gokudera and Squalo frowned almost identically at the broken staircases. "Bastards are herding us," Gokudera declared, getting the flat glint in his eyes Xanxus hadn't seen in a while. When feet scuffed off one of the side halls, Xanxus wasn't surprised that Gokudera snapped alight a fistful of explosives and flung them before anyone else had turned all the way around. "I'll take care of this one," he snapped and stalked forward into the settling clouds of debris.

Squalo's mouth quirked. "Kid's got the Storm's temper, that's for sure."

They'd barely gone five steps when Tazio tensed. "Boss!" He lunged forward, intercepting the maniacally laughing blur heading for them, and when the dust settled he was glaring across the hall at a crazily grinning kid crouched on all fours. "Squalo," Tazio called, spinning his knuckle knife out of its sheath, "get the Boss where he needs to go."

While Xanxus was staring in disbelief, he darted in on the blond kid and they were gone, circling and lunging at each other through dusty, broken exercise equipment, leaving him with Squalo's snickering. "I can damn well get myself where I'm going," he grumbled.

"Sure you can. You're the Sky. But let your people do their jobs," Squalo told him.

Xanxus grunted and stalked on down the hall.

They finally found what they were looking for on the second floor, a big, open hall that might have been meant for a ballroom or receptions. The light from the dusty windows at one end was dim, and it took a few moments to spot the person sitting, lounging, in one of the equally dusty leather armchairs from the lobby.

"Welcome, gentlemen. You must be Xanxus, of the Vongola," a light voice greeted them, and the figure stood and stepped out of the shadows.

"The hell...?" Squalo murmured.

It was a kid. He looked around sixteen or seventeen. A kid with a creepy smile, but still a kid. "Who are you?" Xanxus demanded.

The kid laughed, merrily, and the sound actually made Xanxus' skin crawl. "What, you still haven't figured it out?" He spread his hands and smiled at them with a sardonic twist and the creepiest part was that it didn't look affected. "I'm Rokudou Mukuro."

Squalo's sword slid free and he ghosted a few steps away from Xanxus, opening space between them. Squalo believed it; Xanxus nodded a little, silently.

"You made a mistake, attacking the Vongola," he said, flatly, and fired.

The shot shattered the wall behind Rokudou, but Rokudou wasn't there anymore. Xanxus turned to put his back to Squalo, scanning the room, and that laugh echoed around them.

"No, actually I think I made a very good choice indeed. Let us see, though, shall we?"

The floor under Xanxus bucked, broke, they were falling. But he'd trained against Mammon more than once, and his logic wrestled his senses for control. This was illusion; it had to be. His feet were on the floor and his eyes would see what was really there. They would!

The room faded back in around him, though Rokudou was still nowhere to be seen. He glanced over his shoulder at Squalo, who was down on one knee, but looked steady again. And pissed off too.

"Very nice."

Xanxus' head snapped back around. Rokudou was in front of him, a few meters off, smiling, and one of his eyes was red.

"Let's try this, then." There was a trident between Rokudou's hands and he spun it, slamming the butt down on the floor. Pillars of fire burst up, and no matter how Xanxus disbelieved in them, they were still searing hot. He'd figure out later how the hell Rokudou was doing it, though. First things first. He bared his teeth and lifted a gun.

"You think I don't know about fire?" The blast of his Flame cut through those pillars and they died as Mukuro dodged aside, faster than anyone had a right to, laughing.

"Of course you do."

The voice came from behind him and Xanxus spun, catching the crosspiece of the trident on the barrel of his other gun while Squalo lunged for Rokudou's back. Somehow the little bastard twisted out from between them and Squalo hissed as the trident scored his shoulder.

As far as Xanxus could tell, sanity took a walk after that, and instead it rained snakes and self-proclaimed hellfire. That was okay, though, he'd grown up without sanity and as long as he could find Rokudou in his sights everything was going just fine. The building was creaking ominously around them by the time he and Squalo finally managed to corner Rokudou. The crazy bastard was still laughing.

"You're everything I hoped for," he murmured. And then he pulled out a gun, lifted it to his temple, and shot himself.

After a frozen moment, Xanxus stepped forward and turned the body over with his toe. "That was weird as all fuck," he muttered.

"You can say that again." Squalo came up beside him, a bit wide-eyed. "Was he just plain crazy?"

"Sure looked that way." Xanxus was still frowning down at the body and the sudden slash of Squalo's sword came as a total surprise. He threw himself back, one hand locked over the gash in his arm, more stunned than he could remember being before in his life. "Squalo?!"

Squalo's gaze was fixed on his own arm, and shocked. "That... wasn't me." He sucked in a hard breath and looked up at Xanxus, urgent. "Boss."

Xanxus' mouth tightened and he nodded shortly. Two steps forward, ducking under another slash and he brought the butt of his gun down and clubbed Squalo unconscious.

Rokudou's laugh rang out again.

Xanxus spun around, teeth bared. The body was gone. No, the body... was standing and smiling at him.

"Just what one would expect of the man who led the Varia," Rokudou purred. "You'll do perfectly."

Xanxus stood very still, looking down at Squalo's body, hearing again Gokudera saying that people were acting strangely, remembering that one bullet Rokudou had shot himself with. "They were destroyed," he said, very softly, and looked up. "The Estraneo."

"Very good!" The son of a bitch actually applauded. "It's my inheritance, you see," he added with a hard twist to his lips.

Xanxus fired both guns at him.

"Now, now," Squalo's voice came from behind him. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Xanxus turned to see Mukuro's eye in Squalo's face and snarled wordlessly. A smile that wasn't Squalo's curled Squalo's mouth.

"Anyone I've drawn blood from with my trident is mine. And to further my plans, I'll be adding you to my collection."

Xanxus glared, breathing hard, hands tight around his guns. "You will, huh? You think you can take me by using my people?" He laughed, harsh and wild. "Come on, then, you son of a bitch!" He slammed his guns back into their holsters and shoved one sleeve up and held his arm out, teeth bared. "Try it."

Squalo dropped bonelessly back to the ground and the trident licked out from behind him, drawing a line down his arm.

"If you insist," Rokudou murmured at his shoulder.

Xanxus wanted to answer, but he was too busy. The possession technique was based on a special bullet, and all of those were based one way or another on the Dying Will. And he would, by damn, stake his Will against this bastard's. He sank down to the floor, but he barely noticed that; fire was running down his veins and nerves. Fire, or maybe Flame. He drew on his own Flame, his own Will, as though he were going to feed it to his guns. This time, though, he turned it inward, burning back against that invading fire.

And the invasion flinched.

It surged back the next second, hard and vicious, heavy and cold for something that burned so fiercely. But that second was all the proof Xanxus needed and he raged back against it with nothing held back. He could barely feel the hard floor under him, had no idea what his body was doing, only knew he had to burn Rokudou out. He didn't care if he burned the whole world, as long as he burned Rokudou out of himself. He turned all the wildness of the Flame of Wrath against the thing inside him, the flashes of fury and hate and madness, the half-thoughts that lashed at him, trash and traitor and failure. He couldn't tell whether the moments of crushing pain were attacks or just side-effects. He wasn't stopping for them. For anything.

And in the end, scorched and smoking from the inside out, he looked out of his own eyes through the whirl of Flame and met Rokudou's, wide and shocked. Rokudou's lips moved. "You..."

Then the world was Flame. Or maybe fire.

When Xanxus woke up he was in a hospital bed. "What the hell happened?" he asked, or tried to; it came out as a croak.

"Xanxus? Are you awake?" His father leaned over him, and there was a nurse with a glass of water.

"What happened?" he tried again.

"Rokudou escaped," Reborn's voice said, and Xanxus turned his head to see Reborn perched on the bedside table, "while I was getting you out of the burning building."

Xanxus blinked. Burning? Maybe all the Flame hadn't gone inward after all. And then another memory jabbed him and he started upright. "Squalo!"

The old man pushed him firmly back down. "Squalo is just fine. Considerably better than you are, in fact." As Xanxus opened his mouth again, he went on. "All your people are fine. Some broken bones, some blood loss, but nothing too serious. It's you who's been unconscious for two days."

"Bastard was Estraneo," Xanxus rasped. "Picture was totally wrong. The Possession Bullet. Be careful going after him."

"Squalo told us," the old man soothed, hand on his shoulder. "We put the rest of it together. It's clear now he must have possessed the man everyone thought was him."

Xanxus' lips pulled up off his teeth. "Fixed the son of a bitch, though. He couldn't take me." He grinned up at the ceiling with slightly dizzy satisfaction. And it sounded like Squalo hadn't taken any permanent damage from being possessed, which maybe meant he wouldn't have to skin Rokudou before he killed him. "Where is he now?"

After a moment of silence he looked down at his father and Reborn, both of whom were looking at him with open startlement. "What?"

"You... resisted possession?" The old man smiled slowly. "I suppose we might have known."

Xanxus snorted. "Damn right." He ignored the sneaking warmth in his chest.

"As for where he is," Reborn put in, sounding his annoyingly calm self again, "we think he's left the country."

"He's what!?" Xanxus tried to sit up again and was pushed back down. "Goddamn it!"

"We have people on his trail," the old man said firmly. "We'll find him. I can't spare you to go off hunting him, though, not when three other Families have already taken far too much interest in what no doubt appeared to be a secret attack on us."

Xanxus grudgingly lay back into the pillows. Rokudou was going to be found, all right, and when he was Xanxus was going to turn him into dog meat.

No one touched what was his.

A week later, he was walking around on his own again, even if the old man did fuss over him, and he made it down the hall just as fast as ever when he got the call.

"You found him?" he demanded, throwing open the office door.

"He's gone to ground in Japan," Staffieri said, "but that's as far as we've gotten. He's good at hiding."

Xanxus thumped down in a chair and growled with pure frustration.

"I sympathize," his father said dryly. "But even Iemitsu hasn't been able to find them." He frowned. "And even if he did, I'm afraid he might not be able to hold them until you got there." He sighed. "It would have complicated things dreadfully at the time, but now I find myself somewhat regretting Iemitsu didn't inherit the Vongola Flame."

Xanxus frowned as a faint memory tugged at him. "Hey." He glanced at Staffieri. "Didn't I hear something about Sawada's kid?"

Staffieri lifted a brow. "The Ninth believes Tsunayoshi may have inherited the Flame, but the boy's shown no open signs of it."

"If he's got it, he's got it," Xanxus argued. "And if he needs it, he'll use it. And he's on the spot."

The old man made a thoughtful sound. "Perhaps I should ask Iemitsu about this again..."

"Tsuna?" Sawada ran a hand through his hair. "Ah. Well. The thing is..."

"Spit it out already," Xanxus grumbled.

Sawada sighed. "Tsuna doesn't seem to have much interest in, well, anything at all, really." He looked at the old man. "I believe you when you say he has the potential, of course, but I've seen no sign at all of it coming out."

"He'd be interested in survival, wouldn't he?" Xanxus said bluntly. "What if Rokudou has heard about him? He wanted someone with the Flame, that's for damn sure."

Sawada's face turned still and cold. "That is a good point," he said slowly.

The old man leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps," he murmured, "I should send Reborn to the boy."

Sawada lost his stone face and sputtered.

The old man smiled wryly at his outside adviser. "What do you say, my friend? Would you be willing to have your son serve me?" He glanced at Xanxus. "And my son after?"

Sawada snorted magnificently. "My blood is the Family's blood, and it will serve the Family in whatever way you require. Don't ask silly questions."

The old man's smile softened, and Xanxus had to glance aside from the way they looked at each other. "Very well, then. I'll ask Reborn."

It was a reasonably even deal, Xanxus decided, as he walked back to his own rooms. Someone else might get first crack at Rokudou, but at least Reborn would harass someone else for a little while.

TBC

Keeping Up with the Vongolas

Tsuna goes to Italy to get settled in his new job, and brings Yamamoto and Hibari with him. Settling in goes fine, but he finds his job is bigger than he'd thought it would be. Drama, I-3

Tsuna stepped out of the car and tugged his jacket straight. He still wasn't used to the suit.

"Big place," Yamamoto remarked, emerging behind him. It was certainly that; the huge building looked to Tsuna as though someone had taken at least four separate mansions and pushed them together.

"It's the main House," Basil said, closing the car door. He smiled cheerfully at Tsuna. "Don't worry; you'll be used to it in no time!"

"Hmph." Hibari climbed out of the back and looked around with a gimlet eye. "So where's Xanxus?" His hand flexed, already prepared for the grip of his weapons.

"Looks like he's coming," Kusakabe said, closing the door behind Hibari and nodding at the stairs the led down from the house, or House rather, to the drive. Hibari smiled.

"Ah, you don't think you could maybe wait just a little while..." Tsuna trailed off at the look Hibari gave him, which conveyed quite efficiently that Hibari would be willing enough to warm his teeth up by biting Tsuna first. Tsuna held up his hands. "Just asking."

Xanxus was followed by Squalo, Gokudera, someone Tsuna didn't know, and someone else he couldn't see clearly. "Sawada." He nodded briskly at Tsuna. "Good, you're all here. This is Tazio," he jerked his thumb at the young man with the bright grin beside him. "He and Gokudera will show you around." He glanced at Hibari as he stepped forward, clearly not interested in a tour of the House, and snorted. "Got someone else to settle you in."

The fourth person in the party stepped forward and Tsuna started. "Mukuro!" Beside him, Hibari turned very still.

"Sawada," Mukuro greeted him with a smile, eyes sliding toward Hibari. "And I see you brought me a present; how thoughtful." He laughed, flickering aside as Hibari lunged for him, and they were gone.

"That should keep him occupied for a while." Squalo showed his teeth. "Give him a chance to shake the kinks out after the long trip."

Tsuna shook his head, a rueful smile twitching at his lips. "It was very thoughtful of you." Kusakabe just sighed and pulled the rest of Hibari's luggage out of the trunk.

"He's the one you're thinking of for the Varia?" Tazio asked, looking after Hibari and Mukuro. At Xanxus' nod he laughed. "I want to watch that."

Tsuna couldn't help laughing a little too. At least one of them was fitting in right away.

After an extended tour of the house which mostly left Tsuna confused, they fetched up in a pleasant sitting room with the current boss of the Vongola and his heir. Tsuna was glad he'd seen a picture last year or he might have blurted out the thought about not looking like a mafia boss, and then all the other old men in the room would probably have laughed. Except for the old woman, whose expression was alarmingly similar to Hibari's, and who might have done something more extreme.

"You know Squalo and Gokudera," Xanxus said, from where he was slouched in an arm chair. "You met Tazio. Levi and Ceirano are away, you can meet them later." He waved at the older people. "They belong to the old man."

The slim, neatly suited man standing beside the Ninth made a faint grimace, as if he'd refrained from rolling his eyes, and the lean, dark, elegant man sitting to one side with an ankle crossed over his knee quirked a tiny smile, either at his companion or at Xanxus. "We're the Ninth's Guardians," he supplied. "I'm Rafaele Martelli. That," opening a hand at the man standing by the Ninth, "is Gianni Staffieri, the Ninth's right hand." He went around the room with graceful introductions. The alarming woman was Maria Purezza. The large, quiet man with dark, thoughtful eyes was Paolo Gemello. Apparently he had a twin, Piero, who wasn't here today and there was a Michele Rizzo who was off taking care of family things. Though why this information should cause everyone in the room to grin or snort or roll their eyes, Tsuna wasn't sure.

He supposed he'd find out over the next few months.

"And of course, you know Iemitsu and Reborn," Rafaele finished with a wry smile.

"Well, I thought I did," Tsuna couldn't quite help muttering under his breath with a somewhat exasperated look at his father, who looked his part in a dark suit far more serious than anything he'd ever worn or even seemed to own at home. His dad stopped looking serious and looked perfectly, infuriatingly innocent instead, and Tsuna positively glared. At least until he noticed the startled looks around the room. Then he flushed and straightened. A faint sound made him glance over at his own immediate boss, and Tsuna surprised a dark look on Xanxus' face for a breath. Some of the things Reborn had hinted at without saying suddenly came together in Tsuna's head and he stole a fast look at the Ninth.

Sure enough, the Ninth was looking rueful. Like the byplay between Tsuna and his dad was familiar in some not completely pleasant way. Xanxus was now looking out the window, brooding. Tsuna reminded himself that these signs were why he had really agreed to take this job in the first place, and pulled himself together. "I'm very glad to meet you," he said, nodding politely around the room. "This is Yamamoto Takeshi, who's agreed to work with CEDEF," Yamamoto bobbed a cheerful nod to everyone impartially, "and this is Kusakabe Tetsuya, who is here with Hibari Kyouya." Kusakabe nodded silently and Tsuna cleared his throat. "Hibari-san seems to still be out with Mukuro."

"This is the one you want for the Varia?" Gianni asked Xanxus, one brow raised dubiously. "Will he really be willing to dedicate himself to the Family?"

"He's dedicated to exactly what he needs to be: completely destroying his enemies." Xanxus didn't stir, but Tsuna thought he looked like he was hunching down further in his chair.

Tsuna tried not to let his growing disturbance show and interjected, "If Hibari-san was willing to come at all, it means he's considering the Family, and whether it's a thing he wants to preserve. If he agrees, he'll be completely dedicated." He shrugged with a rueful smile at the older people. "Hibari-san doesn't do anything half way."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Xanxus relaxing a little from that still tension, and decided that had been the right move. Squalo was looking at him with approval, which was a good sign anyway.

Hibari took that moment to stalk in, looking a bit battered and scorched but just about gleaming with satisfaction. "And this is Hibari-san," Tsuna introduced him with as much aplomb as he could muster.

"Mm." Hibari glanced around with only mild interest, though he paused and looked twice at Maria before turning to Xanxus. "These Varia. Where are they?"

Xanxus grinned at that, clearly entertained. "Show you tomorrow."

Hibari drew himself up, and Tsuna was resigning himself to a fast trip to wherever the Varia were when Maria stepped in.

"Tomorrow," she snapped. "You'll have to fight all the unit captains to convince them. Get some sleep first. It would be absolutely pathetic if you lost just because you were too stupid to gather your resources properly."

Hibari actually stopped and cocked his head at her. "You then, instead."

She crossed her legs, lip curled. "After dinner, boy."

Hibari considered that for a moment, while Tsuna held his breath, and finally nodded agreement and settled into the chair Kusakabe pulled up for him. Clearly, Tsuna reflected, there was a good reason Maria had reminded him immediately of Hibari; at least they might keep each other occupied.

"All right, Chrome?" Squalo asked quietly, and Tsuna realized there were two new people in the room, not one.

A slight young women had slipped in behind Hibari, and Tsuna started a little when he saw her eye patch and noticed her hair style as she nodded to Squalo. "Um...?"

Xanxus flicked his fingers at her. "This is Chrome. She's Mukuro's host out here." He raked a look up and down her and grunted, turning back to the gathering while she found a chair and let herself down into it with a rather tired sigh. Tsuna caught a frown on Paolo's face, and had to stifle an exasperated sigh of his own. Even he knew that, when Xanxus sounded like that, it meant he'd looked and was satisfied Chrome was all right and just didn't want anyone to notice he cared. Really, whatever had happened between these people before he came must have been huge if it had left this many misunderstandings lying around.

"Well, you're quite welcome, here, Tsunayoshi," the Ninth said, gathering all eyes back to himself, and Tsuna relaxed to see the faint smile under the Ninth's mustache.

"Thank you, sir." It was Xanxus Tsuna looked at as he finished, though. "I'm glad to be here."

The next morning, Tsuna barely had time for a piece of toast before Hibari set down the tea he had somehow extracted from the kitchen here with a click and demanded to know where the Varia were. Tsuna paused to fill his coffee cup before trailing along after the resulting crowd, figuring he would want to be awake enough to duck when Hibari started throwing things, and people, around. The way Xanxus and Squalo were both smiling as they led the little parade only confirmed his wariness.

They left the main House and crossed down a hill to an annex set back on its own. A bit to Tsuna's surprise, though only a bit, Xanxus stopped outside the door and waved at it. "There you go. Have fun."

Hibari didn't dignify that with a reply; he just stalked inside. There was definitely, Tsuna decided, a glint of anticipation in Xanxus' eyes as he strolled after. Kusakabe sighed and muttered, "Cavallone and Romario were a lot easier to deal with." Tsuna gave him a sympathetic smile, swallowed the rest of his coffee in a long gulp, and followed along.

There was a lot of black clothing, inside, which Tsuna had started to get used to, and a lot of leather, which he hadn't.

One of the men in the leather tried to stop Hibari, who was by now stalking a ways ahead of everyone else. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

Hibari gave the man a dubious look and a fast, hard swing of one tonfa, and snorted when he went down. "I thought you said there were strong people here," he said over his shoulder to Xanxus.

"Keep going. You'll find them at this rate." Xanxus would never look bland, but he was as close to it as Tsuna had ever seen.

Hibari sniffed and stalked on with Kusakabe a respectful distance behind his shoulder, and Xanxus prodded the downed man with his toe in passing. "Pay more attention next time," he ordered briskly, and strode on after Hibari before the man quite finished groaning an agreement.

"I know you said the Varia was more demanding than the other branches," Tsuna said quietly to Squalo, "but..."

"He got off lightly." Squalo didn't look at Tsuna, eyes following Hibari and Xanxus ahead of them. "He should have known with one look that Hibari was dangerous."

Well, all right, Tsuna couldn't really argue with that.

"Most people are paying better attention," Yamamoto murmured behind Tsuna, and when Tsuna looked around his eyes were bright and focused, tracking over the growing number of people in the hall. Squalo grinned.

"There are strong people here. You should think about it."

"Hey," Tsuna protested this attempt to poach his friend, the latest in an ongoing series. Yamamoto laughed.

"I'm staying with Tsuna. But I'll come visit a lot, how's that?"

Squalo gave him an exasperated look. "What the hell do you think this is, a neighborhood slumber party?"

"Hadn't thought of that. Do you think it would be fun?" Yamamoto smiled at Squalo with innocent cheer and Squalo growled and stalked further ahead.

Tsuna shook his head. "He should be glad you are staying with me."

Yamamoto laughed, and Tsuna reflected, not for the first time, that his friend had a fairly evil sense of humor once you got to recognize it.

The next room they came into was obviously their destination, because Kusakabe and Xanxus were leaning against the wall beside a fascinated Tazio, and Hibari was in the middle of it, tonfa hammering into another unfortunate in black leather. More people were quietly slipping in, and most of them seemed content to watch.

"So what's this?" A slight blond man had appeared beside them, and his smile instantly put Tsuna on edge.

"Your new boss, maybe."

The smile flickered. "Him?" The man gave Hibari a hard look as he kicked his latest opponent into the wall and something cracked. "I've never seen him here before. Is he from another Family? A hitman?"

"No." Xanxus didn't look away from Hibari. "He's not from the mafia at all."

The blond man was still for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was cold. "What kind of a joke is this?"

"No joke," Squalo put in, leaning beside Xanxus. "Go see for yourself, Bel. Looks like Hibari's done with the small fry."

Indeed, Hibari was looking around disdainfully as his half-conscious challenger was helped off to the side.

"We'll just see, then," Bel murmured, and strolled toward Hibari, a sudden fan of small, wicked looking knives appearing in his fingers.

"Um." Tsuna edged closer to Squalo and murmured. "So, you said Varia aren't actually supposed to kill each other, right?"

Squalo bared his teeth. "Usually." Just when Tsuna was relaxing a little, he added, "Course, Hibari isn't Varia yet." He shrugged at Tsuna's glare. "You think Hibari wants anyone going easy on him?"

Tsuna slumped against the wall with a faint groan. Yamamoto laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's Hibari. He'll be okay." Kusakabe didn't look away from Hibari, but he nodded a silent endorsement of this.

Tsuna tried to hold on to that thought, but it wasn't easy when he saw the things Bel's knives could do, and watched Hibari's blood start running. "Why?" he asked, soft and harsh, as they watched and did nothing.

"The Varia are the best," Xanxus answered, voice a little distant. "And this is the mafia. Negotiations are a big part of it, yeah, but they only happen because they're backed up with guns and knives every second. You want to see less bloodshed, Sawada? Then we need the threat of the Varia in hand. And that means no mercy here and now."

Tsuna looked up at him, lips tight. "You know I'll try to change it."

Now Xanxus glanced down at him, a wry tilt at the corner of his mouth. "Okay," he said eventually.

Tsuna took a breath and nodded and stayed where he was, watching silently as Hibari and Bel fought. And if he sighed with quiet relief when Hibari found the wires and smashed Bel into the floor three breaths later, well no one but Yamamoto heard him.

Hibari made considerably shorter work of the rather flamboyant man with the colored hair who stepped up next. Tsuna wondered if there would be trouble when he faced what was obviously one of the arcobaleno, but when Mammon turned out to be an illusionist Tsuna just winced and hoped Hibari would let him get away in the end. He was pretty sure he would. Mostly sure, anyway. Probably.

"Um. Does Hibari not like illusionists?" Tazio asked, cautiously, a few seconds later, over Mammon's chopped-off grunt as the first tonfa found him.

"He's still pretty mad at Mukuro," Tsuna sighed, clinging to the wall with his eyes closed as the floor disappeared. He opened them again when he heard the crack and thump. "I think he's kind of taking it out on this one."

"You were totally right, Boss," Tazio told Xanxus with assurance as Hibari chased Mammon across the room. "This guy will like the Varia."

Xanxus just snorted.

In the quiet after Mammon disappeared, though, the person who stepped up next was an old man. Tsuna glanced over at Xanxus and Squalo, who had straightened a little and were watching closely.

"So," the old man said, looking Hibari up and down. "You're strong. That's good. Seems like you can think while you fight, and that's better. But you're not mafia. Why do you want to serve the Vongola to begin with?"

Hibari gave him a blank look. "Serve?" He pointed at Xanxus. "He said I could find the best here."

"Is that all that matters to you?" the old man asked quietly, and a chilly crinkle ran up Tsuna's spine.

Hibari actually paused and seemed to be considering it. Finally he smiled. He gestured with his chin at Xanxus. "He'll make something that works properly. I approve of that."

The old man's brows were raised as he glanced at Xanxus. "Are you sure about this, boy?"

Xanxus was trading an extremely sharp smile with Hibari. "Yeah. He's the one I want." He shrugged impatiently when the eyebrows stayed up. "He'll keep everyone on their toes. Me too."

"All right," the old man sighed. "It won't be official until I'm satisfied he's not actually crazy, but all right." He gathered up the other people in the room with one look and announced. "The Varia has a prospective new boss. See about it."

The room broke up into excited conversation, some of them crowding around Hibari, though not too close, and a few, who Tsuna privately considered the smartest, heading for Kusakabe.

Squalo pushed away from the wall and stretched, grinning. "So. Is it lunch time yet?" Tsuna laughed a little, helplessly, knowing that Hibari would agree completely with that casual attitude, and that Yamamoto probably would too.

Maybe he'd have lunch with Gokudera, for his daily dose of sane-person.

With Hibari settled in, for Hibari-values of the concept, Tsuna had a few days of relative quiet to actually learn to navigate the huge House. He supposed it wasn't any harder than learning his neighborhood, at home, he just had to learn it faster.

Knowing full well that Reborn was waiting in every office or sitting room he had to find, perfectly willing to shoot him if he was late, lent something extra to the effort, of course.

"Don't you have other things to do these days?" he asked Reborn, panting a little as he dropped down into his chair.

"I don't leave jobs in the middle, and you're obviously not finished yet," Reborn told him over a sip of the poisonously strong coffee all the mafia appeared to favor.

A man Tsuna hadn't met before laughed. "You're a hard task-master, Reborn! No vacations, even?"

"Certainly none of the kind you would recognize."

Since that resulted in a certain amount of laughing and elbowing, Tsuna wasn't entirely surprised when the man was introduced as Michele Rizzo, the Ninth's Sun Guardian. He'd definitely gotten the impression that Michele and Kyouko's brother had a certain approach to life in common.

Xanxus shifted impatiently in his own chair. "Screw Reborn, I have better things to be doing."

The dark look that flickered over Michele's cheerful face caught Tsuna's attention.

"You have nothing better than the business of this Family to be doing."

The spark that lit in Xanxus' eyes made Tsuna wince. Clearly this was another person Xanxus didn't deal well with. And apparently vice versa.

"Your business," the sneer that accompanied that said volumes about Xanxus' opinion of Michele's 'vacation' activities, "is none of mine."

Michele slapped a hand down on the table. "Damn it, when are you going to take some responsibility and do this job right? If Federico had..."

"Michele," the Ninth said firmly, and Michele bit off the rest of it, but Xanxus was already leaning over the table, teeth bared.

"Where the fuck do you get off talking to me about responsibility, or about Federico? You're so cock-proud of all your damn bastards, but your precious son couldn't keep the boss you really wanted alive, could he? Who should be taking the responsibility for that?!" Michele started up from his chair at that, and Squalo was moving forward from where he'd been leaning against the wall, and Tsuna wondered a little despairingly just how often Xanxus and his father's men had to be pulled off each other.

From the weary slump of the Ninth's shoulders and the resignation in the tight set of Squalo's mouth, he didn't think he'd like the answer to that.

"They're both dead now, and after all Federico did for you you're just going to throw away everything they worked for!" Michele was almost shouting, and Tsuna could hear the pain behind what he said, it was clear in every gesture.

The old, dark pain in the hunch of Xanxus' shoulders was louder to him, though, and that was what had brought him here in the first place. He hesitated, but this was exactly the kind of thing he was starting to realize he would keep needing to do for a long time and it wouldn't get any shorter for delaying. He let the still calm that Reborn had taught him was the first unfolding of his Will rise.

"Rizzo-san." Tsuna's voice cut across them, and he took a slow breath as everyone turned to look at him, reminding himself to use Italian. "That wasn't what Xanxus said. And it wasn't what he meant either," he said, quietly.

Xanxus stiffened. "Sawada," he said, low and harsh, and Tsuna saw the alarm behind his frown, the fear of what Tsuna's intuition would pull into the open.

"It serves nothing for them not to know," he said quietly, and waited, watching Xanxus, watching him understand that Tsuna was waiting for his consent.

Xanxus growled out a curse and flung himself up out of his chair, stalking out of the room with tight shoulders. Squalo gave Tsuna a distinctly "better you than me" look and followed him. Tsuna watched him go with a tiny, wry smile, at least until Michele made an indignant sound behind him.

"Why that little...!"

"No," Tsuna said low, turning back. "You don't understand. That was Xanxus telling me that I can say whatever I feel I need to."

Michele frowned at him, obviously not making the connection and Tsuna sighed.

"Xanxus doesn't set his heart out where people can find it easily. You're not like that, I can see," and he could see a faint flicker of startlement as Michele met his eyes, "but this is Xanxus. When he said that he blamed you in some part for Federico's death, what he meant was that he loved Federico too. The thing he most cares about is the one he'll try to ignore. When he turns his back, that's when you know he's listening."

Michele scrubbed a hand through his hair. "That's insane," he said, rather plaintively.

"Actually," Rafaele put in, looking enlightened, "that's one of the best descriptions I've ever heard of Xanxus in a nutshell."

"How am I supposed to deal with someone who's all backward like that?" Michele demanded, aggrieved.

"He isn't asking you to deal with him," Tsuna pointed out. "What he wants is for you to understand him. He won't believe in it, but that's what he wants." He stood and nodded politely to the older men and turned to go look for Xanxus, because he was only half done with today's work. And today's work was only the beginning. The nonplussed expressions on almost every face told him it would be a long project, reconciling Xanxus to the Family he was inheriting and vice versa, though he did take some encouragement from Rafaele's soft, rueful snort as he left.

Tsuna checked both Xanxus' rooms and the east terrace before finally running him down in his office. Squalo opened the door at his tap and waved him inside after a long look, slipping out himself. Tsuna smiled, warmed by that silent vote of confidence. "Xanxus," he said quietly.

Standing looking out the window, Xanxus stirred but didn't answer. Tsuna took a deep breath and let it out.

"I'm not going to stop, you know."

A harsh laugh shook Xanxus' shoulders. "I got that part, yeah."

"If I'm going to be your outside adviser, my job is to see the things you don't isn't it?" Tsuna stepped softly closer.

"Is it your job to share them with the whole world?" Xanxus asked tightly.

"It's my job to use what I see however will serve you and the Family best." That much, Tsuna was sure of, from the things Reborn had said about how Tsuna's father served the Ninth.

Xanxus just growled, one hand curling into a fist against the window.

Tsuna watched him, thinking again about the things Reborn had told him about the First and the Vongola traditions; about the things his father had told him of the Ninth and his ideals on the few occasions Tsuna had been able to pin him down about the Vongola Family; about what he knew of Federico, the brilliant son who'd been the first to accept Xanxus, and of Xanxus' past. Intuition stirred again, and he thought that no one who'd been beaten down that hard would believe in kindness or care he couldn't see and touch. Tsuna understood that. He also understood, a little, when Reborn and his father insisted that the Family was everything, but he thought neither he nor Xanxus was here just to protect an ideal. Finally he said, quiet, "I'll serve the Family, yes. But I came here for you. Not for an abstraction." He crossed the office and folded his hands around Xanxus' fist, tugging it away from the window as Xanxus looked around at him, startled.

"Sawada, what...?" Xanxus broke off as Tsuna knelt down at his feet, lifted his hand, and brushed his lips over Xanxus' knuckles.

Tsuna knew the history of the gesture; it was one of the things he'd pried out of his father after quite a few beers one night had turned the conversation sentimental. It wasn't the Ring Xanxus wore that he kissed, it was his hand—the man and not the office. From the sharp intake of breath, he knew Xanxus had understood.

He stood up and looked at Xanxus steadily. "Not for an abstraction," he repeated.

Xanxus stared at him, for once shocked out of any defensive temper, and Tsuna smiled up at him quietly. Xanxus finally recovered himself enough to scowl, and added a growl for good measure when Tsuna laughed softly.

"Yes, Boss," Tsuna agreed to that unspoken acceptance.

This was his job and his place, and he had a good grip on it now.

After the upsets that most of the Family provided, Tsuna found CEDEF unexpectedly restful. Most of them even seemed sane.

"So," Yamamoto said, tipping his chair back on two legs, teacup cradled between his hands, "we're not part of the Vongola but we work for them?"

"Essentially," Oregano agreed. "You might think of us almost as an allied Family." She smiled. "Though a very small one."

"And, like the Varia, we answer directly to the Vongola boss," Turmeric added.

Tsuna sketched a few more lines on his growing table of organization and shook his head at the spaghetti-mess it was. "This all seems awfully complicated. We're separate, but the head of CEDEF has to know everything that's going on because he might have to take over as second-in-command, or even act for the Vongola boss at any second!" Why had he thought this was a good idea, again?

"When loyalty and betrayal are two sides of one coin," his dad said quietly, arms folded against the table, "the outside adviser is also the person the boss knows is absolutely loyal to him."

Tsuna thought about Xanxus, and his hands, which had been nervously turning the pencil over and over, stilled. "Yes," he agreed softly.

"So what kind of work do we do?" Yamamoto asked, breaking the silence, and Tsuna smiled gratefully at his friend. Yamamoto would always bring life back to the practical.

"Lots of things," Oregano said. "Scouting, negotiations, courier work... Anything that needs a touch of authority but that the boss or the heir shouldn't be seen doing."

Yamamoto laughed. "Anything the Vongola are interested in, but don't want to look interested in?" He cocked his head at the older members. "Or anything they want to show an interest in but only sideways?"

Oregano blinked and Turmeric nodded slowly. "That's a very good way to put it." He smiled faintly. "I won't be surprised if you get sent out often for negotiation."

"Anything I can do to help out," Yamamoto agreed, cheerfully, causing everyone to look twice at him and Tsuna to grin wryly. He supposed it took a little while to get used to Yamamoto.

"Yamamoto-san?" Basil's voice drifted up the stairs.

"Up here," Yamamoto called back. Basil ran lightly up and through the door.

"Lal Mirch is, ah..." He hesitated.

"Yamamoto!" Lal's voice didn't drift so much as march. "You're late for training, get your sorry ass down here!"

"Impatient," Basil finished.

A huge grin spread over Yamamoto's face. "Yes, Lal," he called back, lilting. "Coming." He turned the grin on Tsuna. "Want to watch? She said she'd make an obstacle course for me today."

"Better you than me," Tsuna said fervently, though he got up to follow after Yamamoto willingly enough.

The rest of CEDEF trailed along, and Tsuna relaxed at the warmth of their obvious amusement. He liked this feeling, of being accepted, being one of them. He liked that they took Yamamoto's enthusiasm as much in stride as they did Lal's hard-as-nails dedication and cutting sarcasm.

It was still a little weirder that his dad was involved, but he'd just have to manage that.

This time, Lal had made the course for Yamamoto on one of the open hillsides beyond the House. It appeared to involve explosives, as well as traps and obstacles, and Tsuna shook his head ruefully as they watched Yamamoto fling himself into it, leaping and slinking and ducking.

And laughing, when he had the breath.

Lal was a demanding trainer. She reminded Tsuna a lot of Reborn, that way, only with less bland-faced evil and more shouting. She accepted no excuses and she drove anyone who fell under her influence without a hint of mercy. Tsuna could tell that she was just a little bemused that Yamamoto seemed to enjoy that.

"Swords really do make you crazy," a new voice said, behind Tsuna, and he turned to smile at Gokudera.

"Did you help Lal make the course today?" The occasional explosions did suggest it.

"Yeah." Gokudera's eyes were fixed on Yamamoto's progress, rather darkly. Tsuna's smile gentled.

"Yamamoto likes pushing himself, and stretching as far as he can go," he explained, the way he hadn't quite had the nerve to yet, to Lal. "He didn't used to get much opportunity for that, I think."

"Doesn't look much like he's stretching," Gokudera observed, still sounding rather sour. He added, far quieter, enough so that Tsuna wasn't sure he'd been supposed to hear, "Does everything come easy to him?"

Tsuna looked at Gokudera a lot more sharply, suddenly wondering.

Yamamoto came out the other end of the course, smoking and bruised but still grinning, to face Lal's critique. It was loud enough to be heard up the hill and included a lot of terms like "reckless damn idiot" and "charging in like a thundering elephant", and Yamamoto bobbed his head with earnest attention to each one. Tsuna's mouth quirked, rueful; Lal was taking a little longer then most of CEDEF to catch on to Yamamoto's sense of humor. Gokudera, who Tsuna suspected hadn't gotten it yet either, growled and stalked down the hill to join them. He gestured sharply at the course and then at Yamamoto and planted his hands on his hips, glaring. Yamamoto spread his hands innocently, but Tsuna noticed that his smile had turned more sincere and less teasing.

This time Tsuna was really watching, and so this time he also noticed the way that blunted the fine edge of Gokudera's irritation.

Before he could consider the implications of that too deeply, though, Turmeric moved up to stand next to him, and Tsuna turned his attention to the older man. When Turmeric said something it was usually worth listening to.

"Takeshi will be very good at negotiations, here. It's something you should probably keep in mind."

Tsuna laughed. "Yeah, I don't know anyone else who can keep smiling like he does."

"That's not quite what I mean," Turmeric said quietly. "It will be an advantage, yes; but his real strength at the table will be, well..." Turmeric's mouth quirked a bit as he looked down the hill to where Lal and Yamamoto and Gokudera were walking the course, arguing and gesturing over bits of it, "his strength."

Tsuna looked up, curious. "What do you mean?"

Turmeric looked out over the hills for a moment, and when he spoke he sounded a little distant and maybe even a little sad. "Negotiations, in our world, are not always a matter of reason. Maybe not even often. Unless you have the strength to win it as a battle, you won't usually win it at the table, either. A successful negotiator is a threat." He finally looked down at Tsuna, serious. "Takeshi will be the threat in your hand."

Tsuna flinched from that, lips pressed tight. "I don't want," he started, only to break off as Turmeric rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you don't. And we like you for that, Tsuna. But I also know you'll do it when you have to. And that," he finished, gently, "is why we also trust you."

Tsuna took a deep breath and let it out. "If I have to," he agreed, low.

That was the promise he'd given Xanxus, and now he understood it was the promise he had to give the people who would work under him.

"Whatever I have to do," he said quietly, looking up at the House above them.

Another day, another meeting. Tsuna was starting to feel like he'd taken on that civil service job the school counselor had kept hopefully suggesting, after all.

"Those Pozzo Nero assholes won't back off until we make them!"

With some significant differences, of course.

"We might at least try to negotiate first," Gianni answered Xanxus, rather dryly.

"Why?" Maria asked, with a glint in her eye that looked just like the one in Xanxus'.

"Because we aren't the Pozzo Nero; we're the Vongola," Paulo said firmly.

"That doesn't mean rolling over and being nice to scum," Tazio shot back just as firmly.

Xanxus leaned forward, hand closed into a fist on the table. "I'll negotiate with them the way they understand," he growled.

Tsuna stifled a sigh. Why did he always get to be the reasonable one? "Xanxus," he put in, "they are in the middle of a city." A city full of innocent bystanders that might be caught in the fire. And if they were, that would be very bad for Xanxus, even if Xanxus didn't seem to understand that yet.

Xanxus turned to look at him and Tsuna's thoughts froze. He suddenly felt like he'd stepped off the edge of a cliff without realizing it. Xanxus' eyes on him were cold and shuttered.

"So what?" he asked, low and vicious, and cut his hand at Gianni and Paulo, somehow including Tsuna in the gesture. "I know what the fuck I'm doing, and I'm not going to let them get away with the same shit the goddamn Cetrulli pulled!"

The magnitude of his misstep cut off Tsuna's voice. He hadn't meant to take their side against Xanxus! But of course, now, too late, he could see clear as day that that's how it would look to Xanxus. And not just Xanxus; even Tazio was frowning at him. So Tsuna did the only thing he could think of that might calm Xanxus down.

"Yes, Boss," he murmured, bowing his head.

After a moment Xanxus made a wordless, frustrated sound and turned to look at the Ninth, who sighed.

"You make a strong case. Very well."

Tsuna stood slowly as the meeting broke up, still a little shaken. He wasn't quite sure what to do now.

It was almost comforting when Reborn landed on his shoulder and cuffed him across the back of the head. "Idiot."

"Shut up, I know already," Tsuna muttered, watching Xanxus and Squalo disappearing through the far door.

"So, what are you waiting for?"

Tsuna blinked at Reborn, who smiled faintly.

"You're his adviser, aren't you?"

Xanxus' adviser, yes. The one who'd promised to stand by him. The world snapped back into place and Tsuna took a deep breath and smiled back. "I'm waiting for some privacy."

Reborn hopped down onto the table. "Well, then."

Tsuna slipped past Maria as politely as he could, trying not to flush at her sardonic glance, and out into the hall. He wasn't entirely surprised to find Xanxus, just one corner away, leaning up against the wall with his arms folded tight and Squalo speaking to him, low and intent. Squalo looked up and his mouth tightened. Tsuna ducked his head apologetically, and Squalo rolled his eyes and beckoned with a quick jerk of his head.

Xanxus noticed that and looked up, expression freezing again the instant he saw Tsuna.

"Boss," Tsuna protested, taking the last few steps quicker. "I said it for you, not for them!"

Xanxus' shoulders hunched faintly, and Tsuna reached out, resting a hand on Xanxus' chest.

"I swear," he said, softly. "It's you I'm thinking of."

"Me, huh? Nothing about all those civilians in that city?" Xanxus asked, low and edgy, not looking at him.

"Them too," Tsuna agreed, easily. "But I can tell you one thing I wasn't thinking of at all, and that's that you'd be careless. Or screw up. Or not succeed."

"That's three things," Xanxus said after a moment, but the line of his shoulders had relaxed, and Tsuna smiled.

"They count as one."

Xanxus looked at him now, with the kind of exasperation Tsuna often saw; it was very welcome, and his smile got more cheerful. Xanxus snorted and shrugged his hand off, straightening. "If you want to help, go pry Hibari and Ceirano away from each other and bring them down to my office. We have planning to do."

"Yes, Boss," Tsuna murmured, just a little teasing, and slipped off down the hall, grinning, when Xanxus growled at him. The grin faded a bit as he paced down halls and stairs toward the practice rooms.

He would have to be more careful, from now on.

Tsuna sat in the outer room of the suite he'd been given and chewed the end of his pen as he sorted his words. It was turning out to be more difficult than he'd expected, when he wrote to Kyouko. He didn't want to alarm her, but if he didn't say anything about the dangers here her next letter might just inform him that she'd bought a plane ticket.

He'd attempted to suggest that she might like to simply stay in Japan, the way his mother did, instead of eventually joining him in Italy. She'd smiled at him sweetly and told him not to be silly, and there'd been just enough edge under the softness of her voice that he'd never mentioned the idea again.

He was trying to find some un-alarming way to mention that Hibari had had another go at Mukuro today, and a sparring match with Yamamoto after that had certainly alarmed Tsuna, when someone knocked on his door. "Come in!" he called with momentary relief.

It turned to curiosity when his visitor turned out to be Paulo Gemello. He hadn't spoken very often to Paulo, though he struck Tsuna as quite like Turmeric—quiet but thoughtful. Tsuna fetched his guest a drink, still getting used to the sideboards everywhere, and looked inquiring.

Paulo turned his glass in his hands, looking down at it. "I wanted to ask you something, man to man," he said finally.

Tsuna made the sort of generally acknowledging noise one made to such a vague statement.

"We haven't worked with you long, but it's already clear you're a kind young man. You take thought for the people who might be hurt. You hold on to your optimism, even in this world. Those are good qualities."

Tsuna felt a 'but' coming, and reflected ruefully that the Ninth's Guardians seemed to have a lot of attitudes in common with the Tenth's, really.

"I have to wonder," Paulo said slowly, "if that gives you as clear a view of Xanxus as you'll need."

Tsuna sat very still for a long moment, feeling a chill uncurl in his stomach. He found himself wanting to point out that "nice" did not mean "fool". To point out that it was this old suspicion that made Xanxus so volatile. But that would not, he thought, make Paulo understand. He looked at Paulo, really looked, seeing the tense lines around his mouth, the unhappy tightness of his eyes, and felt his stillness sliding into the calm of intuition.

So what he said, instead, was, "Why did the Ninth lie to Xanxus?"

Paulo stiffened, abruptly frowning.

"You're angry," Tsuna said quietly, watching him. "You don't like it that I should accuse the Ninth of doing something like that. Even though it's true."

"Of course I don't, he's my Boss and I protect his honor as well as his life," Paulo stated firmly.

Tsuna cut off whatever he'd been going to say next with, "Then why do you think it's acceptable to accuse my Boss to me?"

Paulo blinked at him, startled out of his anger. "I... But..." He took a deep breath and set his hands on his knees, quiet for a moment. "I see," he said finally.

"Do you still have doubts about my perception?" Tsuna asked.

After a moment, Paulo's mouth quirked up. "Perhaps not. That was an effective demonstration."

Tsuna sat back with a sigh, releasing the tautness of seeing that way. "I didn't choose this work just because it's what my dad does, or because Reborn insisted. I chose it because I met Xanxus and saw how badly he'd been hurt, and that I could do something to help. That's what I'm here for. So yes, I look for ways to keep the innocent out of harm's way. And I believe we can succeed in protecting what's important without losing ourselves. Because those are the things I need to do to help Xanxus, and the Family." He hesitated a moment and added, half apologetically, "I'm afraid the way some of you are with him really doesn't help."

Paulo ran a hand through his hair. "I don't understand Xanxus," he admitted. "My brother says he does, but I honestly don't see how. And I certainly don't see how someone as kind and," he smiled a bit wryly, "as clear-sighted as you can give him your loyalty when he doesn't give his back."

Tsuna stared at him startled. "He does, though!" Paulo's look of puzzlement made him laugh a little, helplessly. "He does. He'd rather be hung by his toes than say it out loud, but surely you've watched him with his people? Seen how protective he is of the Family?"

"Possessive, maybe," Paulo muttered.

"Well, yes, that's where it starts," Tsuna admitted. "Xanxus protects what's his. Maybe that isn't the way everyone does it, but if it works why does that matter?" Paulo hesitated, and Tsuna added, softly, "If you hold the past against him, we're going to need to talk about who else made the mistakes that led to it."

Paulo's mouth tightened, but there was a glint of respect in the look he gave Tsuna. "Well. As long as you can tell me you'll watch over him, I'll do my best to let it go."

Tsuna smiled, quiet and serene. "You have my word." And if he meant to watch over Xanxus in a different way than Paulo meant it, he didn't really think he needed to say so right now.

Reborn, he reflected with a secret grin, would probably approve.

Two months after arriving, Tsuna had asked, a bit anxiously, whether the property damage bill from Hibari's training with the Varia would be a problem. Squalo had stared at him for a long, blank moment and then burst out laughing. Watching Xanxus and Hibari fight, and eyeing the rubble and splinters they left behind them, Tsuna finally understood why.

"Now, you see, he has the right attitude," Ceirano said as Hibari ducked under Xanxus' fire to drive the end of his tonfa into Xanxus' stomach. "If a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing all the way."

"I thought that was 'worth doing right'," Tsuna ventured.

"That's what I said." Ceirano suddenly sounded distracted, though, and a moment later he strolled off. Looking after him, Tsuna saw Reborn sitting on the terrace rail watching Xanxus and Hibari.

Tsuna shook his head, a bit bemused that anyone, even another hitman, would court a training session with Reborn on purpose. Though he supposed he wasn't really surprised that Xanxus' Guardians all shared with him a certain cheerful bloodthirstiness.

"Barbarians, the lot of them," Mukuro murmured behind his shoulder.

Each in their own way, of course. "Mukuro," Tsuna greeted him, turning a little.

Mukuro looked him up and down. "And not even an apology for entangling me with them."

"That wasn't my idea!" Tsuna defended himself roundly. "That was my dad; I would never have thought of doing anything so crazy."

"Ah. So you, sensible creature that you are, would only think of doing something like coming after a notorious criminal with a pitiful one or two followers. Oh, yes, and a baby." Mukuro gave him a silky smile. "You match the likes of Xanxus very well after all."

"I'm glad to see you're settling in here, with him," Tsuna offered.

Mukuro raised a supercilious brow. "And what, precisely gave you the impression that I am?" he asked coolly. "I am merely..." The other brow went up. "Sawada?"

Tsuna finally got a hold of himself and managed to stop laughing. "Ah. Sorry." He wiped his eyes. "It's just you sound so much like him."

Mukuro actually blinked at him. "Like who?"

"Like Xanxus," Tsuna smiled. "You sound just like him when he's trying not to admit he likes something." He paused a moment, considering. "Only with more syllables."

"Mukuro?" he ventured after a moment when Mukuro just stood and stared at him, perfectly still.

Abruptly he wasn't talking to Mukuro any more. Chrome wobbled a little as she regained her own feet, catching her balance on the arm Tsuna quickly held out.

"Just like," Tsuna murmured, mouth quirked.

Chrome looked at him, grave and quiet. "Mukuro-sama takes care that we are well."

Since that could have been either agreement, that Mukuro wasn't fooling anyone with his careless pose, or a warning, that Mukuro wouldn't brook any interference from Tsuna, and Tsuna really couldn't tell which, he just nodded. The very faint smile that flickered around the corners of Chrome's mouth as she turned away made him wonder if it was actually both. He supposed no one could have Mukuro in her head so much and not grow subtle herself.

Sometimes he just had to look around and wonder how a normal guy like him had ended up here.

Tsuna had never been a fan of parties, even, or especially, in his own honor, and despite the dangers of the mafia world he couldn't help a tiny, wistful wish that Kyouko had come this year instead of next. She was much better at these things. He, on the other hand, was eventually reduced to hiding in a corner with his drink.

Rafaele looked faintly amused when he found Tsuna there. "So," he leaned against the wall beside him, "how is your debut going?"

Tsuna gave him a dour look. Despite their difference in years and nationality, Rafaele reminded him an awful lot of Yamamoto sometimes. "It's going just fine," he said, repressively.

Rafaele laughed softly.

"Though it does seem as though everyone expects me to be crazy." Tsuna cast an eye over the Vongola allies moving through the room, chatting with each other, many trying to keep one eye on him and another on Xanxus, and muttered into his glass, "I really hope that someday everyone realizes just how hard they're making my job."

Rafaele sighed and when he spoke again his voice was far more serious. "We're trying to understand, Tsuna. That much I can promise you." He rested a hand on Tsuna's shoulder. "It's good that you've come."

Tsuna studied his drink again. "I wish," he said softly, "that it didn't take waving someone who's obviously harmless in people's faces to make them take a second look at Xanxus."

"First of all, I very much doubt anyone trained and approved by Reborn is harmless." When Tsuna looked up, Rafaele's tilted smile matched the briskness of his tone. "And second, you might consider it a compliment to Xanxus. All his hard work in keeping us from thinking he might feel gently for the Family paid off."

Tsuna frowned stubbornly. "No. That isn't a compliment. He hides it out of fear, and for his own family not to notice is..." he couldn't quite think of a right word that wouldn't be insulting and finished a bit lamely, "a bad thing."

Rafaele was quiet for a moment, eyes dark and unfathomable. "You're right," he said finally. His stillness broke into a wry snort. "I don't know how we'll manage to deal with someone who's trying very hard to deny all of this, but we'll just have to find a way."

Tsuna looked out over the room. "He can't possibly be the only difficult person any of you have ever had to deal with." His eyes fell on Yamamoto and Gokudera, apparently arguing. Or at least Gokudera was arguing, waving his hands vigorously enough to endanger unwary passers-by. Yamamoto was just listening, perfectly attentive, and smiling.

Speaking of difficult.

"He certainly isn't," Rafaele sighed. "But after Timoteo he's... disconcerting. I'm grateful we have Squalo around too, you know."

Tsuna, watching Gokudera glare, was reminded of his comments about sword-idiots all communicating in their own universal language and stifled a snort of amusement. Catching another wary glance from one of the men in the room turned it into a sigh. "If you don't want this Family alliance of yours falling apart because everyone is afraid the heir is a mad dog, you need to stand behind him," he said bluntly, suddenly tired of trying to put it more delicately.

Maybe he'd been with Reborn too long.

"You make a good case," Rafaele murmured. "I'll speak with the others."

"Thank you," Tsuna said softly.

Rafaele patted his shoulder again and strolled off, elegant and casual as always, and Tsuna sighed with relief as eyes drew away from him to follow Rafaele instead. He'd known this wasn't going to be a simple job from the start, and after a bare week here he'd known it was a bigger one than he'd thought, too. But at least he felt like he'd made a good start on it.

He glanced back over at Yamamoto just in time to see him catch one of Gokudera's waving hands before it smacked a passing ally. Gokudera didn't seem to notice, though Yamamoto's eyes were dancing with silent amusement. He was glad that Yamamoto was settling in, too, and only hoped that Kyouko would find it as easy when she joined him. He didn't think he could have handled it to know following him into this job had made his friends and loved ones unhappy.

Gokudera finally noticed that Yamamoto hadn't let go of his hand, animated words and gestures trailing off into startled quiet. Tsuna smiled and turned to move through the room again, nodding and speaking calmly to the Family allies as they slowly came closer.

It was a good start.

End

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter One

In which Kakashi sees Sasuke in a new way and gives him a rather different lecture after his fight with Naruto on the hospital roof. Drama, Action, I-3

A number of things in the second part of Naruto never made sense to me. Itachi's sudden retconning into a good guy, despite the stunning and villain-consistent cruelty of his previous treatment of Sasuke was the biggest one. The abrupt shift of the story from a classic shounen bildungsroman focused on team-building to convoluted politics involving Naruto's solitary apotheosis was another. But the thing that just niggled at me was the utterly ham-handed way everyone, and especially Kakashi, handled the aftermath of Sasuke's confrontation with his brother. So what, I wondered, what if Kakashi had shown the common sense god gave a small chicken, had shown any of his normal perceptiveness, in handling Sasuke after Sasuke's set-to with Naruto on the hospital roof? What if Sasuke hadn't left after all? What would it make of the characters, if they stayed a team for longer? And what if the story remained one about a human's need for others? This is my answer.

Note on translation: I have translated Iwagakure, the hidden village of Earth Country, as "Hidden Rock" rather than "Hidden Stone", so as to distinguish it from Ishigakure, the hidden village of the unnamed country between Wind and Earth. I have also translated kekkei genkai as "bloodline talent", rather than "bloodline limit", because the grammatical incorrectness of that makes my soul itch and the most meaningful literal translation ([contextual noun] limited to inheritance by blood) does not make a suitable noun phrase in English.

So: We pick up midway in the manga, just after the confrontation on the roof, just after Sasuke has thrown off in a snit. Lights. Camera. Action!

Kakashi eyed the tree where Sasuke had finally dug himself in after vanishing from the hospital roof and stifled a sigh. Every team, he reminded himself, was its own unique experience. It was only his imagination that this year's Seven was deliberately working to be especially so.

He climbed quietly up on Sasuke from behind, and really the boy needed to break that habit of ignoring his surroundings when he brooded. At least he'd put his back to something solid this time. Kakashi supposed that was progress of sorts. "Hey."

Silence. Not even a twitch among the dappled, gold leaf shadows.

Kakashi found a branch a quarter turn around the tree, leaned on the trunk, and propped a casual foot against it—the better to propel himself out of the way if Sasuke lost it again and went for Kakashi like he had for Naruto. "You shouldn't really be out of the hospital yet," he tried, speaking from his own lingering aches and twinges. Itachi's Tsukuyomi had lasting after-effects, which, he was guessing, had been a lot of the reason for the fight. "The medics get upset about losing track of a patient."

More silence. Kakashi mentally checked down the list of approaches that had already failed in the last twenty-four hours, and settled on a blatant appeal to sentiment. Surely there must still be a little of that, after the past year.

"People worry, you know."

"Then they don't understand," Sasuke finally answered, flat.

A flash of familiar exasperation tightened Kakashi's mouth behind his mask, but he didn't think an admonition to grow up already would go over very well right now. Not right after Sasuke had faced his brother and been reminded of that bloody night all over again.

Actually... maybe that was the best place to start after all. To show that someone did understand. Now he thought about it, maybe he should have started there a year ago. At the time, he hadn't known just how much Sasuke himself had seen that night; he should have re-evaluated when he'd found out.

"I was ANBU then, you know. I was on the squad that was sent out to hunt Itachi that night," he said, staring out through the branches and over the roofs of the nearby apartments, seeing again the blood spattered and pooled relentlessly all the way across a compound that took up a sixth part of the village. "We started from the compound, to see if we could pick up any hints of where he might be going." And every member of the squad had come back from that mission dead-eyed, cold down to the marrow. Two had turned in their masks that year; Kakashi had been one of them.

"They weren't your family."

A finger of cold slid down Kakashi's spine, because Sasuke's empty, even tone was a perfect match for the way most of the team had spoken that night, as they sifted bodies and parts of bodies for the track of madness. "No, they weren't." He took a breath against the memories, wondering what memories Sasuke was looking into, starting to be afraid that he'd drastically misjudged his own student's state of mind all this year. But the words reminded him of when it had been his parents, and that suggested another step he could take. Slowly, feeling his way into what this might mean, he said, "There are people in this village who have walked into blood and death like that. There are people who know the pain of betrayal by their own friends, their own team, even their own blood. There are people who fought for nothing but revenge, though not many who lived beyond it. They fought in the Third War." His voice was soft, now, realizing the truth at the same time he spoke it. "That's what you've seen. What you've been in since that night. War."

Leaves rustled beside him and he looked over to see Sasuke finally looking up at him. And maybe he knew how to answer the blankness in those eyes, now. "There are people in this village who know what that's like. And who can tell you some of how to survive it."

"I don't care if I survive," Sasuke cut back, low and intent, "as long as I kill Itachi."

Kakashi looked down at him, thoughtfully, for a long moment. He hadn't been able to turn Sasuke away from that determination. If he'd understood sooner where Sasuke's head and heart were, he might not even have tried. If this had been war time and a comrade had said that to him...

"Do you care if you die before you get to him?" he asked, cool. "That's where you're headed right now." In war... in war, he would even have let one of his squad members use a curse seal—just not unawares. Not without understanding exactly what it meant.

"I need more power!" Sasuke flared up. "It's always going to be a risk, but I need more!"

Kakashi leaned back against the tree, sure of his way now. "There's always more power to be had, if you look for it." He snorted as Sasuke stared at him. "Power isn't the hard part. What you need right now, to keep you alive long enough to strike your target, is an anchor."

"An anchor? What the hell good is something that holds me back going to do?!"

Kakashi waved a hand, increasingly cheerful as he exasperated his student further. Any emotion was an improvement right now—anything that got Sasuke out of that dead, blood-dripping place in his head. "You're thinking about it the wrong way. Not an anchor that you have to carry with you in a race. An anchor that can hold you against the current." He glanced down again, eye as dark and hard as it would be while he laid down mission parameters for one of his squads, and watched Sasuke go still in response. "You don't need to run toward revenge. Revenge is a rogue river in flood; it will take you to the end, like it or not. What you need is a way to not drown. Something to hang on to so you can pull yourself out when you're going under and dry off and rest your muscles before you dive in again." Because Sasuke would dive in again, he could see that now. Better to forge him the anchor and trust his own blind determination to make him use it to keep himself alive.

"You're talking about the team." Sasuke eyed him mistrustfully. Not a surprise, that, after his vicious little set-to with Naruto.

Kakashi shrugged. "Maybe. For some people it's their team. For some it's their family or a lover. For some it's the village. For some it's something as simple as a pet. The thing you fight for, fight to come back to. Without that, you'll drown and fail your mission."

Of course, it was his team, for Sasuke. He had nothing else but them. But better to let Sasuke figure that out on his own.

...on the other hand, and considering Sasuke, there was nothing wrong with a little bit of a hint.

"We put people in teams in the first place because no one person can do everything it takes to complete a mission. Everyone has their weaknesses. You need to get out of the current. Naruto needs to stop running off the edge of cliffs. Sakura needs to trust herself to move. But your weakness is also your strength. You focus. Naruto doesn't quit. And, because she stands still, Sakura sees more than either of you." He cocked his head at Sasuke. "I said power is always handy if you look around for it. The fastest way to find it isn't to ignore your weaknesses or even work to overcome them. It's to use them. And that," he added quietly, "is also the nature of war."

Sasuke was staring at him now, eyes slowly widening, focusing again on his one goal; the goal, again, not his stubborn, muddled idea of the means. Kakashi hid a smile to see that. Maybe it wasn't what would be healthy in a normal child, even a normal ninja child, but nothing in Sasuke's life was especially normal.

"Survive. Use anything." Abruptly Sasuke slammed a hand down on the branch under him, with such violence that it broke off and he had to cling to the trunk as it fell. He didn't seem to notice, hunched like one of Fire Country's great southern hunting cats against the tree. "That's why! That's why he said those things! So I wouldn't see it, so I wouldn't see how to win!"

"Who said?" Kakashi asked casually, hands poised to lock a knock-out seal around Sasuke if it turned out to be necessary.

"Itachi," Sasuke hissed. "Live, he said. 'Cling to your wretched life,' he said."

Kakashi took a slow breath, in and out through his nose, and knew anyone watching him right now would see exactly how angry he was, even with just one eye to judge from. So much for the imperturbable Hatake Kakashi. Of course, it was always his teams that had been able to get to him, too. "To make you ashamed of doing what any good shinobi would," he murmured. "To blunt your edge." This, though, was his chance to turn Sasuke in a new direction, to make sure he didn't charge blindly to his own destruction. He leaned abruptly around the turn of the tree and caught Sasuke's shoulder in a hard grip, turning the boy to look at him. "Are you going to let him?" he demanded harshly.

Sasuke straightened, and that black gaze burned back at him. "No."

Kakashi nodded, accepting his student's determination. "All right, then. Back to the hospital to get you checked, and checked out. And then..." he smiled suddenly, behind his mask. "Then we go and find Sakura."

Sasuke, who had already started to screw up his face in response to the part about the hospital, blinked. "...Sakura?" He'd probably expected Naruto; Kakashi wondered when those two would admit just how much they defined themselves by each other.

"Of course," Kakashi said, airly, waving Sasuke after him as he strolled back down the trunk. "I told you, you have a serious case of tunnel vision. You and Naruto are really very alike that way." He smirked at the faint growl behind him; it was a competitive growl, again, not an infuriated one. "What you need is strategy, and that's what Sakura is best at."

"So, what, I learn it from her?" Sasuke hazarded.

"Nope." Kakashi tilted his head back to look over his shoulder. "You learn to use that tunnel vision of yours, and you learn how to listen to her when she tells you where to aim it."

Sasuke followed along, frowning to himself. A considerable improvement over homicidal rage toward his teammates, Kakashi congratulated himself. Indeed, he had to work a little not to whistle cheerfully as he strode along, hands in his pockets. If they could just come together again, then next year his team was going to sweep the chuunin exam like a broom. And by then maybe the inkling in the back of his head, about how best to train them all, would have turned into an actual plan. He already had some thoughts about how it all needed to come together.

The only real question he could see was who would try to kill him first: Tsunade for the student he planned to give her, or Sasuke for the tutor Kakashi planned to give him.

As they turned down the dusty street to the hospital, he found himself whistling after all.

Four sets of eyes watched the two go, hidden among the leaves.

"Fuck," Tayuya spat, disgusted. "There goes our chance."

"The kid doesn't have to come willingly," Sakon murmured. "Orochimaru-sama just said to try that first, to keep it quiet. We'll keep watching for an opening."

They faded back into the shadows of the tiled roofs and were gone.

Kakashi and Sasuke stalked each other through the training ground, in and out of the trees, flickering through the shadows. Neither of them used any but physical techniques, for both of them had their Sharingan active. Sasuke had hesitated over that, but Kakashi wasn't about to let the enemy deprive one of his subordinates of his strongest weapon, and he'd waited calmly until Sasuke gave in to the logic of the exercise and activated his too. The chuunin exam had done his students good, Kakashi observed; he had yet to spot Sakura, who was mission control for this exercise. If she honed this talent for stillness of hers, she would be second to none at infiltration some day.

Of course, he had yet to spot Naruto either, but that was most likely because the note informing the boy of his team's renewed training was still chasing him around the village while he searched stubbornly for Sasuke.

He also hadn't seen Tsunade, and he expected to know the minute she got his other note, the one about modifying his currently assigned mission. He hoped Naruto would get here first, so he could start things back on track with his team before he had to explain his logic to his new Hokage.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Naruto dashed out of the edge of the trees and screeched to a halt, looking around a little wildly. "Kakashi-sensei!"

Kakashi signaled a break, tugging his forehead protector down over his eye again, and smiled to himself as Sasuke touched down across the clearing, wary. "There you are. You know, punctuality is very important to a shinobi; you should work on that." He let the smile show as both Sasuke and Naruto gave him identical looks of disbelief at the utter hypocrisy of Hatake Kakashi lecturing anyone on punctuality. It was important for a team to have common interests to bond over, after all.

The boys caught each other's eyes and looked away.

Predictably, it was Naruto who offered the first peace overture; Kakashi had only had to teach him once about the value of a team. He jammed his fists into his pockets and looked sidelong at Sasuke. "You done being a jerk yet?" he muttered.

Sasuke stiffened. "I'm not..." He broke off. Whatever self-deception Sasuke sometimes indulged in, Kakashi acknowledged, even he could recognize that magnitude of untruth when it started to come out of his mouth. Sasuke looked down, mouth tight. Finally, softly, he said, "No. Probably not until Itachi is dead."

At their age, that would have made Kakashi go bang his head against a rock a few times, but Naruto's face cleared at once. "Well okay. As long as you're just being a normal jerk."

Sasuke looked up at that, expression blank for a breath. Slowly, though, the blankness melted into something sardonic and challenging. More edgy than usual, but closer to his normal expression than they'd seen all week. "As long as you're being a normal idiot."

They smirked at each other and Kakashi really couldn't help rolling his eyes.

And in that sliver of distraction, Sakura popped out of her grass-covered dugout, eyes blazing in her dirt-smeared face, and slammed her hand down on a prepared seal. "Now!" she barked.

Sasuke whipped around in pure, unthinking response and drove a kunai toward Kakashi's diaphragm.

Startled, reacting from a cold start, snapshots of thought flashed through Kakashi's mind. Sakura had never stopped watching. Sasuke had never de-activated his Sharingan. His elbow was coming down on Sasuke's forearm with full force, and Sakura's seal was slowing his responses, and he didn't know if he could pull it in time—unintended consequences. The kunai kissed his ribs as he twisted. Sasuke wasn't going to recover his stance in time to deflect the elbow strike.

Naruto's foot struck his arm, pushing the blow harmlessly aside, and all three of them spun away from each other again.

Kakashi straightened, hand pressed to his ribs; the cut was shallow, but noticeable. "Well, now," he murmured, and broke into a smile. "That was a bit more like it."

Sakura actually punched the air with triumph before recalling herself and clasping her hands demurely. She couldn't erase the grin on her face, though, and Sasuke nodded what might be thanks to her. More hesitantly, he glanced over at Naruto. "Your timing's getting better," he offered gruffly.

Naruto had his hands squarely on his hips and was glaring. "And yours is getting worse! What the hell was that?"

"That," Kakashi intervened lightly, "was your new training regimen. To take advantage of your particular strengths and learn to use even your weaknesses." He cocked his head at Naruto. "You jumped right in without thinking or asking the first question, just like Sasuke took the opportunity that Sakura saw without caring for the consequences. And that's why this exercise worked."

"Huh." While Naruto worked through that, though, Sakura's grin had melted into a thoughtful frown.

"Isn't this a dangerous way to operate, Kakashi-sensei?" she asked, hesitant. "I mean... it will mean we're all getting even more unbalanced, as shinobi."

"Shinobi are unbalanced," Kakashi said quietly. "We teach you all of the basics that we can, but after that you have to start concentrating on what you're good at. And accepting what you're bad at. You just have to trust the team you're in to balance it out." He ruffled her hair with a wry, hidden smile behind his mask. "That's what reality is, Sakura. This is how it goes once you're out of the classroom."

Her pale eyes were shadowed as she looked up at him. "Oh," she said very softly. And then she took a breath and straightened her shoulders. "All right, then."

Sasuke was unquestionably a genius, and Naruto might well be the greatest idiot savant the world had ever seen, but Kakashi thought that, of all his students, Sakura might be the best shinobi in the end.

All four of them looked up as a cloud of birds suddenly rose from the administrative quarter of the village and a wordless yell drifted faintly over the trees. "Ah," Kakashi said brightly, "that would be my appointment with the Hokage."

Tsunade, fifth Hokage of Konohagakure, slapped a hand down on the scrap of paper in the middle of her desk, glaring daggers at Kakashi. "Explain," she growled.

"Team Seven was assigned to me so that I could keep an eye on both Naruto and Sasuke," Kakashi pointed out. "If I'm to fulfill that mission, already in progress, then I need to keep the team with me."

Tsunade crossed her arms and sat back, looking skeptical. "You know how shorthanded we are! And, while none of them were advanced to chuunin, they all demonstrated plenty enough power to start taking missions solo."

"As you said, none of them were advanced." Kakashi turned a hand palm up. "The final decider in that test is maturity, isn't it? Do you really want three people of their demonstrated power running around and not learning the maturity to wield it well?" He looked meaningfully out the window of her office, to where the mangled cisterns on top of the hospital were just visible.

Shizune, standing behind Tsunade's shoulder, grimaced. "Tsunade-sama, perhaps he's right. At this rate, there will be people thinking Naruto and Sasuke are already out of control."

"Mm." Tsunade laced long, fine fingers under her chin, elbows propped on the padded arms of her chair. "That isn't a nice thought. But neither is the idea of Cloud or Rock deciding to invade us because we're suddenly taking fewer contracts and must, therefore, be weakened. And they'd be right," she added, dourly. "Why the hell did I let that brat talk me into this?"

Hearing the helpless affection under her exasperation, Kakashi had to stifle a grin. Yes, he rather thought she'd agree to his tutoring plans a year from now. She'd yell about it, but she'd agree. "They are quite strong," he offered. "I can take on A and even some S rank missions, with them as my team."

She cocked a brow at him. "S rank?"

Kakashi hesitated, but she was, after all, Hokage now. She probably needed to know. "It will be beneficial if they face serious danger together. That's always been the circumstance under which they come together as a team and support each other. And if they don't come back to that, if Sasuke and Naruto, especially, don't remember how to trust each other again, we're going to lose Sasuke."

Shizune hissed between her teeth, and she reached out to clasp Tsunade's shoulder protectively. Tsunade's entire body had frozen, breath stilling, eyes icy. "He would go to Orochimaru?" she asked, very flat.

"That has become less likely," Kakashi said, picking his words carefully as he spoke to this, Orochimaru's old teammate. "Sasuke has some alternatives, now. I believe that he will pursue his course from within the village." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "But unless he can accept Naruto's and Sakura's support, he'll be killed when he finally confronts his brother."

"Damn Uchiha Itachi to reincarnation as a worm for a hundred lives," Tsunade muttered. "The village was already weakened by the death of the Uchiha clan, and now this!" She planted her elbows on the desk, fingers driven into her hair, and was silent for three breaths. "All right," she said, finally, not looking up. "The four of you are going to get the hardest, nastiest missions short of ANBU work, you realize that?"

"I planned for it," Kakashi agreed calmly. "If you can give me a week to settle them back into training, that will be useful."

She glared at him some more. "A week he wants! Why don't you ask me for the peaches of immortality while you're at it?" She flipped through the mess of binders on her desk, frowning ferociously, until Shizune extracted one quietly and handed it to her. "All right, you can have a week," she snapped, paging through it. "Not more! And then you'll leave directly for Tajimura, up north." She pulled out a red folder and tossed it across to him. "They've been having serious trouble with bandits, and the local garrison thinks that it's a band of missing-nin from Cloud and Mist." She gave him the tight smile of someone justifiably palming off a problem on someone else. "There could be as many as twenty in the band."

"I'm sure it will be a learning experience," Kakashi murmured as he read.

"And send both Naruto and Sasuke to me, before you go," she added. "I want to have a look at their seals. Jiraiya said that Naruto's had been interfered with, and I've got to find a way to undo that curse seal on Sasuke, too."

Kakashi nodded. "That seal really isn't a temptation I like put in the way of any genin, especially not one as driven as Sasuke. Not if there's any choice."

Her mouth twisted. "That too. But, more urgently I think, Mitarashi Anko plans to kill herself, rather than let hers be activated again."

A chill stroked down Kakashi's spine again. War. It might be coming to them again. "I'll tell them to see you," he agreed quietly.

"So?" Jiroubou asked. "What did it say?"

Sakon rolled the message strip into a tiny cylinder and breathed fire onto it. "It's from Kabuto. Orochimaru-sama couldn't hold out and had to transfer into a new body. It says if the Uchiha brat comes willingly, fine, but if he won't then look for a time we can take him without getting anyone on our trail." His mouth curled. "I suppose taking an unwilling host is distracting for a while. We should be polite and not lead any of Leaf back to Orochimaru-sama's doorstep."

"And this is all from Kabuto?" Tayuya asked, suspicious.

"Mm. I think, perhaps, we should go back and confirm our orders, if there isn't an opening soon."

The four of them looked at each other and nodded. No sense getting killed for it if this was really a scheme of the damn doctor's. And surely the Uchiha kid wouldn't be much harder to take, even if they waited a bit.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Two

In which Team Seven is on the road again, putting out fires for Konoha in the wake of the invasion and learning a little more about each other and themselves. Action, Drama, I-4

To: The Fifth
From: Kakashi
Re: Bandits

There weren't twenty of them; there were thirty. Fortunately, only sixteen of those were actually missing-nin. Unfortunately, three of the sixteen were jounin. Will be late getting home due to Naruto's broken leg, Sasuke's broken arm and ribs, Sakura's bruised kidneys and blood loss. Please have a medic and a new mission on hand. The only team-building they can do in the hopsital is pranks, and then Shizune will try to poison me again.

Journey breaks, these days, meant a chance to train more. Going out on their third mission in two months certainly drove home the urgency of their village's need for shinobi who were as strong as they could be, so Sakura didn't grudge it. Not that that seemed to be the consideration that drove the boys the hardest, of course.

"Show me that Rasengan some more. I want to watch it with the Sharingan and see how it works."

"Only if you show me how Chidori works."

"Not that you'll be able to do it, but fine."

Boys, Sakura thought in disgust, and tried to pretend that she wasn't just as interested in both techniques as they were. Kakashi-sensei had known what he was doing, teaching Sasuke Chidori, she decided, watching. It was a technique that required focus, something to cut and pierce at close range, tightly aimed. It was Sasuke all over.

She could see ways to use that.

She leaned back against her battered green pack, taking small sips from her water bottle. That was the kind of thought she would have tried to avoid a year ago. It still felt strange, to look at her teammates and see tactics instead of romantic candle-glow, or, in Naruto's case, a haze of furious red. But Kakashi-sensei said that kind of thinking was her strength and she should use it, build on it. He kept asking her to think of things that brought that way of seeing out. Part of her preened over being recognized as the brains of this team.

Part of her sulked that she wasn't being recognized as a strong arm, for the team.

She sighed and rolled over, tucking under her pack with a practiced curl for shelter from the rain of splinters as Chidori tore apart a tree. She was becoming a good shinobi; surely that was enough to satisfy anyone.

She rolled back up and watched again as Naruto prepared for the Rasengan.

Five minutes and another couple trees later, she was staring at Naruto thoughtfully, absently twisting the cap of her water bottle in her fingers. "It's not that you're good at this," she said, thinking out loud. "It's that you figure out ways to use the couple tools you've got, like the kage-bunshin, to do anything you need to."

"Sakura-chan!" Naruto protested. "I am so good at this!"

"No, she's got a point," Kakashi-sensei murmured from under his tree and behind his book. "The only reason the multiple shadow clone technique doesn't kill you is your chakra reserves. You took that fluke and made it work for you, though, even to mastery of an A-rank technique."

Sakura nodded. "That's what I meant. You... you don't see any limits on how you use what you've got." And she could use that, too. Naruto would never think there wasn't a way to do something; he'd always find one, just like Sasuke would never move off a target. And Sakura herself... well, she might as well admit it, she would always want to direct, and maybe, just maybe, she could now. That was a really nice thought. Sakura smiled at both the boys, suddenly excited in a new way that had nothing to do with either romance or anger. "We're going to be a really strong team."

Kakashi-sensei winked at her from behind his book.

To: The Fifth
From: Kakashi
Re: I have a bad feeling about this

I think someone is tracking us. I've sensed what I'm fairly certain is the same presence on two separate missions, now. Send someone to shadow us on the way in.

Naruto hadn't known what Kakashi-sensei meant when he'd grumbled about "government work" at the start of this job. He was starting to get it now, though. They were up in the Lightning Country, and they'd snuck past the border, which had actually been a lot of fun, and they were perched outside the fortress of the merchant lord they'd come to sink. The guy had an army of his very own, which wouldn't have been all that much of a problem since none of them were shinobi, but there were Cloud-nin mixed in there with them. Real Cloud-nin, not renegades or deserters! And Sakura-chan said that meant that all the bad things this merchant's shipping did to Fire shipping, like piracy and sinking and ships that just disappeared, was really done by the Lightning government, and so they absolutely couldn't let any of those Cloud-nin know it was them, Leaf-nin, who had come to destroy the guy's fleet.

That was the part Naruto didn't really understand. Wouldn't it be better to know that the Leaf wasn't going to stand for that? Sasuke rolled his eyes when Naruto said that, but that was just Sasuke being his natural jerk self and it didn't mean anything. Naruto was actually a little glad to see it. Sasuke was a lot more himself now they were out on missions again, all about training and getting stronger. That was the kind of thing Naruto understood, that was the kind of attitude he could get behind, because it meant they could all train together, and sometimes he could show Sasuke up, which made it a lot easier to take the times Sasuke showed him up. Though he wasn't completely sure Sasuke understood about that, and sometimes he got all brooding and shit, and then Naruto had to do Sexy no Jutsu at him to make him stop, and nearly getting a Chidori shoved up his nose was totally worth the look on Sasuke's face. But anyway, Sakura-chan said they had to keep it quiet, and he trusted her. She was definitely the smart one, maybe even smarter than Kakashi-sensei, because Sakura-chan was just that awesome.

But keeping it quiet was a lot less fun, and a lot more trouble.

"We need to destroy a minimum of three quarters of his ships, and definitely these five that are armored," Kakashi-sensei tapped the sketch of the harbor, spread on the shadowy brown floor of the pine grove they were camped in, "without letting the Cloud-nin get a look at us. Thoughts on how to accomplish that?"

"If we take a day to write out explosive seals, we could have enough to do all the ships," Sakura-chan suggested.

"We'd have to get them all set, a handful to a ship, within a very short time," Sasuke pointed out. "If any are found, it will start a search for more."

"Naruto's multiple Shadow Clone technique might do for that," Sakura-chan said, but she sounded doubtful, and Naruto pouted.

"I could totally do it," he said. "There aren't that many ships."

"You couldn't do it and be quiet," Sasuke declared. "You couldn't be quiet to save your life."

"More to the point," Kakashi-sensei cut in as Naruto scowled, "it's to save others. If you're discovered, you'll have to kill whoever spotted you. There's no other choice, on this mission. We've been active in the field for seven months straight, now, and we have to assume that Cloud has the means to recognize us, even though you're all technically genin and wouldn't normally be in the bingo books yet. They might even have shown pictures of the most likely operatives to the regular soldiers. We can't afford to be recognized."

After a long pause, Sakura-chan asked, hesitant, "We... have to kill just on the suspicion?"

"Yes," Kakashi-sensei said, and there was no room at all for argument in that.

Naruto swallowed hard. Maybe he hadn't known what Kakashi-sensei meant when he talked about government work, after all.

"If Cloud knows that Leaf did this, they'll take it as an excuse to attack openly," Sasuke reasoned out, cool and detached in the falling dusk. "Killing a handful of sailors or Cloud-nin to keep that from happening actually keeps the most people alive. Especially our people. It only makes sense."

"There should be a way to do it so we don't have to kill them either," Naruto protested. "Can't we, I don't know, talk to them or something?"

"Not often." Kakashi-sensei sighed and sat back against one of the tall, straight pines. "I doubt you got this part of it in history class. Our most recent treaty with Cloud was actually offered as a way to get their field commander inside our village. Under the pretext of negotiations, he tried to kidnap Hyuuga Hinata so they could study the Hyuuga bloodline talent. Her father killed him. So Cloud demanded his head for the 'offense', threatening to go back to war if they didn't get it."

Naruto's eyes were huge, and so were Sakura-chan's. Sasuke was looking down at his knees. "What happened?" Sakura-chan whispered.

Kakashi-sensei's voice was quiet in the growing dark. "The clan head's twin brother offered his life in his twin's place, since he was marked with the seal that would bind his cells at death and lock them from any medical technique that might pry into the Hyuuga genes. It was done, and his head was sent back to Cloud with the remaining emissaries. They left a binding treaty behind, witnessed by representatives from Rock and Sand, so even when they realized what we'd done they didn't dare repudiate it. We and they have raided each other since then, in covert operations like this, but we've kept any excuse for open war out of their hands."

"And... we have to keep doing that now." Sakura-chan's arms were wrapped around herself, and her jaw was tight. Naruto came to a new resolution right then and there.

"Someday," he said, firmly, "there'll be another way to do it. When I'm Hokage, I'll make it happen."

"When pigs fly, then," Sasuke snorted. "You are so naive. And we still need a fast, quiet way to plant the explosive tags."

"Hey!" Naruto yelled, and then crossed his arms. "I'll find a way to do anything. That's my strength, Sakura-chan and Kakashi-sensei both say so." He preened.

"Just not a quiet way," Sasuke shot back, all dry and sardonic and stuff. Naruto didn't used to know what that meant, before he met Sasuke.

"Both of you cut it out," Sakura-chan ordered, sounding annoyed, but that was okay because Naruto could see she was trying not to smile, and that was a lot better than how she'd looked while Kakashi-sensei was talking. "Okay, look, if we plant the tags on the outsides that should blow good holes in all of them except the five armored ships. So if we do the regular ships first, that's one armored for each of us and two for Kakashi-sensei, and very little chance of the tags being spotted before we set them off."

Kakashi-sensei smiled. "Good. Now, how are you going to keep yourselves unseen, while you plant tags in the armored ships?"

"Camouflage fabric for when we need to take cover, but that won't do for when we're moving," Sakura started out.

"We're on water, what about that light-bending reflection technique Kakashi-sensei picked up in Hot Springs Country two missions back?" Sasuke suggested.

"I bet they wouldn't notice the tags at all if I went in as a girl," Naruto put in, grinning, and scored a point to himself when Sasuke actually groaned.

Maybe this could be a little fun after all.

They're following Sasuke. Coming home through Water Country instead of overland, to keep away from Sound. -K

Sasuke stood with his team in front of the Hokage's desk and kicked Naruto's ankle when he fidgeted.

The Fifth steepled her hands and looked at them over her fingers. "This is something that would have to be done before you attempted the exams again, but I'd hoped to take a little more time to study the seal. Unfortunately, we've confirmed that you're being followed, and there's only one group that's likely to be behind it." She looked disgruntled for a moment. "Though we haven't caught the bastards yet." She took a breath and laid her hands down flat on her polished desktop, looking Sasuke in the eye. "It's your choice whether to attempt this procedure now. I must tell you that the other person who's undergone it so far is... not unscathed. Mitarashi's chakra still hasn't recovered completely, and I've begun to fear that it's permanently scarred."

"Then why did you attempt it on her?" Sakura asked, frowning, and blushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth, adding hastily, "Hokage-sama. I mean, if I may ask."

Sasuke thought Sakura made a lot more sense when she forgot to be polite.

The Fifth's mouth tightened and her fingers laced. "Because I made the mistake of telling Anko how close I thought I was to finding a way and she knows how closely Sound is watching our village. She threatened to kill herself to remove a potential security breach if I didn't attempt it at once." She passed a hand over her forehead and muttered, "I don't even have enough shinobi to spare one for medical watch on someone of her skills."

Considering what he'd seen of Orochimaru, and what he'd heard since, Sasuke thought Mitarashi made plenty of sense, too. There was really only one point that he wanted cleared up. "If I chose to wait, what happens then?"

"We'll have to take you off your team and keep you in the village until the operation is stable," the Fifth said, soberly. "It's the only way to make reasonably sure you aren't taken."

"No," Sasuke said instantly, and then had to pause, taken aback by his own surety. It didn't change, though, when he prodded at it cautiously, in his mind. Any thought of staying here, of being left behind while Naruto and Sakura went out on more missions... no. Just, no.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be right," Naruto agreed, arms crossed. "Sasuke is one of us!"

Sasuke rolled his eyes, easing back into familiar disgust with the simplicity of Naruto's worldview. This time, though, the idiot had the right answer. How was Sasuke supposed to keep getting stronger without his team to work with, after all? It was only practical to stay with them.

Sakura was chewing her lip. "If it's still dangerous, though," she started, and he glared at her. Did she really think he was a coward? She glared back, hands on her hips. "I'm not saying you're scared or anything like that! I'm saying, what if this damages your chakra? What if it leaves you weaker? If you can prevent that by spending a mission or two on the sidelines, it only makes sense! You have to balance the costs with the gains, honestly."

Sasuke glanced aside at that. If this were a mission, he admitted grudgingly, he would accept her evaluation. That was her part.

"What are the odds, if you do this procedure now?" Kakashi-sensei asked quietly from where he leaned against the wall of the office.

"I judge there's an eighty-five percent chance of full removal with no chakra scarring." The Fifth looked at Sasuke as she said it, not Kakashi. "In another three months, I believe I could increase that to at least ninety-five."

Naruto looked daunted and Sakura screwed up her mouth. She didn't immediately say it wasn't worth it, though. Kakashi-sensei was silent, and Sasuke looked back over his shoulder, curious. His teacher met his eyes, gaze level and waiting.

Sasuke thought about that look and prodded again at his feeling he shouldn't leave his team. Slowly, he said, "What good is an anchor if I let go of it?"

The corner of Kakashi-sensei's eye crinkled, the sign of his hidden smile.

"What anchor?" Naruto demanded, bouncing a little on his toes, on the scent of a secret.

"The one you are around my neck," Sasuke muttered.

"Hey!"

Naruto went to punch him in the shoulder and Sasuke avoided it disdainfully, hooking out an ankle to trip Naruto into a chair as he deserved, except that even idiots could be quick on their feet and Naruto hopped over it. They were just starting to settle in for a proper round of it when Sakura pushed them apart, cheeks a mortified red.

"Stop that, the both of you! Not in front of the Hokage!"

Naruto straightened up looking hangdog. The Hokage in question, on the other hand, looked like she was trying not to laugh. "So." She paused to clear her throat and managed, more seriously. "What is your decision?"

Sasuke drew a long breath, a little amazed by how easy it felt. "I'll do it now. I don't really want to leave this team."

The Fifth's eyes softened and he tried not to shuffle or fidget like Naruto would have. "All right," she said quietly. "I need a week to prepare and clear my schedule. You three are off duty until then." She nodded to Kakashi, dismissing them.

As they walked out of the administrative building, Naruto said stoutly, "We'll come with you, when you go in to do this."

"Not into an operating room, Naruto," Sakura admonished. "We'll wait outside, then."

Part of Sasuke pointed out that there was no need, and it would be a waste of their time. But another part, the part that kept thinking about the number eighty-five and the floating, corrosive rage that came to him whenever he'd activated the seal, was glad they'd be there.

As it turned out, they were in the operating room after all. Sakura wasn't sure how she felt about that. Tsunade-sama had come banging through the library yesterday afternoon while Sakura was distracting the boys with some fascinating camouflage illusion techniques she'd found. The Hokage's hair had been half out of its ties, and her eyes had been blazing.

"I have an idea!" she'd declared and thumped a hand down on their table, leaning over them. "Naruto! Do you want to help out with this operation?"

Naruto had looked downright alarmed, and frankly so had Sasuke. "Me? But I don't know anything about healing!"

"Doesn't matter. I just need you to supply chakra to me."

"Oh." Naruto had settled. "Well, yeah, sure."

Sasuke had blinked at him. "'Yeah, sure'?" he'd echoed, disbelieving.

Naruto had looked at him, puzzled. "Well, yeah. The seal is a problem. Tsunade-baba's gonna get it off you. If she needs some of my chakra to do it without hurting you, what's the problem? It makes sense, doesn't it?"

After a moment, Sasuke had looked aside. "Nothing you do makes sense, why should this be any different?" he'd muttered. Sakura had expected Naruto to fire up at the insult, the way he usually did, the way the two of them always bickered and snapped, but instead Naruto had leaned back in his chair, tipping it up on two legs, and just grinned. He'd looked... satisfied.

Tsunade-sama had smiled and ruffled Naruto's hair. "Kind of figured you'd say that." Naruto's grin had turned downright smug.

"But..!" Sakura had nearly pulled her own hair in frustration. When was she going to get Naruto to actually think about these things before he jumped in?! "Tsunade-sama! Naruto's chakra flow isn't smooth enough for any medical application, and how can he possibly learn that fast enough?"

"Doesn't matter," Tsunade-sama had waved a dismissive hand. "We'll take care of it with seals. Here, look at this." She'd pulled a sheaf of paper out of her obi and spread it out on the table. "See? The Three Gates gathering seal linked to the Dragon at Dawn seal will smooth any spikes out, and if the whole thing is buffered through the Summer Rain chakra dispersal seal the level should be constant."

Sakura had traced the complex figures with a fingertip, starting to understand; it was a brilliant piece of work. "But Tsunade-sama," she'd finally said, with what she later recognized was unfortunate innocence in anyone dealing with Tsunade of the Leaf, "these seals have to be held externally. In fact, if I'm reading this right, it's the chakra control of the person holding them that will make it all work, and they'll have to be familiar with the chakra of the person sourcing. And Kakashi-sensei left on that short-term solo job with a caravan to Grass..."

Tsunade had smiled down at her like a cat with a plump tuna of its very own. "That, Sakura-chan, is where you come in."

And so here she was, kneeling outside circles on circles of figures, hands folded in the Rat seal, breathing slow and steady to help give her a rhythm she could smooth the wild riptide of Naruto's chakra into. She'd been right; the seals were a brilliant piece of work and she'd never have been able to do this without their structure. As a scholar, she was lost in admiration and a little envy.

As the person having to breathe steady while one of her teammates lay barely more than arm's reach away and screamed, and another of her teammates sat in the circles of seals biting his lip until it bled and digging his fingers into the floor, she was only trying her damnedest not to break.

"Cauterize!" Tsunade snapped at last, visibly glowing hands still pressed hard to Sasuke's back over the Gate of Limit and the Gate of View, and Shizune—her only assistant, and they really were that short-handed weren't they, and why was she thinking about that at a time like this—stepped forward and traced layer on layer of medical seals over Sasuke's shoulder, fast and grim. Sasuke's screams finally subsided into hoarse, senseless, gasping. Tsunade was chanting under her breath, presumably to Sasuke, "Down... that's right, bring it down... no need to go bleeding your goddamn chakra all over the landscape you stubborn bastard, bring it down..."

Tsunade-sama certainly had an unusual bedside manner, Sakura thought very distantly and almost giggled. Stress, she told herself, and pressed her hands together tighter.

"Done," Shizune declared, running light fingers over each major chakra release point in turn. "Okay, it's steady. Head is good. Hands are good. Spine?"

Tsunade breathed out and slowly, warily, lifted her hands. "...good." She ran down the chakra points herself, nodding, and finally turned to Sakura and Naruto. "All right, we're done. Naruto, get yourself buttoned up again so Sakura can let the seals go without blowing the whole top floor off the hospital."

Naruto growled, and Sakura looked up at him, startled, and abruptly alarmed. His eyes... his eyes were strange.

"Naruto!" Tsunade barked. "Sasuke is safe!"

Slowly, the strangeness in Naruto's eyes went away and the tension in his hands eased; there were actually holes in the tile floor where his fingers had been. Tsunade came and rested a hand on Sakura's shoulder. "Okay," she said calmly. "Let it go, easy now."

As the pressure of Naruto's chakra ebbed out of the channels the seals created, Sakura slowly pried her hands apart and eased into the formal release. "Kai," she whispered, distantly surprised by how rough her voice was. And how she was shaking. Tsunade supported her and said, matter-of-fact. "Good work, both of you. Naruto, I know we pushed it with this, but you need to work on your control. Sakura, for you it's your endurance."

That cool, ruthless, teacherly evaluation actually steadied her. Sakura took a deep breath and said, in a more normal voice, "Yes, Tsunade-sama."

Tsunade smiled. "Now, come on, and see for yourselves that he's all right." She actually laughed as they both scrambled past her to Sasuke's side. Naruto took his shoulders, looking down at him fierce and intent, and Sakura laid a hand over his heart, letting out a shaky sigh at the feel of a strong, even pulse under her palm.

"We won't know for sure until he's recovered enough to work out a little, but all the signs are very good so far," Tsunade told them.

"The way he was screaming, though..." Naruto muttered, not looking up.

"Orochimaru sank some of his chakra into Sasuke's," Tsunade-sama said quietly, coming to stand beside them. "Like fangs. And it mixed a little into Sasuke's, like poison in the bloodstream, or a parasite. Getting that out was... not easy." She smiled down at Naruto, and it suddenly came to Sakura that Tsunade-sama looked exhausted too, pale and damp-haired with sweat. "I don't think even I could have done it and kept his chakra from hemorrhaging without you to supply a transfusion."

Naruto looked up at that, eyes so wide and defenseless that it made Sakura's breath catch. Had she really just imagined that feral strangeness? "He's really going to be okay?" he begged.

Tsunade rested a hand on his head. "I think so."

Shizune returned with a rolling cot and made to lift Sasuke onto it, but Naruto scooted in and picked Sasuke up himself. "I'll do it," he muttered, gruffly.

Sakura scrubbed a fast hand over her eyes, telling herself it was just the stress that was making her react this way, and swallowed the lump out of her throat. "Can we stay with him until he wakes up?" she asked, only a little husky.

"I imagine that would be for the best, yes," Tsunade agreed, and shooed them after the cot as it rolled out. "Go on. Don't forget to drink some water and stretch while you wait."

There was some comforting bustle getting Sasuke settled in a small recovery room, and one of the orderlies brought a pitcher of water and, after a long look at them, a stack of rough white towels. Sakura buried her head in one for a few long breaths.

"You okay, Sakura-chan?" A hesitant hand rested on her shoulder.

Sakura managed a smile for Naruto as she looked up. "Yeah. I'm okay. Just tired out."

She let him fuss and pour water for her, and watched Sasuke's chest rise and fall with his breathing, and promised herself that she would never, ever, ever go into medicine as her specialty. Ever. A battlefield would be easier to handle than this. Anything would be easier.

When Sasuke's eyes finally opened and she saw him coil up, tense as he always was, and then actually relax when he saw them there beside him, she had to let Naruto distract Sasuke while she scrubbed the towel over her face again to wipe away the water in her eyes.

From: Tsunade
To: Kakashi
Re: Naruto

KAKASHI, GET YOUR ASS RIGHT BACK HERE IMMEDIATELY, I HAVE SOME QUESTIONS FOR YOU. WHAT THE HELL WAS SARUTOBI THINKING?!

Tsunade had her hands over her face. "So let me get this straight," she said through them. "After the attack, after Minato-kun sacrificed himself and his child to ensure the Nine-tails was hosted and sealed again, Sarutobi-sensei decided that no one should air it around that Naruto was Minato and Kushina's own son. Okay. That's not all that unusual, in fact the Hokage's children usually don't really want that played up. I'm glad someone benefited from the lesson of my own childhood embarrassments. Fine. Great. It's really fucking stupid that no one ever told Naruto who his parents were, but whatever. But! Then! Then he actually forbids anyone to talk about the Nine-tails or its hosting at all! Which just ensures that none of the next generation understand about the tailed beasts, or knows why their parents are acting like such assholes to this poor kid, or have the chance to decide they're going to be cool and rebellious by making Naruto out to be a hero like Minato-kun requested as his dying wish! And Naruto didn't even know what he was until he was told by a traitor two years ago, and even then no one fucking told him what it meant! Have I got all this right?"

She still hadn't looked up from her hands, which was making Kakashi just a little nervous. "Yes, I think that's about it," he agreed, calculating whether it would be faster to leave by the door or the windows if the legendary Tsunade-hime lost her legendary temper.

She slammed her hands down on the desktop, which cracked, and glared at him. "Well that stops right now. I hereby repeal Sarutobi-sensei's order of silence regarding the Nine-tails. That attack and the results of it are going to be taught in school, Kakashi."

"I'm sure the curriculum committee will have an interesting time with that," he murmured, smirking, and added more cautiously, "And what do you want to tell Naruto himself?"

Tsunade opened her mouth furiously, stopped short, and slowly closed it again. "You're his teacher, Kakashi," she finally said. "Will it help or hurt, at this point, to know who his parents were?"

It was Kakashi's turn to be quiet for a while, thinking. "Naruto has made a lot of progress. He has the acknowledgement of his team. He's made connections with some of the other genin. He's even made a friend in the new Kazekage. He isn't as desperate as he was."

"But?" Tsunade asked softly.

"But," Kakashi agreed, "most of the village hasn't changed their minds. A lot of the older shinobi haven't. I think... I think it might be best to wait until after he passes the chuunin exam. That might be enough acknowledgment that it won't hurt him as much to know that he's the son of a hero and even that didn't stop our people from treating him like trash."

Tsunade winced. Kakashi felt much the same way, but he continued steadily.

"If he'd known from the start, it might have been a talisman for him; if it had been public, it might even have stopped some of the hate. Or at least muffled it. But to tell everyone this late in the day... it has to be at the right time."

Tsunade rubbed her forehead. "For someone with children and grandchildren of his own, Sarutobi-sensei could be a real idiot about how to deal with kids," she muttered.

"I believe that is why Asuma tries to get people to forget his family name, yes. Or one reason at least. And what about the Nine-tails?" Kakashi added.

"We have to actually train him, and train him soon," Tsunade said, so flatly that Kakashi felt a stir of alarm.

"Tsunade-sama, why, exactly, did you call me back so abruptly?" he asked slowly.

"I drew on Naruto's chakra while I was operating to remove Orochimaru's seal from Sasuke." She crossed her arms, tight. "The fox itself came out just a little, then."

Kakashi's fingers bit into the edge of the desk as he surged forward a step. "What?"

"I think it was just bleed-through, as the seal is made to permit. But he changed a little, physically—his eyes and his nails both." She looked understandably grim. "Kakashi, Naruto had no training or guidance at all, thanks to his mother's death, and he's had this thing in him since he was born! And Sarutobi-sensei's order of silence means he's never even studied any of the scrolls left by other hosts. I think the fox is starting to resonate with Naruto's emotions, and when that happens some of its consciousness or nature gets through along with its chakra."

Kakashi scrubbed his hands through his hair, completely understanding the vehemence of Tsunade's summons home, now. "We have to train him," he agreed. "Get him as much teaching as possible, anyway. Maybe Sand has some resources they can lend us. But maybe not until after the exam for this, either."

Tsunade frowned. "And if his emotions get stirred up during the exam?"

Kakashi snorted. "After what happened when the One-tail's host went through last year, I really doubt anything Naruto does will stir anyone up much." He slid his hands into his pockets and crossed his fingers. "Besides, the next exam is hosted in Sand, and they owe us one."

"Mmm. Well, I suppose it was triggered, this time, by his desire to protect his team. That's a positive sign, I think." Tsunade spun her chair around and stared out her wide windows, over the colored tiles of the village roofs for a while. "All right," she said at last. "After the exam, we tell Naruto about his parents and the background of his demon. I'll get some of the ANBU with their heads on straight to seed the information about his parents through the village, and send out an official notice repealing the Third's order or silence. We'll make a big deal about whatever training we find for Naruto, to calm everyone down." She spun back around to glare at him. "And I'll personally rip off the nuts of anyone who tries to further alienate the host and guardian of our village's most powerful defense."

Kakashi's smile would have showed his teeth if not for his mask. "As you command, Hokage-sama," he said, for once without any hint of irony. It was a shame they hadn't gotten Tsunade back sooner, really.

He just had to get his students through the exam, and they could start setting things a little back to rights.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Three

In which the Chuunin Exam seems to be a lot easier this time around. Action, I-2

"So why do we only have big exams for chuunin? I mean, the genin exam is just, like, the finals at the academy, and I don't even know how you get to be jounin, why aren't those like this too?"

Kakashi thought just a little wistfully of the days when a really brisk pace meant Naruto didn't have the breath to chatter. These days, even a good, hard run across sand and through canyons wouldn't do it. "A public exam for genin would be boring for everyone. Except, possibly, the students, and they should be keeping their minds on their work anyway. As for jounin promotions, no sane village would be willing to show those kind of advanced techniques openly. Chuunin is the only level that's interesting and useful to watch without giving too much away." He paused and eyed his students, and finally added, "Normal chuunin, anyway."

"Oh." A breath of silence and then, "So, Gaara will be there, right? I want to see him again!"

"After the exams, you might be able to see him privately," Kakashi allowed.

Naruto nearly tripped. "Wait, huh? Why can't I see him? We're friends!"

Sakura swung closer for a moment and fetched him a smack on the shoulder without breaking stride. "He's the Kazekage, now, Naruto, and he's the host of the exams this season. You don't want anyone thinking that he favored Leaf, do you?"

Naruto rubbed his shoulder, frowning. "But he does favor us," he objected. "I mean, we're allies right?"

Sometimes, Kakashi thought with a hidden smile, Naruto's simplicity really did see right to the heart. "We are," he agreed, as Sakura sputtered over how to explain hidden village politics to her teammate. "And that's exactly why the Kazekage can't be seen to do anything special for us during the exams. Some of the other villages will already assume he would, and will be looking for signs they can use to discredit Sand. The host must appear to be neutral, just like the examinees must appear not to be cheating on the first part." As Naruto frowned deeper in puzzlement, he tried, "You don't want anyone thinking you passed because of favoritism, either, do you?"

If they hadn't been running, he was sure Naruto would have crossed his arms. "Of course not! I'll pass all on my own!"

Sasuke, running silent and efficiently beside Naruto, rolled his eyes, but Kakashi saw the corner of his mouth twitch up.

"Well, at least we missed the round held in Hidden Rain," Sakura put in, diplomatically changing the subject. "Ino said there were people following them around every second they were there. Sand-nin should be a lot nicer to us, I'd think, after the Hokage's policy of contract-sharing, this year."

"Don't relax too much," Kakashi cautioned them. "Sand is an ally, probably our closest ally right now, but this isn't home. It will be good training for all of you." He paused and his mouth quirked behind his mask. "And don't be surprised if you hear a bit of grumbling over those joint missions."

"Why?" Sasuke finally spoke up to ask. "It's bringing money back into their village, isn't it? And it's only the contracts coming out of Sand that we share with them, so the other villages shouldn't have anything to complain about."

"The grumble you'll be most likely to hear is about 'babysitting'," Kakashi said dryly, leading them up a striated cliff wall before they could get too deep into what he recalled was a dead-end canyon. "Those missions are where the genin of less experience or ability are getting assigned, these days. It's a good deal for everyone: our genin get some seasoning under Sand chuunin or even jounin, the contract fee is split according to rank so Sand usually gets more of the money, and it takes a little of the pressure off us while we're short-handed. But the fact is, those contracts still come from Wind citizens and even the Wind government, and there's some lingering resentment over that."

After a long, quiet moment, Naruto said, "People can be kind of dumb, you know?"

"A fact of life that any future Kage has to deal with," Kakashi murmured.

He was actually starting to look forward to seeing whether, and how, Naruto would deal with it.

Naruto crawled through the desert scrub, grinning all over his face. He'd hated the first part of the chuunin exam, last time. A paper test! What kind of ninja needed paper tests? Well, aside from Sakura-chan, because she was just that brilliant. This one, though? This was like being allowed to play the biggest practical joke ever.

He spotted the first target in the distance, standing with her back to a stone formation, and paused to think. This test was like an obstacle course that they each had to get through without being spotted, but at the same time they were supposed to be marking each watcher they saw with a special seal-tag. Like paint-bombs, only not as colorful; too bad, really, paint bombs would have been more fun. They'd all been told that something would happen, after each run, to make it clear how many tags they'd been able to place before they finished or got caught, but no one knew what it was, and he'd just have to leave a bunch of tags stuck on behind him to see. After considering all the angles for a minute, he flipped his hands through the summoning seals, bit his thumb, and set his hand down quietly. Gamakichi puffed into being and looked around brightly. "Hey!"

"Shhh," Naruto told him, finger pressed to his lips. "We're sneaking. Here." He held out the tag, blank side up. "Lick this for me, will you?"

Gamakichi sat back on his hind legs and gave him a skeptical look. "You want me to what?"

"I need to stick it on that ninja over there," Naruto explained. "And if I use any ninjutsu that close she'll sense me, I'm not very good at hiding my chakra techniques, and I didn't think to bring any glue, and I told Sakura-chan not to help with this test and Sasuke wouldn't have anyway."

Gamakichi looked between the watcher and Naruto a few times and grinned a toad-grin. "I'll do it, as long as I get to come along."

"Deal," Naruto promised.

Gamakichi spat stickily on the end of the tag and crawled onto Naruto's shoulder. Naruto eeled along the sand and scrub, freezing every time the watcher stirred. Finally, he was close enough to hold up the tag so the end pressed against her vest as she shifted her weight again. Perfect! He crept back into the shadow of the stones and over a shallow hill before he and Gamakichi slapped triumphant palms and he went in search of his next target.

There were twelve in all, and Naruto tagged nine of them. He couldn't figure out a way to reach the other three without using genjutsu or ninjutsu, which, honestly, would just get him spotted anyway, and he figured that getting past everyone unseen counted for more than tagging everyone. At least that's what missions seemed to need, more often. So when he popped up at the end of the course to grin at the judge, he was pretty satisfied. And it was someone he knew, too! "Temari-san, hi!"

"Ah, it's you." She looked him up and down, mouth quirked. "Not bad. I didn't think you'd be any good at sneaking."

Naruto drew himself up, indignant. "I am really good at sneaking! At least when I don't have to use chakra," he added.

She snorted. "Well, let's see how you did on the other part, then."

Gamakichi and Naruto watched with interest as she pulled out a paper tag bigger than the ones he'd used and held two fingers in front of her lips in the initiation seal, whispering a few quick words.

Across the course, nine puffs of smoke rose, virulent blue and pink and orange, followed by some faint cursing.

Naruto stared in delighted disbelief and finally burst into laughter. They'd been paint bombs after all! "That is so cool!"

Temari-san snorted again, tucking away the tag. "You would think so. Honestly," she shook her head, "my brother likes you way too much. I'm hoping you don't become Hokage any time soon, or we'll be screwed at the negotiating table."

He gave her a wounded look. "I wouldn't do that, Temari-san." And then he blinked. "Hey, hey, wait a minute. You mean... the smoke was Gaara's idea?"

She crossed her arms and gave him an exasperated glare of the kind he was way more used to getting from his own teachers than foreign shinobi. He figured that was a yes. He also felt like his grin might spit his face in two. Gaara was figuring out how to play tricks and have some fun! Temari-san sighed and waved a hand at him.

"Go on, then. Shoo. Find your teammates, all three of you passed, congratulations." Her lips twitched unwillingly as she looked out at the drifting, multi-colored smoke. "I guess we owe you this much, at least. Gaara is... doing better these days."

Naruto caught her hand for a moment. "I'm really glad, Temari-san," he told her. And then, before she could stop starting at him with wide eyes and smack him with that gigantic fan of hers or something, he dashed past her to find Sakura and Sasuke.

One down!

"The second part is a simulation of a nighttime raid," a tall Sand-nin explained to all the first round survivors. "Your objective is at the center of the test area; you are required to get in, find the scroll that matches the chakra imprint of the one given to your team, and get back to your starting point. The objective will be guarded by chuunin of at least two years seniority. If you encounter other teams, you may ignore them, assist them, or hinder them."

Sasuke exchanged looks with the other two. Naruto was grinning like the idiot he usually was, and even Sakura looked like she was trying not to laugh. Sasuke snorted and voiced the thought for all of them. "No problem."

They re-sorted their gear quickly: a handful of Sakura's concealing seal-tags went into Naruto's pouches, far more subtle than anything he could do with his own genjutsu; one more of Sasuke's chakra-sharpened kunai was added to Sakura's thigh holster, her extra edge in hand-to-hand with any guards; Sasuke slipped a few extra packets of Naruto's chakra-free chemical experiments, explosives, hallucinogens, and sleeping powder, into his arm wrap. When the examiner at the gate let them in they slipped through, Sasuke on point with his Sharingan activated, Sakura behind his shoulder, Naruto at the rear to guard their flanks. It was comfortable and familiar, and Sasuke felt none of the tension he had during their last exam—only a cool crinkle down his nerves, familiar from this past year of missions.

He didn't like to admit it, but perhaps sending them to the last exams to fail had been the best thing Kakashi-sensei could have done for them. They wouldn't be where they were now without the furious determination to overcome that failure to push them forward. It was a familiar motivation for him, especially, worn smooth and hard in the years since the massacre.

The thought flickered through his mind, that Naruto and his idiot insistence, Sakura and her calculated plans, pushed him further than thoughts of Itachi alone ever had. He caught the thought and stuffed it away for later. A mission wasn't the time to think, not about that.

The test area here was completely unlike the Forest of Death. It was a range of shallow dunes and hills around a craggy plateau. Their target was at the top. It was a good location, defensible, with clear lines of sight even with night falling. Around them, the other teams flickered through the dusk and vanished into the folds of the land—vanished from normal sight, at least. Sasuke watched their paths and led his own team down into a dry wash that wound a little away from the plateau, avoiding the obvious approaches most of the others had chosen.

The impersonal observation he had been trained to while using the Sharingan noted down all the signs that surrounded him, relevant and not, waiting for the clues that would let him sort between the two. Sakura was silent and sure on the patches of sand, a bare breath of chakra whispering about her feet, maybe not even noticeable to him if he hadn't known her so well. Naruto moved at a crouch on the softer footing, almost as silent, using his hands to steady him; his chakra burned and sang through the night, but somehow it fit in with this bare land the same way it did into a forest of their own country. The night air was growing cold fast, cold like he'd never felt even on their mission north into the Lightning Country. Sakura was starting to shiver.

That needed action. He fought a brief struggle with himself over the obvious answer, but Sakura was part of his team, and they were damn well going to win this year, and there was no one to object any more. He stopped and beckoned her closer. "Watch," he mouthed silently, not trusting even a whisper in this open land and still air, and held out his hands. As she watched intently, he shaped the seals for Inner Fire and laid one suddenly-warm hand on her bare arm. Her eyes widened in the starlight. She followed his seals slowly, and he only had to correct her once before he saw her chakra settle into a new form and she straightened, shivers subsiding. He nodded and would have turned back to their path except for her hand on his arm in turn. "Thank you," she mouthed, eyes steady.

He told himself she couldn't know it was a clan secret and was just glad to be warm. He would be too, if he was that thin. He nodded briskly and looked for Naruto. Naruto slid down from where he'd been standing, still and on guard, a little up the slope from them. He grinned and clapped Sasuke's shoulder in passing as he fell back into his position. It was in passing, so Sasuke didn't have to figure out what to do about it, which was a relief right now.

They slipped through the night, quick and steady, avoiding the one team to cross their path—one of the three from Hidden Rain. One of them was actually complaining out loud about the dryness of the air. Sasuke and his teammates looked at each other with mutual disbelief and went around. That lot would probably eliminate themselves without any help.

The steep sides of the plateau were trapped all the way up. The best handholds were mined with contact-explosives and the whole face was seeded with more explosives triggered by chakra. Naruto shrugged when Sasuke finished tallying everything he could see. "Me first, then," he whispered, and slung his rope coil firmly around his waist. Sasuke and Sakura took cover under some of the dusty brush at the foot and waited.

"Why can't he act serious more often," Sasuke muttered, exasperated, as he watched Naruto scramble up the cliff from one precarious hold to another, making it look easy. It was absolutely infuriating to have a competent rival one moment and a loud-mouthed, eye-blinding idiot the next. The problem hadn't gotten better in the past year, no matter how often he pointed out that a bright orange, attack yelling ninja was just plain not a proper ninja.

"At least we got him to wear decently dark pants lately?" Sakura offered comfortingly, though her eyes danced even in the moonlight.

"The jacket is still orange enough for three," Sasuke grumbled, and he was pretty sure she was stifling a laugh at him. Her chakra looked that way. He was completely right about Naruto's damn jacket. Sometimes he wondered whether Sakura teasing him was really any better than her mooning over him had been.

The climb up, once Naruto let down the rope, went quickly. The creep past the outer guards went more slowly, but one of the Sand teams had made it ahead of them and gotten overconfident. The scuffle when they were discovered covered Sasuke's team's dash to the wall. "Split up to get in, meet in that room," Sakura mouthed, pointing to one of the windows above them. Sasuke nodded and ghosted down the wall toward a tower while Naruto fished out two of Sakura's illusion seals. Sasuke climbed, planted some explosive tags on the level where his team would meet and, when they went off, slipped through the window two levels up. The one guard who had stayed at his post was distracted enough for sleep powder to take care of, and when found would concentrate attention on the wrong floor. He came down the far staircase and met the other two in Sakura's chosen room. Naruto was snickering over the brief chaos down the hall. Sasuke had thought that would probably amuse him. Not that that had been part of his calculations, of course.

Sakura gave both of them an admonishing head shake and nudged Sasuke back on point. The path through to the "treasury room" was almost insultingly easy. Sasuke found himself thinking that this couldn't possibly be more than a C-rank mission and then had to remind himself that it was supposed to be. The guards on the "treasury" were already knocked out, and inside they came face to face with another Sand team, older than the ones who were caught outside. Sasuke tensed as they whipped around, one huge shuriken and paired knives ready and poised while the third member kept sorting scrolls in an alarmingly disciplined way. Sakura stepped out to the side, giving them all weapons clearance, and showed open hands. "I propose we not interfere with each other," she said, low. "It would take time and might attract attention if we fought here. We'll both do better, at this point, to ignore each other for now and start back while the other teams are starting to distract the guards."

There was a flash of yellow by the dark-haired woman sorting scrolls and she whispered. "Got it." She stood and cast an assessing eye over them. Sasuke thought she was noticing their lack of any injuries. Finally she nodded to her teammates, who relaxed. "She's right. No sense maybe getting injured when we already have our objective and are first getting out. Let's go." She nodded to Sakura, who waved Sasuke and Naruto to one side with her. Sasuke was just as glad; the sharpness of the woman's gaze reminded him uncomfortably of Mitarashi, and that was no one he wanted to fight if he didn't have to.

He'd gone to visit Mitarashi, before they left. He still wasn't entirely sure why; he certainly didn't like her personally, she reminded him way too much of Naruto. Only a lot more crazed. He'd lay money down that she'd spent time in ANBU, if she wasn't in still. He'd just felt like he needed to see her, was all. She, for her part, had insulted his ninjutsu abilities, challenged him to a sparring match, and dragged him along to the dango shop once she'd finished wiping the thirty-seventh practice ground with him. He'd put the whole experience down, in his own mind, as good preparation for this exam and tried not to think about the things she'd yelled at him while fighting, about recognizing a mindfuck when he saw it and getting his head out of his ass. He was doing perfectly fine, and when his team passed handily everyone would know it.

As soon as the other team was out of the room, Sakura pulled out their own scroll and dove for the heap in the middle of the room. "Watch my back."

It seemed to take longer than three minutes, but Sasuke was familiar with that effect and counted his heartbeats as he and Naruto flanked the door, one looking out and one in just in case any traps activated. Finally there was a flash of red light and Sakura was beside them again with two scrolls in hand. "Let's go."

It actually took longer getting out, because the other teams were arriving and the halls were more full of fighting as some were discovered, but they weren't seen, they didn't trip any traps, and soon they were back into the cold night air at the bottom of the cliff, looking at each other a little blankly.

"Is it supposed to be that easy?" Naruto wondered.

Sakura laughed softly. "Well, like I've said before. We are a really strong team."

The satisfaction gleaming in her smile was a reflection of Sasuke's own.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Four

In which the exam tournament gives everyone a chance to grow a little and tie up some loose ends. Action, Fluff, I-3

Sakura sat in the candidates' balcony of the large, enclosed, Sand arena and waited for the next individual match to be announced, and tried to calm herself down by mentally reviewing the profiles of her possible opponents. Gai-san's team had taken this season's exam also, and included Hyuuga Neji, who seemed to have waited out the whole year to take the exam again with his teammates. She'd be in trouble against Neji, since she didn't dare close with him and his field of vision made it almost impossible to hit him from a distance with her speed. The rest of that team, she thought she could handle. Two of the Sand teams had made it to the final part too, and one from Rain. Out of those teams, there were two people she thought she'd really have trouble with: the brown-haired woman from the team they'd met at the middle of the second round, and a thin red-haired boy from Hidden Rain. He had some kind of bloodline talent she'd caught a glimpse of on their way out of the fortress; she'd seen him dissolve and a sword pass through him, and then the red mist where he'd been reformed and he'd casually knocked the chuunin guard unconscious. She could think of ways to deal with that, but most of them depended on resources the arena didn't have handy.

As for the woman... Sakura had a feeling she was what Sakura might be in another handful of years. But she wasn't there yet.

Lee had already won against one of the other Rain genin, punching right through the other boy's water barriers. Two Sand-nin from different teams had fought each other nearly to a standstill, blades against a taijutsu style Sakura had never seen before, heavy on ferocious kicks. Tenten had had a hard time, at first, against her opponent's illusions, but had eventually overwhelmed him with a downright rain of lethal weaponry which had done Sakura's heart good to watch. Her teammates, she thought wryly, had given her a taste for overkill. The dark-haired Sand woman had just finished wiping the arena with the third of the Rain team, whose wind-driven shuriken had been no match for her absolute precision and control with body replacement and wire-guided weapons. She'd won using only a technique of the very lowest level and she'd made it look easy. Sakura really hoped they were in different matches for the next round.

And, if only, please, she didn't have to face her own team...

"Next match! Haruno Sakura against Raisu Kurosuke!"

The red-haired Rain genin bounced to his feet and trotted toward the stairs down to the arena.

Sakura stood very still for a moment, ruefully reflecting on the old advice to be careful what you wished for. But only a moment before her mind started ticking down the things she'd already thought about this opponent and presented a conclusion. Can't cut, need to enclose; not wind, not earth, need water or fire; can't create enough water to enclose or enough fire to ensure an effect; therefore... She turned briskly to Naruto. "Can I borrow your jacket? I promise I'll have it cleaned really well after."

Naruto looked mournfully at his bright orange sleeve before sighing and tugging the jacket off. "Sure, Sakura-chan."

She stuffed her arms into the sleeves as she hurried down the stairs.

Her opponent squinted at her as she came out onto the sand. "Doesn't that clash a little?"

Sakura's face turned hot; all right, so orange didn't exactly go with red or pink. She could just imagine what Ino would say. "This is a match, not a fashion show," she snapped.

The examiner's mouth was twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Begin!"

Sakura threw a kunai straight for Raisu's center of mass and snapped the jacket off her shoulders. As he smirked and dissolved into that cloud of red mist she remembered she sprinted in close and swiped her extremely improvised net through the mist.

Or she would have except that the mist dodged, flying apart wildly. It took nearly thirty seconds for Raisu to come back together, well out of arm's reach. Or jacket's reach. "You're good," he said, eyes narrowed. "Okay, we do this the hard way, then." He stalked toward her, solid all the way.

Sakura smiled tightly and tied the jacket around her waist to keep it handy.

He wasn't any faster than her, she decided after a few exchanges, but he didn't seem to notice shallow cuts; more disturbing, she couldn't see that they were bleeding, which hers certainly were. It was time to try something more energetic, then. She used chakra to give her feet more grip on the shifting sand and slapped an explosive seal onto his arm, spinning away with only a scratch. Raisu cursed and dissolved again, mist flying apart with the explosion. It took him almost a minute to come back this time, and he was panting.

Sakura's eyes narrowed in satisfaction and she flicked out a handful of tags, slapping a few onto her shuriken.

Raisu was trying to keep the distance open, now, and he had better aim than she did, but he didn't seem to have the chakra control to raise his traction. Her arms were getting badly cut up but twice more she got an explosive tag close enough to make him dissolve, and each time he took longer to return. She was getting noticeably light-headed from blood loss, but she calculated that he would run out of strength first.

After the third note, he returned only to collapse to the sand on all fours and gasp, "Surrender..."

"Winner is Haruno Sakura!" the examiner announced, appearing beside them. "Do you require medical attention?" he asked Raisu more conversationally.

Raisu shook his head. "Just... rest," he said raggedly.

The examiner hauled him up by an arm over his shoulder and off toward the stairs. It took Sakura a moment to follow them.

She'd won.

She collapsed beside her teammates and tugged off the jacket to hand back to Naruto. "Thanks," she sighed. "That was just the thing." She let her head fall against the bench back.

She could hear the Rain jounin scolding Raisu. "I told you you needed to work more on techniques that don't rely on your bloodline. Ninjutsu practice first thing, when we get home."

"Good job, Sakura-chan!" Naruto enthused, bouncing a little beside her. He fished a water bottle out of his pack and pressed it into her hand.

"Good thinking," Sasuke said, more quietly, tugging on her shoulder to make her sit up so he could bandage her arm.

She drank and listened to the sounds of Neji demolishing one of the Sand genin, and couldn't stop smiling.

She wasn't smiling three matches later, when the second match of the second round came up as her against Fuunotora Chie. Who turned out to be the brown-haired woman. "Shit," she muttered, hands checking her kunai and seal tags uncertainly as she stood.

"Just remember what I told you," Kakashi-sensei murmured from behind his book, lounging on the bench behind theirs.

"What, that reading porn helps a person relax?" she snapped, sharp with nervousness. Kakashi's eye crinkled up.

"That too, but I meant the part about finishing what you start."

Sakura blinked, remembering a training session almost a year ago, after that mission with the bandit troupe. Kakashi-sensei had set Naruto and Sasuke to practicing defense with each other. Her, though, he'd set a different exercise: to punch into his palm, full force.

She'd thought she'd been doing all right until he'd made her slow down, move through every part of the strike until she stopped with her fist against his hand. "Now finish it," he'd said. "You aren't done with the blow yet; finish it."

So she'd shoved a little more and suddenly realized that she'd never released her shoulder, hadn't completed the shift in her stance, hadn't, more importantly, completed the shift in her chakra. When she had, she'd felt a kind of openness she wasn't familiar with in her taijutsu workouts—but did know from ninjutsu training, when she completed a set of hand seals and released a technique. Kakashi had smiled. "Yes. Like that. Do it again."

For the first time, that day, she had broken a sparring post without chakra-armoring her fist first.

Sakura took a breath and let it out. All the way out. And then she nodded to her teacher and walked calmly down the stairs.

Fuunotora smiled at her faintly as they took their places on the sand. "It seems we've come around to our fight after all."

Sakura bowed a little, silently, as the examiner called "Begin!"

Fuunotora's hands flashed through seals and the sand at their feet twisted into a rope, whipping toward Sakura's knees. The familiar tension of a fight quickened her thoughts, her eyes, her calculations. A chakra rope, she decided as she swapped herself for a stone behind Fuunotora, but taking form from the element around them rather than only Fuunotora's chakra. Perhaps Fuunotora didn't have chakra to spend creating a lot of some element either. All right, then. She wove her hands as quickly as she could through the seals for Dragon Burst; perhaps she couldn't generate enough water to enclose Raisu, but she could make this sand a lot heavier. A layer of water fell over them and the rope singing around toward her slowed considerably; enough to dodge easily. Fuunotora dropped the technique and and they were both still for a moment, watching each other measuringly.

This time it was Sakura who attacked, feeding enough chakra to her feet to speed and steady her as she lunged in, kunai poised to slash. Fuunotora sprang over the line of her attack and tossed a seal onto the ground. The sand flashed startlingly hot under Sakura's feet and steam hissed up all around them, turning Fuunotora into a shadow as she landed again.

Sakura didn't often indulge in appreciating an opponent's skill; in fact, she'd previously considered doing so a symptom of testosterone poisoning. But now she found herself grinning as her thoughts flashed faster and her hands came together in the Ram. Fuunotora fought with her brains, and that Sakura could appreciate.

Her sense of chakra bloomed outward, brushing against a sleek, poised coolness sliding up behind her shoulder, just slow enough to leave the mist undisturbed. Sakura dove for the sand, catching back a hiss at the lingering heat against her palm as she scythed a leg toward Fuunotora's shins. Her shoe brushed fabric as Fuunotora dodged, and then she was twisting hard to evade the pattern of kunai coming toward her. Speed, her mind noted calmly, was almost equal, slightly in Fuunotora's favor.

By the time they both regained their stances, the mist was fading, sucked away by the thirsty air and sand. They stilled, watching each other again, calculating, and Sakura felt a thrill of exhilaration as their hands came together in perfect unison, seal on seal, shaping illusion. She almost laughed as they completed it together, even though she knew her opponent was not, now, where Sakura's eyes said she was.

The reverse was also true, after all. It would be a battle of skill against skill, to see who could control her chakra most finely, shape the illusion most unpredictably. "Right!" Sakura said, eyes gleaming, and was answered by a tiny smile from Fuunotora.

They stalked each other through the rough stone columns and sand, attack after attack, kunai and seal tags and delicate ninjutsu traps of quicksand or concentrated light, each trying to bracket where the other really was. Sakura's breath was coming quick and her skin was tingling with awareness. She shaped a gust of wind to discharge towards her, and yes! there was a break, a swirl of air that nothing she could see should have caused, there, her opponent was there!

Her spear-hand met only emptiness, though, and understanding hit her mind like a hammer—it had been a counter-trap. She twisted, grabbing a shuriken since she was out of kunai, trying to regain her stance, trying to turn and meet what had to be coming...

Hands found her shoulders and blackness swept over her.

She came up out of the black slowly, muscles gradually feeling less leaden and more like they belonged to her, enough so, eventually, for her to lift a hand and rub her eyes open.

"Sakura-chan!" Naruto practically pounced on her. "You're awake, are you okay?"

Sakura propped herself up on an elbow; she was lying on one of the benches at the rear of the balcony, with Naruto's jacket folded under her head. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Think so." She sat up a little gingerly, but everything still seemed attached and working.

And Fuunotora was standing at the foot of the bench, with a fresh bandage across her shoulder.

"You came very close to winning that one; you're fast and strong, as well as smart. You'll be very good, if you keep going," she said, dark eyes level. Sakura snorted, hearing the question buried in that cool statement. Considering how many kunoichi retired once they had kids, she supposed the question wasn't entirely unjustified. Still.

"Of course I'm going to keep going. This is my work." She smiled a bit wryly and waved a hand at Naruto, and Sasuke who was lurking behind him. "And this is my team, and I'm not leaving them." Naruto beamed, and Sasuke looked away only to glance back at her, hidden and sidelong, and she sat back, satisfied.

Fuunotora was smiling too, faint and pleased. "Good."

Okay, maybe the boys had a point about appreciating a good opponent.

"So did I miss any matches?" Sakura asked Naruto, as Fuunotora moved off to rejoin her own team at the balcony rail.

"You missed Neji and Lee, because that went kind of fast. Lee said that his honor demanded he fight Neji with everything he had, and he started opening up that Eight Gates move of his, and Neji got really pissed off at him and shut down his whole chakra system, one, two, three!" Naruto paused, thoughtfully. "Or one through sixty-four, I guess, since he had to hit all the chakra release points. And then he bawled Lee out for being an idiot and never thinking ahead, and said he should have used his taijutsu to break Neji's footing, and they were going to train until Lee got it right if it killed him. And then Gai-sensei got all weepy about his students' passionate teamwork, and he and Lee started coming up with how many times they were going to run around Suna backward, and Neji walked off in a huff."

Sakura could totally see why and decided, not for the first time, that Kakashi wasn't actually the most infuriating teacher they might have gotten.

"So now we're just waiting on the last match to be announced," Naruto finished, cheerfully.

Sakura nodded, but there was something nagging at the back of her mind. Tenten had fought the Sand genin with the taijutsu in the first match of round two. Then it had been her and Fuunotora. Then, apparently, Lee and Neji. That only left...

"Next match!" the examiner called. "Uzumaki Naruto versus Uchiha Sasuke!"

Sakura's breath stopped as Naruto and Sasuke nodded, unsurprised, and made for the stairs. Memory fell on her like a collapsing wall, her horror and hideous feeling of helplessness as her teammates launched killing techniques at each other and didn't even hear her when she tried to stop them. The smooth stone balcony under her feet was the hospital roof, the tension of the exam's final part was the fear in the wake of the invasion and discovery of Uchiha Itachi in their very village. She stumbled to her feet and up to the rail, clutching it like a life-line.

Naruto and Sasuke walked out into the arena, facing each other, and Sakura's hands clenched, white knuckled. Not again. Not again. They couldn't do this again.

Naruto produced two Shadow Clones and held out a hand in what was recognizably the start of Rasengan... and waited.

Sasuke stared for a moment and then actually clapped a hand over his face in what Sakura had no trouble seeing was utter disbelief; Sasuke had always had trouble believing it when Naruto acted like himself yet again. Sakura felt her chest relaxing and her breath starting to even out again.

"You are such an idiot! When you have an advantage you use it, you don't just stand around waiting!" Sasuke yelled, incensed.

"That wouldn't do what it needs to do, though," Naruto argued. "We didn't do it right, last time. This time we'll do it right, and it will work."

"What will work?" Sasuke asked, sounding a little lost though Sakura would bet he was trying to sound exasperated. She'd never been sure if he understood just how transparent that pretense had become, this year.

Naruto waved his arms so that his own clones had to duck, most definitely exasperated. "Last time we fought was all wrong! It was like you thought I was him or something! Of course it didn't work! But I'm not him, I'm me, and you're you, and this time we'll do it right." He held out his hand again, chin up, giving Sasuke a challenging grin. "Come on. This time it will work."

Sasuke stood staring at him for a long breath, and Sakura hoped, hand pressed to her lips, that no one else watching knew enough about them to understand what Naruto had just said. How much of his heart he'd just held out to Sasuke, open handed, daring Sasuke to match him. Daring Sasuke to fight him all out, not as enemies, not as a shadow of Itachi, but as friends. Boys, she thought, blinking back the prickle of water in her eyes. Finally Sasuke huffed out half of a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, fine." He set his feet and held down his own hand in the stance for Chidori, and suddenly the arena was ringing with the fierce surge of their chakra.

Chidori and Rasengan met in the middle of the arena and the air tore apart, and for one suspended moment the two concentrations of chakra strained against each other. And then the moment broke and both techniques slipped and careened into the arena walls.

"Are your teammates always this... vigorous?" Fuunotora asked, clutching the rail a little way down as the whole balcony shook.

"Pretty much, yeah," Sakura admitted, mouth quirked. Down in the arena, Naruto and Sasuke were standing, locked hand to hand still. She thought Sasuke might just have smiled, just a little, before he blew fire right into Naruto's face. Naruto yelped and rolled over the sand with no sense of control or dignity that Sakura could see, only to come up grinning and produce dozens on dozens of Shadow Clones. Sasuke's eyes narrowed, and then he was weaving through the Narutos, spinning and sliding aside from each attack like a leaf on the wind, bursting one after another of them. It was a beautiful bit of work, right up until the end when he abandoned elegance and dove on the real Naruto and put him in a head lock. She couldn't swear to it, but she thought he might have been giving Naruto a noogie when Naruto eeled around and threw Sasuke over his head.

Sakura buried her face in her hands and laughed, helplessly, feeling herself trembling in the wake of relief, of release of the fear she hadn't realized she'd been holding onto this long and this hard.

"Something very bad happened between them, didn't it?" Fuunotora asked from beside her, voice neutral.

Sakura took a few breaths to make her voice come out mostly steady. "I guess both Sand and Leaf know how that goes." And truly, Sasuke's crazed brooding last year had reminded Sakura more of Gaara than she really wanted to think too hard about. Watching a fellow shinobi lose himself was terrifying, and she'd come out of those mad months with far more sympathy for Temari and Kankurou. For Sand in general, really.

After a moment of silence, Fuunotora said, softer, almost inaudible over the crashes and explosions out in the arena, "I see."

Out on the sand, Naruto and Sasuke were doing their best to beat each other into pulp, but only in the way she saw them do at least once a week at home. The arena was pitted with craters and littered with kunai and shards of rock by the time they paused, both of them panting for breath.

"Gotta work on that endurance training some more," Naruto taunted.

Sasuke managed a snort. "And you need to work on that intelligence training some more." He hauled himself upright and threw a fistful of kunai, which Naruto nimbly ducked, dancing aside from the trailing wires.

"Dragon Fire?" he scoffed. "I can blow that away." He shaped the Rasengan again, fast and smooth Sakura had to admit, and stood cockily among the wires, waiting.

Sasuke's mouth quirked just faintly. "Let's see."

"Oh boy," Sakura murmured. She knew that expression.

And, indeed, instead of fire, it was the crackling brightness of lightning that grew in Sasuke's hand. And for one critical moment, Naruto stood still, surprised.

He'd barely gotten out half of his howl of protest before lightning flashed down the wires and grounded into him with a brilliant flash and smell of scorching.

Too experienced with Naruto to leave anything to chance, Sasuke pounced on him and held a kunai to his throat. "Surrender."

"Bastard," Naruto groaned, smoking. "Yeah, yeah, okay fine."

"He's still conscious after that?" Fuunotora asked, startled.

"That's Naruto." Sakura told her wryly, getting up. "If this were just their own training match, they'd go another round after this." She hurried to the top of the stairs to meet them as Sasuke hauled Naruto briskly up.

"That was so cheating," Naruto was arguing.

"We're ninja, you idiot," Sasuke told him, disgusted, "there's no such thing."

Naruto pouted at him and Sakura rolled her eyes as she helped him over to a seat.

"Actually," Kakashi-sensei put in, turning a page of his book, "both of you need to work on distance attacks. If you can adapt Rasengan and Chidori, that's a good start."

"Huh." Naruto looked thoughtful. "Wonder if I could throw it..."

"Next match!" the examiner announced. "Hyuuga Neji against Uchiha Sasuke!"

Sasuke looked down at Naruto for a long moment and finally said, "Guess training against your crazy endurance is useful after all." He turned and stalked back down the stairs, leaving Naruto to make faces at his back.

"Such a jerk," Naruto muttered, but Sakura could hear the downright affection in the insult.

Facing a Hyuuga, Sasuke fell back on his fire techniques as Neji pursued him around the arena. Sakura sighed a little, resigned to the fact that Sasuke never would think to use small traps to mire an opponent's feet in this kind of situation; she supposed she was lucky he was remembering to use wires to tangle Neji long enough for some of the flame strikes to get through.

"He's gonna turn it around," Naruto said, leaning over the rail beside her, eyes fixed on Sasuke. "You can tell. But how?"

"Heavenly Spin uses a lot of chakra," Sakura said thoughtfully. "Maybe he's trying to wear Neji down before he moves?"

"Oh! Yeah, that makes sense." Naruto grinned fiercely. "Right... about... now!"

Neji sprinted for Sasuke again and this time, after two steps away, Sasuke stopped dead, spun in place down to one knee, and met Neji with one empty hand at guard and a kunai that glowed and crackled.

"Hey!" Sakura sat bolt upright. "I thought he couldn't use Chidori more than three times in a day, still!" She was going to wring Sasuke's neck if he wasn't keeping her up to date on what he could do. Who was the mission strategist, here, after all?

Naruto was snickering. "He only hit me with half strength, you know. I'd have been a lot more fried otherwise." He leaned his chin on his palms, smiling down at the arena.

Neji was down, tremors radiating from where the kunai had sunk in. "I surrender," he growled out.

Sasuke thumped down cross legged on the sand, panting. "Good."

Neji accepted a medic's help up the stairs as the winner was announced, but then waved him off just as Naruto had. "He jarred my inner coils, but I can handle that just fine on my own given a little time. Good timing," he added grudgingly to Sasuke, and limped over to his own team.

Sasuke sat heavily, elbows on his knees, head hanging. Naruto seemed not to notice, demanding, "So, what did you do? How did it work?"

Sakura stifled a laugh at Sasuke's faint groan and took pity on him. "He waited until Neji's chakra was too depleted to repel the lightning chakra, and used the kunai to channel it into Neji's chakra system." Sasuke nodded, and she added, "That was a good improvisation, using the weapon as a channel."

"Got the idea from the wires," Sasuke mumbled, eyes closed.

"Next Match! Fuunotora Chie against Matsumura Souji!"

Down in the arena, Fuunotora and the taijutsu specialist were facing off. After several long moments of staring at each other while the spectators started to shift and rustle, Matsumura lifted both his hands. "I forfeit," he announced in a clear, carrying voice.

"Do you have a reason to offer?" the examiner asked after a startled moment.

"I am familiar with Chie-san's skills. They are greater than mine. I don't believe it's necessary to demonstrate that again." Matsumura nodded politely to the examiner and turned to make his way back up the stairs.

"In that case, I suppose we'll continue straight to the final match," the examiner concluded, brows still raised. "Final match! Fuunotora Chie against Uchiha Sasuke!"

Sakura hissed. "That bastard! He did that on purpose, so Sasuke wouldn't have a chance to rest!"

"A display of good strategy, in the broader view," Kakashi-sensei murmured, infuriatingly calm.

Sasuke heaved a deep breath and stood before Sakura could strangle their teacher. "All right."

"It'll be a lot like fighting me," Sakura told him hastily. "Only worse."

Sasuke's mouth quirked. "Wish me luck, then."

"You're blushing." Naruto nudged her, as Sasuke went back down the stairs.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, hands over her warm cheeks.

This match was drawn out. Sasuke, vaguely sensible for once, waited for Fuunotora to come to him, Sharingan active to pierce any illusion and track her ninjutsu. Fuunotora worked around the edges of his stance, opening little pits under his feet to make him shift, setting wire traps he had to use up attention and strength to undo, dodging his fire techniques and kunai alike. In the end it came down to Fuunotora's chakra control, as Sakura had been afraid it would. When Sasuke finally sidestepped into one of her little pit traps to avoid her shuriken, Fuunotora snapped it closed again around his foot with an efficient reversal in a single hand seal and sprinted up behind him to slap her hand against his spine. Sasuke slumped unconscious and Fuunotora let him down to the sand.

"That was what she got you with, at the end," Naruto said. "I, um, kind of freaked out a little when she did it the first time."

Sakura followed his sidelong glance at a slightly scorched patch of stone and elbowed him gently. "Sap."

"Well, how was I supposed to know it was just sleep?" he defended himself, indignant. "I mean, the spine! You can do all sorts of bad shit to someone that way!"

"Winner of the tournament! Fuunotora Chie of the Sand!" the examiner announced.

Naruto made a horrible face and Sakura found herself laughing. "It's a better end than the last exam had," she told him, inarguably. "Come on. Let's get Sasuke up here to sleep it off while they decide who passed."

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Eight

Sakura and Orochimaru conclude their bargain, and their betrayal. Sasuke and Naruto do their best to catch Sakura as she falls out of this mission. Character death. Drama, Action, Porn, I-4

"Once more," Orochimaru told them.

Sakura nodded and wove her hands through the six seals for activation. She rocked on her toes as the interlocking seals spread over her back and shoulders roared to life with wild power that flooded her whole body. This time, at least, she was expecting the jumble of elemental "tastes" in it and they didn't dizzy her. She rode the upsurge, feeling her seal like a typhoon wind at her back. But this wind blew through her, poured out of her hands and feet, driving them against the floor and walls of the stone arena as she tumbled and flew, evading every one of the blades Kabuto threw. Her hands flickered through the seals for the Violent Wave, faster than she could have even seen before, and water crashed down where he'd been.

Sakura spun on her toes, tracking him, holding the inrush of energy with a light hand, balancing it against the part of her that still tasted of her own spirit. This was like playing a game of shoji against Shikamaru and playing the koto at the same time. She could do it, though. She could do it.

She saw Kabuto gathering himself for another attack, caught the faint haze at the corner of her eye that often showed up when someone laid illusion on her, and leapt just as a wire trap snapped down. "Kai!" The dispelling swept the arena, blowing away the seeming of rock Kabuto had hidden himself behind, and she touched down, braced a foot, and drove herself towards him like the wind.

The hint of something coming was barely a crinkle down her nerves, barely a suspicion, but in this state it was enough. She turned in mid-air, arms crossed and guarded by her kunai, and Orochimaru's snake lashing toward her back got a knife in the mouth instead. The force of the attack drove her back against the stone wall, bruisingly, but she got her feet under her in time and her body held, coiled, absorbed the force. Hidden for that one still moment, she exchanged herself with blinding speed for a loose stone and drove her knife toward Orochimaru's unguarded back.

Kabuto caught it on his glove-guard, just short.

"Good," Orochimaru purred, eyes alight, and Sakura knew her own were glittering back at him. She could feel the air on her bared teeth. She loved this, that he would expect her, prefer her, to attack him from behind, to test him exactly the way he tested her.

It took a moment to draw herself back and disengage from Kaubto, and a longer one to make herself fold her hands into the Horse and send her seal to sleep once more.

"Very good," Orochimaru approved as Kabuto straightened and Sakura sagged against the wall behind her, wobbly with the sudden release of that pressure on her own chakra. "Because of its construction, you will always require hand seals to activate this, but that seems a minor drawback all things considered. I think we may call this operation a success." He folded his arms, smugly pleased.

Sakura nodded. "It doesn't give me any skill I don't already have," she reported wearily, "and the effort of controlling the nature energy is very wearing. My absolute endurance is still the upper limit on this; it's hard to feel my strength depleting directly, too, I have to pay attention to the stability of the balance I'm holding. But while I can hold out, everything is stronger, faster, clearer."

"Your abilities are boosted at least threefold," Kabuto confirmed, brushing himself off and straightening his tools back into their usual impeccable array. "That was more than the final test subject achieved."

Sakura hauled herself upright and stretched; the release took some getting used to, but she thought she could see already how to balance her new strength, its duration, and the weakness after it in her strategy.

"So?" Orochimaru cocked his head at her. "Are you satisfied?"

Sakura straightened her shoulders and nodded. "I am. Have you decided where you want me to show myself, to draw Naruto and Sasuke in?"

"Hmm." He tapped a finger against his lips. "It should be something showy, of course." He smiled slowly. "I'd thought to send you against one of Akatsuki. Kabuto might enjoy the chance to kill his old master, and Sasori's grudge has become wearing."

Sakura gave him a skeptical look. "And how were you planning to get one of them alone? Every mission of theirs we've spied on was a pair." And even with the seal she wasn't about to take on two of Akatsuki, not with only Kabuto to back her up.

"Unfortunately, yes. They're getting more consistent about that. A shame." Orochimaru waved it off. "Well, then. Two renegades from Cloud seem to have crossed through Hot Springs Country to our eastern border and be harassing our border post. At least one of them is jounin; Karajin Ryouta, if I'm not mistaken. Vanquishing them should be a good debut for you."

Sakura snorted, amused by this phrasing of it. "I'll want another week or two to train, if I'm taking a jounin plus helpers. But that should do."

"Excellent. I'll have a letter sent to the Daimyou, then, he's been getting really quite tedious about the matter." Orochimaru swept out the door, leaving Sakura mouthing "tedious?" at his back with raised brows.

"Orochimaru-sama does like to apply all his attention to his researches," Kabuto murmured, but Sakura thought she could hear a thread of laughter under his bland respect.

"He should pay better attention to politics, or else get someone who can," she said firmly. "Or even he won't stay 'Otokage' long."

"Well, perhaps that will be you, Sakura-san." While she was processing the combination of pleasure and wariness that answered his suggestion, his recognition, he added, "You know, you might be able to activate your seal without the hand seals."

(What agenda of his will that serve?)

(useful for when I turn on them)

Sakura crossed her arms and leaned back against the stone wall, eyeing him curiously, not shaking her head like she wanted to a little from the echoing under-persona thoughts. "In time, I suppose. I know a technique one is very familiar with can be formed without seals eventually."

Kabuto smiled. "Ah, but even before that, if your control is fine enough, you can form the seals in your spirit without using your hands."

Sakura whistled softly. "Seriously, no wonder you make such a good spy." He laughed.

"Indeed."

Did Kabuto think her loyal enough to Orochimaru, now, that this would serve and not harm his master? Or was this another step in Kabuto's own game? Always that question, with him.

Well, there was no way to know but to play it out.

"So I need to form the seals without actually forming them?" Sakura frowned, thoughtful. "That... makes sense, actually. I suppose familiarity couldn't make the hand motions unnecessary, otherwise. I hadn't quite thought that out before."

"All you've ever needed is a little pointer here and there," Kabuto murmured.

"I'll do my best to justify your confidence," she returned, meeting his eyes. They gleamed.

"I'm sure you will, Sakura-san."

The shinobi at the eastern border post were definitely glad to see her.

"The second one isn't jounin rank, I don't think," Tomita, the chuunin in charge of the post, reported to her, "but he's still strong, especially with illusions. Two caravans have been plundered because we just couldn't find them."

"That should make things interesting," Sakura murmured, turning over possibilities in her head. "I understand that Karajin is a taijutsu specialist?" That was a strong team, if they cooperated at all. She had to assume they did.

"Yes, ma'am."

There were advantages, Sakura reflected with some amusement, to Orochimaru's habit of giving her a new team every month or so. Many of the genin and chuunin of Sound knew her or knew of her from a partner.

"...know about her?" one of the post's two genin was whispering to the other, behind her, in fact. "They call her Orochimaru-sama's left hand!"

The rage and thirst for strength in her heart drank that in and purred.

"All right," she said at last. "We need to take out Karajin's partner first. How long can you keep Karajin busy for, while I stalk the illusionist?"

Tomita's mouth twisted. "Five minutes, at the most."

"I'll organize some traps and maneuvers for you to use against him, then. That should be long enough." She pulled a fresh sheet of paper across his desk and started sketching the ground in front of the border crossing. "Once I've dealt with the partner, fall back to here."

"That far?" Tomita stared at her. "Haruno-san... we won't be able to support you at all from that far back."

She smiled tightly. "Don't worry about that."

She could tell he wanted to argue, but in the end he kept his mouth shut and only offered a few insights on the terrain around the post and the border, and showed her to her room himself.

The next caravan came two days later, not coincidentally one from Fire Country, returning from Lightning Country and still trailing its Leaf escort. Since Hot Springs had dissolved their village, no one trusted local escort across that land. And even traveling through a country whose village one's own village was at odds with was better than a country where no one was keeping the bandits in check.

Sakura perched on the gate pillars that marked the border, observing the caravan as it approached. She'd wagered with herself on just how Karajin's partner was disguising himself or the target caravans. He almost had to be hiding in the wagons themselves; the longer someone had to weave an illusion, after all, the more strongly it took and the less chance of anyone pulling free of it.

Which was why Sakura crouched with her eyes closed as the caravan passed under her, hands in the Snake, watching her own chakra. The one skill that using her new seal had sharpened fastest was sensing the flows and small differences in her own chakra, and, sure enough, she felt the brush of another influence against her as her ears told her the third wagon passed under the pillars. She traced the touch back, narrowing down the location of its source slowly, feeling like she was squinting to pick out details at dusk, and wishing she had Sasuke's eyes present to do this faster.

(Don't think about that.)

But there. There it was, the source of the subtle disturbance, which she was sure she wouldn't see if she opened her eyes. Not without performing a dispelling, and that would make her far too obvious. Instead she waited, concentrating, following the trace she'd found.

The moment the caravan passed all the way into Sound, the ground under the front wagon exploded. Now, Sakura thought fiercely at Tomita and his team. And, indeed, she heard them coming, heard them ordering Karajin to halt, heard the Cloud-nin's laugh.

Felt the flare of chakra from her target, brushing over her own as he reached out to confuse their senses.

Now. She dropped down from the pillar without opening her eyes, feeling the tingle of exhilaration and terror as the world whirled around her in un-solid flashes of chakra. She suddenly had far more respect for the discipline the Hyuuga must exercise to fight like this. She had to open her eyes at the last moment, to land safely, but she had burned the location of her target into her memory and came out of her landing crouch with an unhesitating thrust at, apparently, thin air.

The world wavered just faintly, and there was a shinobi on the end of her knife, bleeding and glaring at her. Sakura bared her teeth and whirled, heel smashing into his temple.

Few genjutsu specialists trained to fight without the aid of their illusions. Their loss.

"Get the caravan under cover!" she ordered as she sprang down from the wagon and bounded toward the whirl of combat where Karajin was throwing Tomita and the genin, now including one from Leaf as well, around with careless ease. She set her feet at the edge of the fight, wove her hands through the activation of her seal, and shouted, hoarse with the rush of strength, "Get back!"

The battered Sound ninja sprang away from Karajin, Tomita hauling the Leaf-nin with them as she'd directed him to, and Sakura launched herself forward.

It felt like the world should blur with the speed of her strike, his guard, her rebound, the whirl of blows before they broke apart. But everything was clear, almost etched in her vision: Karajin's surprise, the narrowing of his eyes, the way he set his center to take her on seriously.

Not that she was such a fool as to face a taijutsu specialist head-on. She feinted another rush only to veer aside, hands flashing, and slapped her hand down to initiate the Rock Pillar Prison. While Karajin was busy breaking the pillars, she sank herself into the power of her mixed chakra and wove an illusion. Sight, sound, scent, touch, all of them told Karajin that she was not where she was—now ten degrees to the right, now fourteen to the left, always shifting. Exaltation surged through her as she completed the technique; this was more powerful, more complete, than anything she'd ever have been able to do before. And once the illusion closed around him it was easy, so easy, to slide past his misaimed strike and drive her knuckles into his throat. Cartilage crunched under her hand, and his eyes snapped to focus on her for one breathless moment before he attempted to inhale and passed out.

Sakura stood over him for one moment, savoring her victory. But she could feel her endurance starting to wane, and folded her hands through the release of her seal before it got any worse. She'd timed it right, this time, she thought, taking deep slow breaths as the world-energy flowed past without touching her again. This time she didn't fall down.

So she was on her feet and only a little worn-looking when the caravaners crept out of hiding, starting to chatter with relief. Tomita and his genin were approaching from the other side, the Leaf-nin trailing behind them.

"Um, shinobi-san," the caravan master started hesitantly, bobbing a bow to her, "the body..."

"Yes." Sakura waved a hand at one of the Sound genin who trotted over to haul the illusionist's body out of the wagon. "We'll take care of them." Orochimaru would want both, no doubt. She mustered a smile for the caravan master. "I'm sorry you were troubled by this. I think I can assure you the rest of your route is safe, though." She nodded at the Leaf genin, who nodded warily back.

Tomita's genin had clearly spent some of the fight filling his ears with tales of her—also as she'd directed. The man was no one she knew personally, which would make things easier. He'd have no personal stake in trying to persuade her back to Konoha this moment, and had just had a vivid demonstration of why he didn't want to try anything other than persuasion. She could almost see the moment he reached the decision to let well enough alone and just report when he got home.

Tomita saluted her, crisp and correct. "Thank you, Haruno-san!"

His tone startled her. It took her a moment to realize that this wasn't just putting on a good face for outsiders. Everything, from the straightness of his spine to the glow in his eyes, said that this was real.

Real respect.

The tautness of her old bitterness eased another notch even as her thoughts jangled against each other.

(Useful for keeping my cover in the end-game.)

(it's not right, not here...)

"That will do very nicely," Orochimaru said, rather distractedly as he prodded at Karajin's body with a chakra probe and scribbled another note. He finally looked up and cocked his head at Sakura, where she leaned against the lab wall. "And what will you do, once I have Sasuke and perhaps Uzumaki as well in my hands, and our bargain is ended?"

Sakura hesitated. "I've... been thinking about that."

His smile was knowing. "Hmm?"

"I haven't done badly out of my time here," she admitted. "Even aside from the seal. Hidden Sound respects me." And it was very sweet, that respect, that deference, the speed with which any Sound-nin under her command obeyed her. It tasted sweet to every part of her, and the aftertaste of wrongness in her heart was easy enough to hide.

"So?" he murmured. "Would you swear yourself to Sound, after all? To me?"

Sakura returned his gaze for a long moment and finally nodded. She stood away from the wall and touched her fist to her heart in salute, straight-backed and on her feet. "I offer myself as a shinobi of Sound, and my life into the hands of Sound's Master."

A flash of annoyance broke through the lurking amusement in his eyes at the title she used, but Sakura just looked back blandly. She wasn't calling the village leader for a country the size of Fire's peninsula Kage. In the end, Orochimaru's lips quirked, acknowledging the fact. "I accept you as a shinobi of Otogakure," he murmured. "Your life will not be spent lightly."

Kabuto looked up from across the room, where he was working on the illusionist's body, with a cheerful smile. "I'm so glad you chose to stay, Sakura-san. Welcome!"

That open, friendly smile sent a chill down her spine that was harder to hide than her gut's protest over swearing to Sound. "Thank you, Kabuto-senpai," she answered softly, wondering yet again what his game was and what her place was in it.

(We'll all know soon.)

(soon)

She wondered how Naruto and Sasuke would react to the news that should be reaching Konoha in just another week or two.

"She's what?!"

Sasuke stood very still as Naruto surged to the edge of the Hokage's desk, feeling ice settling in his stomach. "Are you telling us," he said, very evenly, "that Sakura has been with Orochimaru these last eight months? That was the undercover mission she left on?"

"Yes," Tsunade answered, sober.

"Are you all crazy?!" Naruto howled, and Sasuke was glad because that was just what he wanted to say and Naruto could say it louder.

"She volunteered and planned the infiltration herself," Tsunade snapped. "She was working with Intelligence; she knew just how much pressure Orochimaru was putting on the village."

To find me. She did it for me. The thoughts weighed down on Sasuke like lead, and pressed out the rough whisper, "Why?"

Kakashi finally stirred by the shelves he'd been leaning against since they got here, apparently reading. "Because her team means more to her than anything else, and she has the courage to act on that."

"No one else could do the job as well," Tsunade added as Naruto started to round on Kakashi, bristling. "Her cover... well. Anyone looking at it from the outside would find it very convincing."

"What cover?" Naruto demanded, voice hard.

Tsunade looked back at him levelly. "The cover of a very skilled shinobi who nevertheless has very little power, teamed up with an acknowledged genius and the host who controls the chakra of the Nine-tails."

Naruto flinched back, eyes wide. "But... but Sakura doesn't..." He spun around to stare at Kakashi, openly appealing. "She doesn't, does she?"

Kakashi reached out a long arm and whapped Naruto over the head with his book. "Idiot," he pronounced. "Of course Sakura doesn't resent you. Either of you. She loves you. But," he added as Naruto visibly melted into a puddle of relief, "anyone who didn't know you all, and know you well, would find it easy to believe she did. Especially someone as obsessed with power as Orochimaru."

That made sense, even though Sasuke felt like his brain was frozen, his thoughts crystallized. Finally one thought made it through that felt important and he cleared this throat. "Why are you telling us this now?"

There was compassion in the Fifth's eyes as she met his. "Because you two are part of the end of this. The bargain she struck, as her cover, was that Orochimaru would give her the power he once promised you; in return, she would bring you to him. We've just received a report that Sakura has surfaced, acting openly for Hidden Sound. For Orochimaru's consumption, the story is that Naruto, hearing this, drags you off with him to reclaim your teammate. That's what Orochimaru is counting on, and what Sakura has been preparing him to think all this time."

"In reality of course," Kakashi put in, propping an elbow on a shelf. "You'll be the front of the extraction and execution team. The three of you together should be able to kill Orochimaru, and there will be a support team shadowing you to help get you out after, while our largest force strikes for his major bases as soon as his death is confirmed."

Naruto was settling down as they listened to this. "All right, then," he half-growled. "You should have told us sooner, but I guess this is okay."

Sasuke listened to the whispers eight months and Orochimaru running round and round his head, and wasn't so sure. "Is she... all right?" he finally asked, low. "Do we know?"

"We won't know for sure until you get there," Kakashi said quietly.

Naruto frowned again, ferociously, looking back and forth between Kakashi and Sasuke. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Kakashi and Tsunade exchanged a long look and Kakashi stood. "Come on down to Intelligence, and we'll get you briefed."

Sakura was the only thought that came through the jumble in Sasuke's head clearly. The rest was just a slow twisting in his heart, where the friendship he'd acknowledged and the tenderness he hadn't quite put a hot, cutting edge on his fear. Sakura!

Orochimaru was deeply amused as he read over the message scroll. "They're racketing through the south of the country like a charging boar through underbrush."

"That's Naruto," Sakura muttered, arms crossed. "So, how are we doing this? Ambush?"

"Of sorts, of sorts. You and I and Kabuto will go to meet our impetuous young shinobi, I think. Quite openly. Kabuto can take the young Uchiha undamaged, I imagine. I wish to see what Uzumaki is made of." He turned from his pacing through his shadowy main hall and captured her gaze, smooth and hypnotic as one of his snakes. "And will you be able to fight your former partner beside me? Sakura?"

Sakura looked back at him, silent for a moment. "You're the one who gave me power. And..." she looked aside, "a place. A real one, fit for a real shinobi." She lifted her chin. "It's the place I chose. I'll stand here." It was all the truth, except the last part, and even that was true enough the way she meant it. She would stand here, because her duty demanded it.

(and strike from here)

"Excellent," Orochimaru purred. "Let us prepare ourselves and be on our way, then."

Sakura bowed her head and went to pack her gear.

All it had taken was one message, left in the rooms Naruto and Sasuke had reserved, to bring them here, to this clearing in the southern forests of Sound Country. Sakura stood just behind Orochimaru's shoulder, controlling her breathing carefully. She couldn't control the pounding of her heart, and only hoped that it seemed reasonable to the two men next to her.

"Sakura!" Naruto took a step toward her across the clearing, and halted as his eyes flickered up to her forehead protector and the device of Sound on it. They hadn't expected that, then. (Good; it will help him react better.) "Sakura? What...?" He looked genuinely lost, and Sakura held hard to her persona, to eight months of practice. They made her voice convincingly hard when she answered.

"Sound gave me real work, and a real place. Should it be a surprise that I swore to them?"

"To that?" Naruto hollered, absolutely incensed, pointing at Orochimaru.

Sakura flicked a glance at her Master, gauging how soon he would move. "He understands me." She looked back at them, cool, and caught Sasuke's eye for just a sliver of an instant. His mouth tightened and Orochimaru made an interested sound.

"Hmm. Perhaps I left off courting you too early, Sasuke-kun?" He smiled slowly and opened a hand, palm up. "My offer is still good, as Sakura can tell you."

Sakura didn't miss the faint crook of his fingers in Kabuto's direction, though, and she took one last breath for balance, courage, hope, and sank her mind into the concentration Kaubto had taught her, pressing her very soul into the forms to awaken her seal. Now. It had to be now. Dog. Monkey. Slowly, feeling her nerves creaking, Horse.

"I think I have power enough already," she heard Sasuke say, distantly.

"Against Itachi?" Sasuke stiffened and Orochimaru chuckled. "Indeed, I could tell you a great deal about that man."

Monkey. Serpent.

"Why?" Naruto challenged, suspicious. "You took Sakura away from us! What do you want with Sasuke?"

Orochimaru sighed. "Ah, I should have taken you three years ago. You didn't question so much, then."

Naruto's eyes narrowed, starting to burn. "You don't want anything good, then," he growled, hands slamming together, and two Shadow Clones appeared, leaping to form a Rasengan.

Wait for it. Wait for it. Hold on. Sakura set her teeth, sweat starting along her hairline and trickling down her back as she held on to the shape of the Serpent in her soul. The next seal would be the last. She unfocused her eyes, watching all of them, watching Kabuto especially.

Orochimaru eyed Naruto with interest. "Mmm. That's nothing I haven't already learned from that buffoon, but I suppose there might be more to you. We shall see."

Sasuke's eyes were red, piercing and watchful. Naruto was growling as he crouched to drive the Rasengan forward. Kabuto was relaxed and smiling. Orochimaru laughed and crooked a forefinger at her, not looking around as Naruto started to move. "Sakura."

Horse.

Power roared through her like a river bursting a dam and Sakura drove a spear hand hardened with chakra, with all the strength and speed the seal could give her, straight through Orochimaru's spine and out his chest, blood flooding hot around her arm.

Naruto shouted, Sasuke vanished, she caught Kaubto's hands lifting in the corner of her eye. She punched the base of Orochimaru's skull, spinning around as his body jolted off her hand, using every bit of speed she had to form a Fire Wall to meet Kaubto...

Who leapt back.

They all froze, the Rasengan blowing into nothing as Naruto plowed to a stop. Sakura held the Wall just short of release, poised.

"Ah," Orochimaru's hoarse voice broke the stillness, and Sakura's eyes widened with tangled horror and frustration and guilt. "I see I didn't quite have you long enough. I salute your cunning, little kunoichi. I thought I had you when you swore to me."

Not before that? But Sakura pushed the thought down, pushed all her thoughts down under the needs of this moment, and snapped, "Naruto. Make sure he dies. Sasuke, Kabuto."

"Already there," Sasuke's voice came from the trees above Kabuto, and a rush of gratitude that he remembered her strategy-shapes so well, and still trusted them, shook her.

"Naruto," Sakura repeated, husky, when he didn't move. She could hear the breath he let out.

"Yeah. Okay." His voice was tight, but she knew he'd do what he had to. She knew it, down in the heart of her, where she was burning and aching.

Orochimaru's laugh was wet and raspy. "I salute you, indeed. Sakura."

Despite all the control she could muster, a shudder raked through her and one word wrenched out. "Yes." She knew.

There was a faint, silken sound, and she gave thanks that medical ninja were thoroughly trained in giving mercy. The open glow of Naruto's chakra washed past her and a burst of flame followed, actinic and scorching. "Done," Naruto said, rough.

Kabuto, who hadn't moved yet, eyes locked with Sakura's, sighed. "Ahh. That was a waste, Sakura-san. There were years of use left in him."

"My game had to conclude before yours," she said, low. She was starting to feel the strain of balancing her seal's chakra; how was this going to end?

"So I see." He smiled and spread his hands. "Well, so it goes. But, you realize, this leaves you alone to face the greater threat."

"Itachi?" Sasuke asked, voice as harsh as Naruto's.

Kabuto laughed. "Oh, goodness no. Well, not in and of himself. No, no, Akatsuki. Orochimaru was one of them once, you know. He knew some of their plans." He sighed, sounding sincerely rueful. "I don't think I'd quite gotten all of what he knew. It really is a shame." He shrugged as if to set it aside. "Well, you're on your own against them, now, since I have no intention of standing in their way myself. Few of them would be of any interest to me; afterward... well, we'll see."

"You talk like you think you'll be walking away free," Sasuke observed.

Kabuto smiled into Sakura's eyes, and she remembered that he'd been part of all those exercises to time her endurance under the seal. "You didn't find the location of the last remote base, Sakura-san," he said softly. "The one that holds most of the experimental subjects. The woman in charge won't let them go, you know, even with his death." An artful pause, and she could see exactly what was coming. "But I could free them."

After a stretched moment, trying to weigh morality against morality, as her control pulled tighter and tighter, Sakura said, thinly, "All right."

"Sakura!" Naruto stared at her. "He can't possibly escape all three of us! Interrogation can get it out of him."

Sakura shook her head, feeling time bleeding away, and with it her margin of survival. "It's about to be just two of you and a casualty, and he knows it. He'll keep his word on the deal. I think it's the best we'll get right now."

"Acute as always, Sakura-san," Kabuto murmured, and Sakura bared her teeth.

"If we ever meet again, I'll get something better out of you."

He gave her a genuine smile, dark and pleased, and bowed to her. "Afterward, then." And vanished.

Sakura let Fire Wall go, wove her hands through the release of her seal and sagged to her hands and knees, panting.

"Sakura!" It was Sasuke beside her, holding her shoulders. "Naruto, get the flare up to call the backup squad in!"

Fire burst again, far overhead, and Sakura hauled her head up to look at her teammates. Her... her friends. Yes. The ones she'd done this to protect, and that had been her desire, her free choice, her need. Even though eight months whispered that it could only have been misguided guilt or the need to prove herself, mustn't it?

Naruto flung himself down beside them, eyes wide and worried. "Sakura, are you okay? What's wrong?" Even as he spoke his hands were passing down the line of her spine, and he frowned deeply. "You're completely drained, what did you do?"

"Seal," she panted. "Nature energy. Hard to control." And then she laughed and flung her arms, one still red with Orochimaru's blood, around their shoulders. "Finally. It's finally you... you came." Her certainty that they always would pulled hard against her whispering knowledge that they only would because they understood nothing of her, pulled like scar tissue and she gasped with the inner pain. She freed her hands, swaying until they caught her shoulders again, and formed the first seal to undo the Heart In a Net technique, struggling to remember the second through the growing pain.

"Haruno!" Miuhara was suddenly beside her, dropping from the trees with a whole squad of Leaf-nin, and he grabbed her hands. "Wait, not yet!"

"Have to," she gasped. "It's pulling loose anyway!"

"Shit." He stared at her in the babbling swirl of the squad splitting, some dashing on. After Kabuto, she thought fuzzily. Of course. "All right," he said at last and grabbed for Naruto. "Uzumaki! You're a healer. Listen up. She's been under a neural realignment technique for the past eight months, and we have to release it now. You'll have to stabilize her."

"I don't know how to do work that fine!" Naruto exclaimed, a little panicked, but he knelt beside her, hands reaching out anyway.

"That's why you listen to me. Uchiha, hold on to her. Haruno. You understand this is going to be more work for you?"

"Need to re-key on my own?" she gritted through her teeth through the nasty, tearing ache. "Yeah. Just... leave me with them. Be okay."

"I'm taking your word for it, and you'd damn well better be right. Release it now. Dog, Boar, Dog, Horse, Bird." For a moment, breaking through the intensity of his orders, he grinned. "Go ahead and scream if you need to. This will hurt."

Sakura formed the seals, one after another, almost mindless, focusing only on the shape of them. And as her hands folded into the Bird, something snapped loose inside her and lashed through her mind like fire.

She did scream.

When she could make the sounds around her make sense again, Miuhara was speaking low and quick to Naruto, talking him through one seal after another, and her hands were clenched bone-grindingly tight on Sasuke's shoulders. Sasuke held her tight, one leg hooked over hers to keep her from thrashing out from under Naruto's hands. At least she thought that was why. Her mind felt bruised.

"All right," Miuhara said at last. "That's as good as we can do for now." He drew a long breath. "She says the two of you can help her re-establish her normal pattern of thought and response, so you'll need to stay with her. I'll get a few of the squad to escort you to a secure site." He stood. "Anything you can do to remind her who she usually is, you do it, understand?"

Sasuke's arms tightened around her. "We understand. Come on, help me get her upright," he added over her head.

Sakura wobbled to her feet, an arm over each of their shoulders, looking around at the quiet bustle of the squad. "Feel like a dishrag," she panted. "With a headache."

"You've earned it, so just let us take you somewhere safe for a little, okay?" Naruto looked torn between scowling at her ferociously and giving her puppy-dog eyes. The alternation made her giggle.

"Kay."

Three of the squad closed in around them and Sasuke said quietly, "Let's go."

By the time they reached the nearest town, Sakura had her breath back, though she still ached all over. She was very glad to duck in the window of the house their escort directed them to.

"Food first," Naruto declared. "You drained yourself way too hard, and I want a look at that seal."

"Bath first," Sakura countered, trying not to look too hard at what still spattered her chest and arm.

Sasuke rolled his eyes, reassuringly normal. "You get food," he told Naruto. "I'll make sure she doesn't drown before you get back."

He seemed to take that seriously, too, helping her get undressed and insisting she sit down before he pulled off her sandals. "I'm not really injured," she protested.

"I think you are, actually." He touched the base of her skull, very lightly. "Up here. That Miuhara guy said you'd been under a technique that affects your mind and nerves, and you said it was pulling loose. Besides," he set her sandals aside and tugged off his own shirt, "Kakashi-sensei said to do whatever we could for you, on the way home, and not to let you overextend yourself. He's done this before, right?"

Sakura's mouth pulled into a crooked smile. "Yeah. He probably makes a better senpai than Kabuto." But thinking about that made her head hurt more, so she ignored Sasuke's choking sound and concentrated on getting all her tools out of her pants so she could throw them in the wash.

Sasuke was quiet for a few breaths, but seemed willing to follow her lead. "Come on, the water's hot now. I'll get your back."

They were both halfway through scrubbing down by the time Naruto got back with what looked like half a kitchen. "Hey, no fair!" he told Sasuke, who was indeed washing Sakura's back at the moment, but he was grinning.

"You can get her hair," Sasuke told him. "She hasn't said so, but I think that headache's still there."

Sakura blushed. "Okay, okay, I probably did hurt something, but seriously—"

"You hush," Naruto scolded her, and she blinked. He gave her a medic-scowl. "I can't do much about healing the actual nerves yet, but I can sure take care of bruising and muscle damage. So eat this and quit arguing."

Sakura took the steamed bun he put in her hand and ate, blinking back sudden tears at that rough, straightforward care while Naruto hopped from foot to foot getting out of his clothes.

She hadn't cried in eight months.

Naruto's fingers really did feel good, moving over her skull, draining away little bits of heat and pressure until it didn't hurt when he worked in some shampoo. "Thanks," she sighed, as she reached for the sprayer to rinse off. "That did help."

"Eat some more," he told her, and when she glanced over her shoulder he was blushing a little.

"Water's ready," Sasuke said from the other side of the room.

Sakura sighed with pleasure as they sank into the steaming tub and giggled when Naruto pointedly put a glass of cold water and a plate of dumplings beside her. "Tsunade-sama has been training you well." She leaned back and asked, softly. "Tell me about it. Talk to me. About the village and everything." She needed to remember.

"It's really cool," Naruto started, only a little hesitantly. "I kind of suck at the chemistry, so she finally gave up on antidotes and taught me how to cleanse blood with chakra techniques instead. I won't be able to do Mystic Palms for another year, she says, but I think she's hedging. I bet I can do it in another six months!"

"Your control isn't good enough yet," Sasuke observed, dampeningly, and Naruto glowered.

"So I'll use Shadow Clones for that too!"

"I'll look forward to hearing what the Fifth has to say about that."

Sakura sipped her water and nibbled her dumplings and let herself float in the familiarity of their bickering, of Naruto's boasting which wasn't just boasts any more, of Sasuke's dry, quiet humor. It warmed her, like the water did, deep inside. She could feel her heart finally relaxing.

And that was when she completely dissolved into tears.

Naruto and Sasuke left off their argument over whether Jiraiya was a more annoying teacher than Kakashi, and gathered in around her at once. Naruto just held her and made really kind of funny soothing noises while Sasuke rubbed her back, slow and quiet.

"I liked it," she wrenched out past the sobs, past the unsteady ache deep inside. "I hated it, I hated him, but by the end I liked being there, I liked that he wanted me, he respected me, I hate this!"

"He was good at finding what you wanted and using it," Sasuke murmured. "It isn't your fault."

"Yeah, look how long you went, and you still did everything you needed to," Naruto put in, anxious. "I mean, he never corrupted you, not for real, and that had to be really, really hard! It's okay."

That made her cry some more, but she was laughing a little too. Naruto really was good at seeing to the heart. And Sasuke... Sasuke understood.

"Come on," Sasuke said, gentler than she thought she'd ever heard him. "Let's get out before we really do drown."

They didn't seem to want to let her out of arm's reach, now, which made drying off a bit comical, but that was okay. She wanted to be close. When they spread out the futons and lay down, she was glad to be held again.

They're my team. They love me, and I love them. It's okay again. She pressed closer against Naruto and tugged shyly on Sasuke's wrist, and made a contented sound when he slid up snugly against her back. It felt good, they felt solid and made her feel solid too, and, oh wow, Sasuke's hands felt really good rubbing her shoulders. She sighed happily and it was the most natural thing in the world to lift her head and brush her lips against Naruto's.

Naruto made a slightly startled sound, but he kissed her back, shy and soft.

"Sure you're ready?" Sasuke asked against her shoulder, and she buried her head in Naruto's chest and laughed, suddenly remembering their last year at the Academy, and the pedantic recommendations in their textbook for how to handle "intimacy within a field team".

"Textbook," she managed to gasp, and that set Naruto off too. Sasuke just snorted at both of them. When she'd recovered a little she leaned her head back against Sasuke's shoulder and said, softly. "Thank you. Yeah. This is a good time, I think."

"Mm. I think so too." He slid his hands down her body and spread them across her stomach, and her breath caught at the little rush of heat between her legs. "Naruto?"

"Yeah," Naruto answered, husky, and bent his head to nuzzle the arch of her neck.

It felt good, so good, to feel their hands on her, to feel their skin under her palms, to know she was wanted and they were hers and it was all going to be okay. All of their hands were calloused, from knives and wire, but Naruto's were warm on her breasts and Sasuke's fingers sliding carefully between her legs made her gasp. She tightened her arms around Naruto and pulled him down to kiss her, wet and open-mouthed, breath coming deeper as Sasuke made a satisfied sound and rubbed his fingers against her.

She freed her mouth at last to gasp, "I want..." and Sasuke left off mouthing her shoulder and said, husky, "Yeah, just let me..." His fingers slid back further and she moaned as two pressed into her. Sasuke just about purred and slid his fingers free, reaching under the curve of her rear this time to press three in. That stretched a bit, but it felt good too. Sakura wrapped her leg around Naruto's hip and rocked against him, panting; well, so was he, and she liked the feel of his arms locked around her. She shivered when Sasuke nibbled on her ear and murmured, "Ready?"

"Very," she said, fervently, and Sasuke reached forward, and she heard Naruto gasp as Sasuke guided him against her. When she looked up, Naruto's eyes were so wide she had to smile at him and ask, a little teasing, "Ready?"

"Yeah," Naruto whispered, and that made her feel warm all the way through. And then he pushed against her, biting his lip, and the solid feeling of him inside her made her press closer, breathless. "Oh."

"Okay?" Sasuke asked, softly, hands kneading her lower back, stroking over her thighs, and she nodded. "Yeah. Mm, more." Naruto gasped a quick laugh and pushed in, and she moaned openly; it felt good. So good, to have them both pressed up against her, all of them moving together. When Sasuke's fingers slid between her folds again she shuddered with the tighter twist of pleasure. "Oh... oh yes." Naruto was rocking against her faster, kissing her hot and open and breathless, and she kissed back, liking it when he moaned, jerking hard against her.

"Fuck," Naruto muttered. "That was... um."

Sasuke laughed. "Good thing there are two of us." Naruto stuck out his tongue and Sakura laughed too, a little light-headed, and it really was funny as they fumbled around a little, and then Sasuke was sliding into her instead and oh that felt good. She arched in their arms, and smiled up at Naruto, and he grinned back, just a little mischievous. When he bent down to kiss her breasts, open-mouthed, hot and wet, she arched harder. "Ohh..." Someone's fingers were rubbing her firmly, and Sasuke was thrusting deep into her, and it all made her body feel like it should be glowing, hotter and hotter.

She gasped when the heat in her flashed like fire and rushed through her veins, and Sasuke groaned abruptly against her shoulder. It felt so good, the solidness of him inside her, and she jerked her hips hard to get more of that.

Suddenly she was past the crest, and all the sensation was too much. She grabbed for, yes, it was Naruto's wrist to still his fingers and buried her head against his shoulder, panting as Sasuke shuddered against her back. "Oh. Oh wow." Finally, they were all still again, pressed up against each other.

"That was... really good," Naruto murmured against her hair. "I mean, um. Thanks."

Sakura giggled. "Thank you too. Both of you." This was new. It wasn't just the past; right here and now, her team cared for her and wanted her. And she loved them back. It settled into her mind, solid and soothing.

Now, now she could think about going home.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Ten

In which Gaara is taken by Akatsuki and Kakashi's and Gai's teams are sent to aid Hidden Sand to get him back. Drama, Action, Fluff, I-4

Sasuke dangled his legs over the weathered edge of the Nara house's engawa and listened to the soft tick of stones as Sakura and Shikamaru played a game of go an arm's length away. It was the first time both teams had been home at once for a few months, and everyone was enjoying a bit of a break.

"Hey, that almost singed my hair you jerk!"

The less quiet sounds of Naruto and Ino sparring broke through the brown and gold shadows among the trees of the back garden. Everyone had their own definition of "taking a break".

"It just doesn't make sense, you know," Sakura said, out of the blue, frowning down at the board. "There's been another attack on a host. This makes both of Rock's hosts taken!"

"Sakura," Ino said warningly, touching down on the grass. "That's information from the files; even if it isn't really confidential, you shouldn't be sharing it outside Intelligence."

Sakura flapped an impatient hand. "We're the yearmates of our village's host. If it comes down to guarding Naruto from Akatsuki, we'll most likely be the inner line of defense. If anyone needs to know this, we do." She frowned. "Besides... I don't think it's a coincidence that our year and the one before have so many shinobi who are this strong this young."

Shikamaru looked up from contemplating his next move, eyes sharp. "What do you mean?"

Sakura chewed her lip. "Look, I know this sounds like superstition, but... we're the ones who spent the longest time closest to Naruto. I don't have very solid evidence yet, but I think that had an effect."

"So I'm, like, an amplifier?" Naruto asked, flickering down from the trees to the grass after Ino. "Cool."

"You're an annoyance," Sasuke corrected without sitting up. "I suppose that does tend to goad a person forward, yes."

"Jerk." Naruto pounced on him and they wrestled for a moment before Sasuke got a foot behind Naruto's knee and flipped them over, pinning him down on the satin smooth engawa with a little smirk of triumph; Naruto was a lot better at hand-to-hand these days, and pinning him was getting to be an accomplishment. Sakura was probably rolling her eyes over them, but she didn't bother to move as they rolled around behind her.

"No, you have a point just from the numbers," Shikamaru said, mouth quirking as he watched them. "I mean, normally it takes five to ten years to pass to chuunin, and look at us. One to three years, for our entire cohort." He laid a stone down and Sakura made an annoyed sound.

"All right, if we're breaking security, let's do it right." Ino came to sit on the stone step beside Chouji and steal one of his chips, which he actually let her do. Sasuke guessed their team really was close with each other. "So, the Akatsuki attacks are continuing. Rock is down both their hosts, and Cloud is down to one. And we've had one probe years ago." She poked Sakura in the knee. "I've been out on missions, not snooping in the secure files. Who else has gotten hit?"

"I think Mist still has both of their hosts," Sakura murmured in a distant tone, eyes fixed on the board though Sasuke wouldn't give any odds she was actually seeing it. "I don't know for sure about the Waterfall, though."

"Given the timing involved in the attacks, I suspect they've already got that one," Shikamaru murmured, eyes dark and thoughtful. "The Mist might have lost one by now, too."

Sasuke propped himself up over Naruto on an elbow, frowning. "You think this really is a systematic thing. Kidnapping the hosts." The hand that had been holding Naruto's elbow away from his ribs fell to his chest and spread there firmly. No one was taking Naruto away. Especially not Itachi. Not again, Sasuke wouldn't let him.

Chouji looked up at Shikamaru, popping another chip into his mouth. "So, what do we do?"

"We keep ours safe," Sakura said, setting down a white stone more firmly than necessary.

"That too," Shikamaru agreed. "If we can, it would be ideal to share information with the other villages who have hosts, see if we can find a pattern in the attacks."

Sakura and Ino looked at each other. "Not Morino-san," Ino said. "He hates the idea of sharing information with other villages. And Hoshiashige-san doesn't listen to me as well as Miuhara listens to you."

"Mm. Actually, Kakashi-sensei might be our best bet," Sakura suggested. "He's not formally part of the Intelligence division, but he was, and everyone still knows him. And he has the Hokage's ear."

"We'll start there, then," Shikamaru said, laying down another stone. "And," he smiled, tight, "we'll keep ours safe."

Naruto was looking around at them all, a little flushed and wide-eyed. "Idiot," Sasuke told him, more gently than usual, and sat up to look over Sakura's shoulder at the game. He left his hand on Naruto's chest, though.

Kakashi stood in front of the Hokage's desk, just as bland as could be, waiting attentively for any questions she might have about his report.

"Hm." She was smiling, small and tight, as she set down the folder and turned her chair to face her windows, looking out through the hazy blue morning over the roofs of the village. "You know, Kakashi," she murmured in a whimsical tone, "the more I see of Naruto's generation the more I think... the Elders don't know what the hell they're going to face in just a few more years."

"I couldn't agree more." And it was a thought that kept Kakashi warm at nights, he had to admit, especially as applied to Danzou. "But they don't have the rank to support you against the Elders right now."

"Despite having reached exactly the right conclusion." She sighed and tipped her chair back. "We're going to have to do this more slowly than any of us would like. Get back to them, Kakashi. Let them know they're right; encourage them to talk this up to their own superiors. The more people in favor of a little international cooperation, the more freedom I'll have to act." She smiled slowly. "Ask them to try to take jobs close to home for a while. If any international missions or delegations open up, I think it will be some of them that I want to send. And the old goats can complain after the fact." She gave cocked a brow at him. "Brush up on your diplomacy, too. I expect it will be you I send them with."

Kakashi winced at the thought and gave her his very best hangdog look, to no avail. She just snorted. "Get used to it, Kakashi. It's getting to be about time you started picking up more diplomatic and administrative jobs. Just be glad I'm not making Shikaku name you his official successor as Jounin Commander. Yet."

Kakashi held up his hands in hasty surrender. "Missions it is! Missions are fine!"

She settled back in her chair, satisfied. "Good." Her smugness still had an alarming tinge of speculation, though, and she murmured, "Actually, you know, it might just be you I tap for—"

"I'll just go have my dress clothes cleaned and pressed, then, shall I?" Kakashi cut in, sidling toward the door before she could come up with any more horrifyingly responsible jobs to threaten him with.

Tsunade laughed. "You do that." Her amusement drained away, though, as he got a hand on the knob, and she added quietly. "Be ready, Kakashi. If I do have to take you off field work for a foreign mission, it will probably be urgent."

Sasuke bounded through the tall trees and deep gorges of the eastern Fire Country and wished he had enough breath to swear properly. But even moving at their top speed, Naruto was outdistancing the rest of them.

"Naruto!" Kakashi called the next breath, "Stay in closer."

There was no sign at all that Naruto had heard him—and an edge of visible red was flickering around him. Sasuke exchanged a tense look with Sakura. When Tsunade had told them and Gai's team that the Kazekage had been kidnapped and they were going to assist, a flash of feral rage had slitted Naruto's eyes, but he'd seemed to come back after just a second.

Maybe he just didn't want to listen, now, but this wasn't a good sign.

Sakura's mouth tightened and she nodded sharply toward Naruto. Sasuke nodded back and gathered himself. One breath, a moment of solid footing, and he flickered forward on a burst of chakra-speed to land in front of Naruto. Right in front. Despite Sasuke's preparation for it Naruto was still moving too fast, and they went down hard against the branch under them. Only Sakura's fast grab at Naruto's shoulders as she came up behind them kept them both from falling.

"Cut that out!" Sasuke barked at him, a bit winded. "You can't get too far out front of us!"

"Gaara," Naruto started, and though his eyes weren't slitted they weren't as focused as Sasuke liked.

"You want to give them two for the price of one?" Kakashi asked mildly, landing beside them.

"But I have to..."

Sasuke gave up on logic, as he so often had to around Naruto, and just shook him. "Shut up and listen to me," he said, low and deadly. "I am not letting you run yourself right into an ambush. Understand? Not by those bastards and not because you were too unbelievably bullheaded to Stay. With. Your team!" Three more hard shakes punctuated that, and Naruto finally blinked at Sasuke like he knew who was in front of him.

"Oh," he finally said, and Sasuke restrained himself with difficulty from banging his head on Naruto's shoulder a few times. It was as good as a brick wall. Or maybe that should be Naruto's head.

"That's the true spirit of youthful teamwork!" Gai boomed above them, and Sasuke groaned.

"Now see what you've done?" he muttered. He took Sakura's hand up and hauled Naruto with him. "Get a hold of yourself, or we'll do it for you."

Naruto smiled at that, like he knew perfectly well it was a promise and not a threat. "Yeah, okay." As they started out again, in better order this time, he added, "Thanks."

Sasuke just snorted, not really pleased to have had to show the inner working of their team to other people like that, even people from their own village. Still, better to work it out now than after they were in Sand, he supposed.

A few more strides and Neji fell in beside him. "The demon chakra has subsided again," he said quietly. "That was well done. Will you and Sakura be able to pull him out of it when we're in battle, though?"

"We will do," Sasuke said precisely, "whatever it takes."

Neji nodded. "Let us know if we can help." At Sasuke's raised brow, he smiled faintly, still looking straight ahead through the tossing green of their tree path. "Naruto carries this burden for all of us. It's only fitting that we all assist as we can." After another leap, he added, "Hinata-sama would wish it."

Sasuke nodded acceptance of that, silently. Whatever it took.

They were waved through casually at the edge of River Country and, half a weary day later, with frantic haste at the borders of the Wind Country. They ran on until Kakashi decreed a stop, well after dark. Naruto, predictably, protested, and Lee was right behind him.

"We won't be any help if we're exhausted when we get there," Sakura told them, pushing Naruto firmly down onto the sand of the hollow Kakashi had chosen to camp in and putting a water bottle in his hand. Tenten gave her a grateful look as Lee wilted at Sakura's scolding, and chivvied her partner out of his pack.

They weren't going to be much help if Naruto didn't recover his scattered brains, either, Sasuke reflected. He was their medic, after all, and a battle with Akatsuki promised injuries, to say nothing of what they might find at Sand in the wake of a raid. After contemplating this fact for a few bites of his pressed fruit bar, he sighed and scooted over to sit back to back with Naruto, leaning against him. "Hey."

Naruto made the kind of sound a person makes when their mouth is way too full and Sasuke rolled his eyes. "So, if Akatsuki has Gaara, what are we going to do?"

"Get him back," Naruto growled fiercely.

"I was hoping for a little more detail than that," Sasuke said dryly. "It isn't fair to make Sakura do all the work. For example, if Gaara is hurt, you might need to stay with him while we chase Akatsuki, you know."

Naruto's back relaxed against his a little, at the reminder that he could probably do something about any injuries the Kazekage might have picked up. "So. I guess I shouldn't just run in and beat up anyone with red clouds on their coat, is what you're saying?"

"Well," Sasuke allowed, "at least not until we've got Gaara safe and know they aren't going to do anything to you."

Naruto was quiet for a moment. "So. You think Itachi will be with them?"

It was Sasuke's turn to tense, and Naruto leaned back against him more firmly. "He wasn't reported," Sasuke said tightly, "but he's the one I'm worried about taking you." He breathed through the twist of memory and sickness and managed a snort. "Normal top rank criminals, I'm not as concerned over."

"Heheh." He could hear the smug grin in Naruto's chortle and stifled a smile of his own. No need to encourage him. "Hey, don't worry." Naruto nudged him with an elbow. "I won't let him get me. And this time you'll kick his ass."

"This time," Kakashi said out of the dusk, voice hard, "you'll run faster unless you have a lot more backup."

That was voice of Sasuke's commander, more than his teacher—the same voice Kakashi had used that first time, after the bad fight with Naruto. That was the voice that understood what was at stake, and had never pretended Sasuke would be content with anything less than Itachi's blood in the end. And that was why, as Naruto was inhaling to protest, Sasuke said quietly, "Yes, Kakashi-sensei."

Naruto twisted around to stare over his shoulder at Sasuke, eyes a little wide. "Are you okay?" He put a worried hand on Sasuke's forehead, which Sasuke batted aside with an exasperated glare.

"He's being at least temporarily sensible," Kakashi-sensei said dryly. "Now if only I can get you to do the same at some point I will have reached the pinnacle of my teaching career." Raising his voice a little he added, "Everyone get some sleep. I have first watch."

Ignoring Gai-sensei's immediate insistence that they play jan-ken-pon for it, Sasuke tugged the blanket out of his pack and lay down. Now that they weren't moving, the night was turning very cold; he remembered that from the chuunin exam.

He remembered his solution for it, too, and his mouth quirked, invisibly in the dark, as he ran his hands through the seals for Inner Fire. Almost immediately, as he'd half expected, he had a teammate snuggled up on either side. "I showed you how to do this yourself," he whispered, nudging Sakura, making her squeak and swat at his hand. "And you don't need it," he added to Naruto.

"You do it better," she whispered back.

"Yeah, and you're warmer," Naruto added from the other side. Sasuke rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine, whatever. Just don't toss around like you usually do." That was mostly to Naruto's address, though both he and Naruto had wound up with black eyes when Sakura had one of her nightmares.

Firmly ignoring Tenten's giggling, drifting across the hollow, he closed his eyes and pursued sleep.

It didn't take long to get to Hidden Sand the next day, and it was Temari who met them at the wall. Her face was tight and there were dark smudges under her eyes. "There were at least two from Akatsuki," she said as she led them through stunned silent streets to the hospital. "We think there may have been more than we saw, though. They headed over the north wall when they left, we know that, but none of the guards saw a thing. One or two agents among us I could believe, but a dozen?"

"Genjutsu, do you think?" Neji asked quietly.

"An incredibly strong one, if so." Temari bit her lip as they hurried up stairs and through the curving hospital halls. "I can't think what else it might have been, though."

"Itachi," Sasuke said, low, rage and fear surging out of his control for a breath to wind his nerves another twist tighter.

"We know that Uchiha Itachi is part of Akatsuki," Kakashi supplied at Temari's questioning look. "And he's achieved levels of genjutsu control I'd never heard of before."

"At least three then. Explosives, illusions, and poison." Temari's jaw set hard. "Kankurou encountered the poisoner." She pushed open the door of a private room, bright from the skylights and painted a soft, comforting apricot like the bands Sasuke had seen in some of the rock formations on the way here. It didn't make it any less a hospital room.

Sasuke had never liked hospitals. The first time he'd found himself in one was after his clan was killed, and later visits hadn't done much to break a bad first impression. The harsh, hoarse gasps of the man on the hospital bed yanked at his nerves; there was pain here, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

He wasn't at all surprised when Naruto pushed forward. "Poison?"

The very old woman by the bed said without turning, "More than one. Sasori's poisons are tricky, too. We're still trying to isolate them, and none of the general anti—" she looked over her shoulder and broke off, eyes widening. "White Fang!"

Sasuke was caught just as flat-footed as everyone else when she dove for Kakashi with a shriek of rage, but he slapped Naruto's shoulder as Naruto started to wheel back; whatever was going on, he and Sakura were here. Naruto should concentrate on what only he could do.

By the time they'd both spun back to their right jobs, Naruto to the bed and Sasuke to their commander, it was already over. Sakura was spinning away from the kick that checked the old woman in midair, and an equally old man had come forward to stop the woman. Gai's team spilled into the room after Kakashi, and once it became clear that it was Kakashi's father the old woman had a grudge against everyone seemed to relax again.

"Okay," Naruto said briskly, from the bed, having ignored the whole thing, "His liver already knows what this shit is, I'll start there and burn it out."

"We already tried a direct flush," one of the other medics started, and Naruto grinned.

"Yeah, but you aren't me."

Sasuke's mouth twitched. He'd always kind of figured that Naruto's bedside manner forced people to get better just so they could avoid drowning in the overflowing self-confidence.

The old woman's brows lifted as Naruto set his hands on Kankurou's stomach and his chakra spilled into the visible range. "Who is this?"

"Uzumaki Naruto," Kakashi provided. "The Hokage's apprentice in healing, of late."

The woman paused. "She sent her own apprentice?" she murmured, almost to herself.

"Tsunade-sama takes our treaty obligations seriously," Kakashi answered, sober.

Sasuke listened with half an ear, keeping an eye on Naruto, who was starting to sweat. "Crap," Naruto finally muttered, glaring at thin air. "I've got it out of his blood, but it's... damn it..."

"Is it in his bones already?" the old woman asked sharply, coming to hover beside him.

"No, not that. It's... it's a reservoir, yeah, but not the bones, it's..." Naruto narrowed his eyes, "I think it's poisoned his chakra."

The woman hissed through her teeth. "Sasori! He did create that one after all." She bowed her head, hands locked tight. "Then there's nothing we can do."

Naruto growled. "There is! I just can't burn or break it like the stuff in his blood! If I could just find a way out for it..." Blue eyes widened and his head jerked up. "Neji!"

Neji stepped forward, frowning. "What?"

Naruto grinned at him, and it was the grin he got in the middle of a fight when he'd figured out how to win. Sasuke smirked and settled back against the wall as the tightness in his gut eased.

"Open his tenketsu!" Naruto told Neji. "All of them, all the way! You can do that, right?"

Neji's eyes widened. "But...!" He took a breath. "Naruto, if I do that, his chakra will all drain away. He'll die."

"Not while I'm adding more. Chakra transfers were the first thing I learned to do. And I'll tell you when to close them again." Only Naruto, Sasuke reflected, could make a suggestion this crazy sound perfectly reasonable. Neji had the slightly disbelieving expression of any normal person hearing it; fortunately, it wasn't the first time, for him and Naruto.

"He needs to be standing upright so I can reach all sixty-four key points," he said slowly. "Naruto, you'd better be right about this."

"I am." Naruto's eyes were fixed back on his patient, and his confidence this time was quiet and sure.

"All right."

The other medics got Kankurou upright and Neji set his feet, preparing, and engaged his Byakugan. One breath. Another. And then there was a whirl of strikes, blindingly fast, absolutely precise, and Neji was in front of Kankurou again, only to leap back. "Naruto!"

"Got it!" Naruto blazed up with the force of chakra he was concentrating, hands pressed to Kankurou's chest. Another breath, and Neji hissed, still holding the Byakugan.

"It's moving..."

Sasuke thought everyone in the room might be holding their breaths, hanging on Neji's terse reports of Kankurou's chakra levels as Naruto stood like stone in front of him, scowling in concentration.

Sasuke was keeping an eye on Naruto's chakra levels, frowning at the rapid drain. But Naruto wasn't turning muddy or jagged, so he kept his mouth shut. And kept watching. He'd been party to more than one of Tsunade's lectures to Naruto about having a spotter when he tried a new technique, and he'd seen Naruto get so concentrated on his work Shizune had to knock him out to stop him.

"Almost," Naruto panted. "Al... most... got it! Neji, close them down!"

Neji struck again, fast and sure, and Naruto slumped against the next bed. "Okay," he rasped, as Sasuke released the Sharingan, with a covert sigh of relief. "See if that got it."

The wide-eyed medics lifted Kankurou back into bed and the old woman passed her hands over him. "He's stable," she said, rough and shocked. "His pulse, his muscles, his chakra... all clean." She turned and stared at Naruto. "How could you possibly feed enough chakra to him to replace his and still be standing?!"

Naruto grinned, pushing himself upright. "Well, me and Gaara have some things in common."

The old woman actually sputtered. "Are you telling me the slug girl taught Leaf's Sacrifice to heal?"

"Naruto is a very strong healer," Kakashi observed blandly before Sasuke and Sakura could do more than stiffen at what the woman had called Naruto. "The village is very glad to have him."

The old woman's eyes darkened. "I see," she said, very low. "That... was wise of the girl." More briskly she added, "And an ingenious solution, boy. You're a credit to your teacher."

"Chiyo-baasama?" The whisper from the bed drifted through the momentary silence, and everyone spun to see Kankurou pushing himself slowly up. "What...?"

"Kankurou!" Temari just about tackled him back to the bed with a hug. And then she grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. "You idiot! You went without backup! Never, ever, do that again!"

Sasuke caught Sakura's eye and had to stifle a snort of laughter; that sounded extremely familiar.

"They have Gaara!" Kankurou flailed a little trying to sit back up again. "We have to go after them!"

"There are tracking teams already on the two trails we found, and support teams following each of them," Temari told him. "As soon as they get a bird back to us, a full strength party is going in pursuit." She smiled a little. "The Leaf sent us help, too."

"Heh." Naruto straightened all the way. "Yeah, don't worry about it. We'll bring Gaara back!"

"Uzumaki." Kankurou looked around, and frowned. "Wait, how did I... did you...?"

The old woman, Chiyo, patted his arm. "Indeed. Naruto-kun was the one who cleared the poison from you." She held out a hand and ordered. "Grip!"

Obediently, Kankurou gripped her hand tight, and she nodded judiciously. "Almost fully recovered." She cocked her head at Naruto. "I'm very impressed. It was a completely brute force approach, but you actually undid most of the muscular and arterial damage. It seems the slug girl became a good teacher, as well as a good medic." She brushed her sleeves straight and added, quite casually, "When the team leaves to go after Gaara, I will accompany it."

"I'm coming too!" Kankurou swung his legs off the bed and pushed himself up with determination and only a little shakiness.

"Kankurou, you should stay put and recover," Temari exclaimed. "I'll go."

Kankurou smiled, crooked. "You know the council won't listen to me the way they will to you, Nee-san."

Temari made a frustrated sound, and Sasuke thought he knew what hidden fear was underneath her anger. Fear of the hell he'd lived in himself, of losing everything. "We'll bring them back," he said, quietly. "Both of them." It could still be done for Sand, at least. That thought was actually a little comforting.

"We'll absolutely bring everyone back," Naruto seconded, with downright alarming intensity.

Temari looked at them for a long moment. Finally, very softly, she asked, "Why?"

Naruto looked away, shrugging one shoulder. "Like I said, Gaara and I... we have some stuff in common." He looked up at Sasuke and Sakura, and then beyond them at Gai's team. "But I found people who accepted me. And he didn't. I know how it hurts, and I'm not going to let it keep going on." He looked back at her, again with that absolute determination of his. "Now that he has people, I'm not going to let him lose them!"

Sasuke nodded silently. It was true enough for him, too, though it was Temari he was thinking of and the expression that would be on her face if she had to stand and watch her family taken away from her. That was more than he was going to say to another nation's shinobi, though, no matter how much sympathy he had.

Temari had a hand pressed to her mouth. She blinked hard and swallowed, and whispered, "Thank you."

Naruto ran a hand through his hair, sheepishly. "Hey, don't worry. It'll all be okay."

Temari drew a slow breath and pulled herself together. "Come with me, then. I'll find rooms for you while we're waiting for the tracking parties to report."

Word came in the small hours of the morning, which Sasuke thought was a good thing. Much longer and Naruto would have produced Shadow Clones and gone chasing after both trails at once himself.

It would have been easier if the trail back toward River Country had been the true one, and it certainly ended in a convincingly warded cave, but there was no scent or trace of Gaara. Kankurou and Chiyo both agreed that trail had been laid by a puppet. The trail north into Sky Country, on the other hand, kept both Sasori's scent and Gaara's. A Sand patrol already near the border was ordered to close up and support the trackers, and Chiyo led Kankurou and the two Leaf teams out of the village herself.

"We'll just have to hope no one from Rain stumbles over this," Chiyo said grimly, as they ran north over slowly lightening sand and rock. "Because we don't have time to beat sense into that idiot Hanzou's head and then wait for the village to contact all their border patrols and convince them to stand aside."

"Akatsuki have gone to ground, haven't they? They won't be moving again without us catching them; we can take a little while to explain to the border patrols if we have to," Gai said, and gave her one of his embarrassingly optimistic thumbs up signs. "We'll have the Kazekage back in no time!"

Chiyo gave him a quelling look that Sasuke entirely approved of. "Depending on how many of them are gathered at this hidey hole of theirs, it's possible they're going to attempt an extraction."

"Extraction?" Both Gai and Kakashi looked puzzled.

Chiyo was silent for a few strides. "I don't know how Leaf does it, but Sand always extracted the tailed beast from the Sacrifices when they became too worn down to control it any more. It allowed us to store Shukaku in a stable form between embodiments. Akatsuki may have their own Sacrifice to transfer the One-tail into."

Sakura hissed between her teeth and Sasuke glanced over to see her eyes widening, sharp with calculation.

"But..." Neji was frowning. "Forgive me, Chiyo-san, but a beast's chakra mixes very deeply with the host's. Wouldn't that scar the host very badly?"

"It kills them," Chiyo said bluntly, dark eyes fixed straight ahead.

That choked off everyone for a moment, and Kankurou lost his next stride. "Gaara," he whispered.

"It takes time," Chiyo said. "Time and a great deal of chakra. If there aren't too many of them gathered, we'll still be in time." She shot a sidelong glance at Naruto. "I'm glad you're with us, Naruto-kun."

Naruto was starting to look a little feral again, and Sasuke and Sakura immediately closed in at his shoulders. Chiyo's brows twitched up, but she turned back to keeping their pace without comment.

"This is it," Sakura was muttering. "This is what they're doing! Not keeping control of the hosts... gaining control of the beasts!"

"Sakura," Sasuke asked, very quietly, "how many have been confirmed taken?"

"Five," she said, tightly. "More than half."

Sasuke felt something very cold sink down into his stomach. "I think this mission just became important to more than Sand and Leaf alone," he said, a little husky.

"I think you're right. Kakashi-sensei," Sakura called.

"We're all that can get there in time, this mission," Kakashi answered, and Sasuke wasn't surprised he was already on the same page. "But the villages have to know, one way or the other. Sasuke, can you summon on the run? Yours will be fastest."

Despite the sudden grimness of the situation, Sasuke's mouth quirked as he remembered the training Jiraiya had harried him through in this very country. "It'll be nostalgic," he murmured, and pulled a summoning scroll out of his pouch while Naruto took point and Sakura dropped behind to watch his back. A nick of his thumb, and blood to carry the summons, and Youchi swooped down over his head, wings shadowing them against the high, steel blue of the morning sky.

"On vacation again?" the hawk asked sarcastically.

Sasuke ignored the attitude. He was used to it; it was even comforting in a way, to have something around with a sufficiently caustic outlook on life that he didn't feel the need to contribute any extra cynicism. "Get word to the Hokage," he directed. "Akatsuki may be extracting the tailed beasts from their hosts, either to hold or to seal into their own candidates. Everyone needs to know this, not just us."

"Okay, but if Leaf's message keeper tries to mew me up again, I'm going to take his scalp off for real this time." Before Sasuke could answer, Youchi was winging away to the east, straight and fast.

"Have I mentioned that your summons is a jerk?" Naruto asked.

"Have I mentioned that yours is an idiot?" Sasuke shot back. He still hadn't forgotten the time Gamakichi glued all of his underwear to the bottom of his pack, not even on Naruto's orders.

"I bet your summons is nice and smart, Sakura-san," Lee chipped in, ever hopeful.

"I haven't contracted with one," Sakura said rather dryly from behind him, "but if I had I can guarantee you it would be more sensible than both of theirs put together."

Sasuke and Naruto shrugged at each other. That one was pretty hard to argue with.

A little more than two days took them over the border of Sky Country to meet with one of the trackers at the edge of a swamp.

"Kurota," Kankurou greeted the man, "report."

"There's an old building, well into the swamp, perhaps an abandoned temple." The man gestured almost due north. "The way to it is a maze, half reality and half illusion, seeded with some very subtle chakra triggered traps. We only broke all the way through this morning, and we don't have anyone with us who can open the door into the place."

"Show us," Chiyo rapped out. Kurota paused to bow deeply to her, which, Sasuke was distantly amused to note, made her hand twitch as if to cuff him. Sand did seem to have a feisty bunch of Elders.

The swamp path was a maze all right, and Sasuke was impressed the Sand teams had made it through with, apparently, no deaths. Even he and Sakura together would have been hard pressed to pick apart the tangle of subtle illusion that led the foot toward quicksand here, a sinkhole there, cloaked the already faint ripples of water predators in another spot. The obvious routes through clumps of trees were seeded with strangling traps. It took hours to work their way through, even with a guide, and he watched both Naruto and Kankurou getting tenser with every turn they had to take away from the path straight north.

It distracted him from his own tension, which cranked higher every time he couldn't keep from thinking about who might well have set these illusions.

Fortunately, Kankurou had Chiyo next to him to tweak his ear admonishingly whenever he tried to hurry ahead. As for Naruto... well Sasuke and Sakura both stayed close, with a hand on his arm or shoulder when they could. Naruto's eyes kept flickering toward the feralness of the fox.

When they finally broke out of the maze, they found the rest of the Sand teams gathered at the foot of a gray stone building in the square, tiered style of Sky Country, though it had none of the windows those tiers of roofs usually sheltered.

The tall, narrow doorway was blocked with stone, too.

Turning away from it was the dark-haired woman Sakura had met during the chuunin exams.

"Kankurou-san!" She stopped for a startled moment. "Chiyo-baasama."

"Yes, yes, spit it out, what's the problem?" Chiyo demanded testily, and Fuunotora regathered herself.

"The whole temple has a reflective seal woven through the stone. Any chakra technique at all is reflected back on the user. We need to break through with pure taijutsu, and none of my people are that strong; Shinji reports the walls and that door are over a meter thick. Perhaps one of your puppets? Or can one of our allies do such a thing?" She cocked a brow at Sakura.

Chiyo grunted unpromisingly, and Sakura glanced at their second team. "Gai-san? Lee?"

"Lee," Gai said firmly, laying a hand on Lee's shoulder. "Knowing the difficulty, even I might slip and bring my chakra to bear."

Lee stood very straight. "Right!"

"Any intelligence about the door itself?" Kakashi asked Fuunotora.

"Shinji!" Fuunotora called, and the Sand nin kneeling with his hands pressed to the stone in the door looked over his shoulder. For a second, Sasuke thought the man's eyes were as black as his, but then he blinked and his pupils shrank abruptly to show brown around them.

"This is definitely the weakest structural point," he tapped on the stone at a little over head height. "Aim here."

An eye technique. Which, of course, made Sasuke think of Itachi, and he shook himself, set that aside for later when they knew one way or the other. Instead, he breathed, cleared his mind of one thing after another, and slid into the place where the Sharingan turned the world clear and precise, watching like one of his hawks for the movement that signaled prey.

Kankurou was ordering the Sand teams to make a charge once the door was open, or clear more traps, whichever was needed. Kakashi waved the Leaf-nin to fall in behind them. Lee stood in front of the door, breathing slow and deep. Neji had his Byakugan active and was watching the temple tight-mouthed.

"Hurry," he said quietly. "It isn't just the reflection jutsu distorting things; there's something strange going on in there."

Lee nodded and sprang high into the air, spinning as he came down, and Sasuke could see the fine precision in how gravity and momentum came together with Lee's own strength in a single heel strike at the precise point Shinji had indicated.

Cracks starred the rock on impact, and one of the Sand nin gasped.

Lee landed in a crouch and spun up in a fluid wheel to punch the impact point with a kiai that was nearly a scream.

The rock shattered.

So, Sasuke noted, had two of Lee's long hand bones. His ankle was severely strained. Neji was swearing viciously under his breath even as he looked past his teammate into the building. "No traps," he shouted, "go!" The whole lot of them charged forward over the rubble.

The Sharingan highlighted for Sasuke every detail of what was inside. A single, open room. A huge, fading shape, shoulders and hands and a demon face. Five of nine figures fading with it. A body in unfamiliar dark robes but with red hair he recognized falling through the air. As it hit the ground, Kankurou's and Naruto's voices nearly as one, frightened and furious.

"GAARA!"

A/N: Another thing I never found believable was that one of the major villages wouldn't have any trackers of their own to have sent after their freaking Kage, and would not have sent any of their own teams along with the Leaf team to rescue him.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Eleven

Sasuke faces his brother again. Fortunately, Sakura and Naruto are there for him, and he finds the space in his head to do what he has to do. Involves character death. Drama, Action, Angst, I-5

Naruto and Kankurou's voices still rang off the walls when Gaara hit the floor with a dull, boneless thump.

"Well," murmured the blond Akatsuki, looking toward the broken temple door, "that was faster than we expected, hm?" He smiled very unpleasantly. "Just not fast enough." As two of the four dark robes remaining faded back into the shadows, he strolled toward them, stepping over Gaara's body and carelessly kicking it in passing.

Sasuke wasn't surprised when Naruto snarled with absolute rage and charged the man, red flickering around him.

"Naruto," Sakura shouted, sharp, "it's you he wants, don't be an idiot!"

Sasuke's vision tracked the man's hand as it dove into his pouch and a pale, grayish white bird bloomed up from it, growing large enough for the man to spring onto and ride. Not an elemental transformation but what might well be unlimited shaping of his medium, trained observation noted coolly; that was dangerous.

Sasuke snapped his hands together, fast and sure with the knife-edge perception of the Sharingan, and blew fire at the bird while the Sand team showered kunai, needles, and a loop of razor wire on the other remaining Akatsuki. At the edge of his field of vision, he saw that attack blocked with what looked like a jointed tail. The bird he was aiming for swooped up over his flame, and he took in the flicker of alarm over the blond one's face. "That stuff burns badly," he reported, flat and fast. "This is the explosives expert."

"This one is Sasori," Chiyo grated. "Leave him to us."

Gai flickered through the temple's shadows, coming up to flank the one on the bird. "The other two are gone. Let's take this one down with the passion of youth!"

The blond just laughed. "But that wouldn't be what I want." He swooped down again, fast and hard, and the bird-thing scooped up Gaara's body.

"Gaara!" Naruto leapt for him, fingers clawed. Kankurou whipped around and was nearly cut down by Sasori's tail before Fuunotora tackled him to the ground.

"You want a dead body that much, hm?" the blond taunted, and flitted right out the door. Naruto bounded after him, chakra boiling off him, and for the first time he could remember Sasuke heard Kakashi swear. Sasuke couldn't blame him at all and held on to the still, sharp judgment of the Sharingan by his bare fingertips while fear for his idiot teammate wrenched at his control.

At least Itachi didn't seem to be here.

"Chiyo-san, we'll handle this," Kakashi snapped.

"And we'll handle this one," Chiyo said grimly. "Go!"

As they bolted out the door again after Naruto, Kakashi called, "Remember the illusions in the swamp! And remember that the other two might not have actually left!"

Fear and fury jerked at Sasuke's control again, at the reminder. He forced them down, teeth gritted.

Naruto was leaping through the trees already, chakra shredding the traps in his way as he followed the bird and they followed him. The next grove wasn't lit from the right angle, though, and Sasuke barked, "Illusion!"

He exhaled with relief when Naruto landed short of it; Naruto was listening after all.

"Pit trap," Neji reported, staring deep into it. "Jump ten meters."

"Wait." Sasuke perched on his branch and looked past the illusionary clump of trees. "There's something past it..." Just a flicker of light in the wrong place, but... and then he hissed through his teeth. Naruto had already jumped. Idiot!

"Tenten," Gai called, "saturate the other side!"

"On it!" Tenten leaped straight up, above them all, and unfurled a long scroll. Weapons rained down on the place where Naruto would land in just another second.

Nothing else happened. Had he been wrong? Naruto had landed and leaped again, and Sasuke prepared to follow, worry over his teammate's loss of control clawing at him even as he kept his eyes focused, searching the other side for that hint of something askew. He was in midair when one particular patch of reeds caught his attention. What was it? What was wrong, what was he seeing? He looked closer.

"Sasuke!" Sakura hit him from the side, taking them both down in a tangle of limbs and very hard ground for someplace so wet. "What?" he gasped, winded, trying to spot that place he'd found again.

"Don't look," she commanded, catching his face in her hands and holding his eyes, hers wide and alarmed. "Look at me, not at that! It's not real, whatever you see is an illusion, that's Itachi standing there!"

For a moment the shock was so great he couldn't make sense of her words. And then he understood and squeezed his eyes shut, slamming his hands together in the release. "Kai!" he barked, as much at himself as at the illusion, turning his focus inward.

There. He had been influenced, yes. He flared his chakra hard and sharp, throwing off the pressure, and opened his eyes again. The Leaf teams had landed around him, and Itachi was standing where he'd seen a suspicious patch of reeds—suspicion that had made him focus on them. "Very clever," he grated, glaring at his brother's chest.

"Gai," Kakashi said softly, beside him, "can you deal with this one again?"

"Yes," Gai answered, serious for once. His eyes were focused on Itachi's feet. A detached part of Sasuke's mind was impressed. That was a difficult approach. The clan had always trained to watch the chest, which telegraphed more clearly, even if it was a little more dangerous, a little easier to catch the opponent's eyes that way. And Gai wasn't clan; he must have figured it out on his own.

"I'll go after Naruto, then. Be careful!" Kakashi vanished down the path of crushed grasses and shredded traps, after Naruto. Good. That was good, that someone would be there to look after Naruto.

Sakura gripped his shoulder hard. "Are you all right?" she asked, low. Sasuke took a slow breath and yanked his thoughts back into order. Naruto was going after Gaara's body, and Kakashi would take care of him. The Sand teams probably had Sasori in hand. He was here, with Sakura and Gai's team, and Itachi was in front of them. He had backup, today, to go with opportunity, and his brother was standing in front of him. Now. The time to take Itachi down was now. That was all he needed to think about.

"I'm all right," he said, settling his shoulders under her hand and focusing again.

Neji's head snapped around. "Someone's coming! Someone with a huge amount of chakra!"

"Can Akatsuki have one of their own hosts with them already?" Sakura suggested tightly.

"Not that, but... close. Closer to a host's chakra than I've ever seen." Neji turned smoothly, falling into one of his clan's defensive stances.

"Looks like you got more than just your brother," a rough voice said from the shadows of the red reeds, and another black cloak materialized out of them. "Want me to take the extra off your hands, Itachi-san?" The newcomer bared sharklike teeth that reminded Sasuke with a sharp twinge of their very first mission as a team, and the Swordsman they'd faced.

"Swordsman of the Mist," Sakura confirmed softly. "With that shape sword... Hoshigake Kisame. The strongest of his generation."

"That would be very kind of you," Itachi murmured, and Sasuke couldn't help flinching at the sound of his voice.

"Gai-sensei," Neji said, quiet and grim, "I don't think any of us but you will be able to deal with Hoshigake. And maybe not even you alone. Take Tenten and Lee. I will stand with Uchiha Sasuke until you return, as a jounin of the Leaf and as a Hyuuga."

It was a long moment before Gai rumbled, "Very well."

"We'll concentrate on wearing Itachi down, then," Sakura whispered, not moving her lips, and Sasuke felt himself relax just a little. Sakura was their strategist, the one who thought ahead; he had her help this time. And he was the striking hand of their team, after all. All he had to do was listen to her, and focus, and he would have his chance for revenge.

"All right," he agreed. "Call it."

In the moment Hoshigake's hand went up to the hilt of his massive sword, arm blocking a little of his vision, she snapped, "Scatter!" The six of them spun away, into the trees, into the reeds, into the water.

"Hmm. Well, then, perhaps we may move our discussion to a calmer and drier place," Itachi said to the air, quite serenely, and took to the trees with a bound that barely stirred his robe.

"Track," Sakura's voice directed from the tree line. Sasuke nodded to himself and made for Itachi's right, as Sakura would be making for his left, trusting Neji's Byakugan to see them and show him his spot in the middle of the V. Naruto's regular spot.

An explosion echoed over the swamp from the direction Naruto had gone, and Sasuke jerked, wavering on his landing for a breath. Naruto would be all right, he told himself fiercely. And Sasuke would keep Itachi away from his teammate. Far away. Itachi wouldn't take anyone away from him again.

Itachi led them out of the swamp and into merely damp forest, alighting in a clearing, quite calmly out in the open. They bracketed him, and Sasuke pushed down a rush of tension, waiting for Sakura's call. It was Neji stepped out of the trees first, though.

"Hyuuga," Itachi murmured, tilting his head. "Neji-kun, if I recall correctly?" His eyes changed and Sakura's voice whipped across the clearing.

"Illusion, Neji, look out!"

Neji stiffened for a long moment, and Sasuke saw Itachi's mouth start to curve. It stopped when Neji shouted and his chakra flared for one instant into visibility, hard and edged. "The Uchiha descend from the Hyuuga," Neji said, voice rough now. "We have known them from the beginning. Did you think we kept no techniques against the thing that some of you became?"

"Ah. The honor of the Hyuuga. And where is your honor now, when you stand against the inheritor of Uchiha? Is your clan not allied to mine?" Itachi inquired.

Sakura landed beside Sasuke, pulling his attention off the conversation, off his brother, off his own rising horror and fury. Once again, Sasuke found himself grateful for Kakashi's wisdom; an anchor against the storm in his heart might be his strongest weapon right now.

Neji's voice dripped with well-bred scorn. "The inheritor? You?" He snorted. "You are a renegade and traitor. None of our obligations are to you any more. They are owed now to Sasuke alone."

"Ah?" Itachi raised his brows just a shade. "Am I misinformed, then? I had thought the Third and his filthy Elders too fearful of the Uchiha's influence to allow Sasuke to take his place properly as the head of the clan. Without a clan head, without that authority to declare, I cannot be a traitor."

Sasuke jerked behind his screen of tall grass, and felt Sakura's hand close on his shoulder, tight and steadying. It was true; he had never been recognized as the head of Uchiha and... he should have been. When he graduated and had formal rank as a shinobi, if no sooner. He'd always been open about his intent to refound the clan. Why...? Sudden uncertainty shook him half out of the concentration of the Sharingan.

Neji was quiet for a moment before he shrugged. "Well, we're a little short of the formal witnesses, but such things have long been acceptable on the battlefield." He raised his voice. "Sasuke? In the name of the noble clans of Hidden Leaf, I ask: do you accept responsibility for the clan of Uchiha?"

The question shivered down Sasuke's nerves. The responsibility of the clan head. For all of Uchiha, and that meant for Itachi, too. For the dead and for the insane blood of that night. For all their past. For the whole weight of the clan. It crushed down on him like a boulder, and for a moment he couldn't breathe.

...don't have to prove every bit of their honor all by yourself...

It was Jiraiya's words, echoing in his head, that broke the weight, sudden as a lamp turning on to light a dark room. The past... the past took care of itself. His teacher had said so, said that the Uchiha ancestors carried the weight of the clan's honor for him—carried it well. He screwed his eyes shut for a breath and told over the generations in his mind, and remembered, as he did, that even the banishment of a clan head had not killed the Uchiha honor. Quite the reverse.

And now, it must be done again. Not that much of a problem, surely, if it had been done once already. His clan didn't weigh him down; they stood behind him. The understanding made his shoulders lighter and he straightened them.

He took a deep breath and called out, "I accept responsibility for my clan."

Neji smiled, and even from this angle, Sasuke could see it was thin and hard. "I serve the heir of Hyuuga directly, and I speak with her voice. The Hyuuga acknowledge Uchiha Sasuke as the new clan head of Uchiha." That stated, he fell silent, waiting. Waiting for what had, inevitably, to come next.

Sasuke bit his lip hard, felt Sakura behind him, both hands on his shoulders. Heard another explosion, more massive than the last, off in Naruto's direction and nearly broke up laughing. That was exactly the way his idiot teammate would express his support.

Anchors.

Sasuke took another breath and spoke clearly. "Uchiha Itachi, I declare you traitor to our clan, and outcast."

"Large words, from the boy who's still too weak to face me himself," Itachi murmured.

That really did make Sasuke laugh, and the faint stir of Itachi's robes as he shifted at the sound made Sasuke smile, teeth bared. "You won't catch me that way. Not again. If others help me find my strength, it's still my own strength." That, he was sure of in his heart.

Itachi sighed faintly. "I was afraid this might happen, when you were assigned to Kakashi-senpai. Ah, well. Not all traps close firmly."

The glorious irony of hearing Itachi say that at the very moment Sakura's hands were flashing through seal on seal, almost made Sasuke laugh again as the ground opened just under Itachi's feet. Fuunotora must have taught Sakura that technique at some point, he thought, light-headed.

Itachi flickered aside from the earth traps, and that was Neji's cue to strike. Really, Sasuke thought, wasn't it about time he pitched in? He didn't have to do it all himself, no, but surely it wasn't fair to make everyone else do all the work either.

That sounded alarmingly like Jiraiya, in his head, but at the moment he didn't care. He was still on the edge of dizzy laughter as he threw the wired kunai for his Lightning Dragon into Itachi's path. He and Sakura had to spring apart after he triggered it; that one showed his location clearly. But that was all right. He could feel it again, now, the anchoring solidity of his team beside him, behind him. His mind was moving again, reading Sakura's intent in the pattern of footing traps she set under Itachi, one after another. Sasuke's part was to harry Itachi from above, to sting him with distance attacks so that Neji had a chance to close and whittle away his chakra.

It wasn't going to be easy.

Itachi was fast, and half the time his kunai picked Sasuke's out of the air, and though fire techniques left the trees and ground smoldering Sasuke hadn't singed him yet. Neji had only gotten in two solid strikes, and those weren't to vital points. If Itachi's chakra was getting deranged, it wasn't obvious yet.

It was Itachi's focus that was the problem. Sasuke watched, eyes sharp again, observing the way Itachi avoided their attacks, the smoothness of his movements. They needed another distraction. And even though the idea made his stomach clench, Sasuke thought he knew what would work.

"Why?" he called out, throwing his voice a little along the edge of the clearing. "Why did you kill our clan?"

"It's our way, little brother." The bastard barely even sounded out of breath. "Surely you've read our history by now. Friend to kill friend for power."

"That's a forbidden technique!" Sasuke yelled and hurled another shuriken viciously. "It isn't our way!" No matter how many had tried, down the years. Dozens of people, attempting to gain power and make someone else pay the price. But it was listed as forbidden in the clan's own records!

"On the contrary." Itachi slipped aside from Sakura's wire trap and flickered out of her earth jutsu trap again. "It's the way of all shinobi. The villages fight each other, regardless of the damage to their own countries or to others. The villages fight themselves, and factions twist their own people in the name of victory or of rightness." He turned, eyes catching Sasuke in the trees and following him, though Sasuke avoided meeting them. "Don't you think it's interesting that both sides always proclaim themselves right, justified over and above their opponents to take whatever action they must, and so take exactly the same actions? This corruption is the one thing we all share, no matter what badge we wear." He turned a shade too far and Neji lunged, palm striking Itachi's side, not solid enough to finish him but enough to make him grunt and spin away with less grace than usual, robe flapping.

It was working, Sasuke told himself coldly. Keep going.

"So you thought you'd be a better monster than anyone else, is that it?" he called, and ducked under the illusion screen Sakura had woven into the grasses.

"Oh, no," Itachi answered, eerily calm as he met a flurry of Neji's hand strikes, losing Sasuke's track again. "I intend to destroy the entire thing: Hidden Leaf and all the other villages. Consider. The Uchiha were the police force of Konoha, and its first line of military defense at home. If they were destroyed, the village would be vulnerable." He whirled to meet Sasuke's Fire Blossom with his own, completing the spin to fend off Neji again. "Sooner or later, another village would attack it, but the Leaf wouldn't die easily. So even in victory, the other village would be wounded and easy prey in their turn. The Leaf would have died and the Sand been next, three and some years ago, if it hadn't been for the Nine-tails' young Sacrifice. If that interference is removed, all will go well."

Sasuke slid down to his knees in the grass, control shaken by sickness. Sakura landed beside him, eyes wide and horrified, hands clenched against her chest. Even Neji fell back, staring at Itachi. "You're mad," he said, husky.

"Your clan is, itself, an example of what shinobi do," Itachi noted. "Though not the worst, by any means. Ask the Elder, Shimura Danzou, what 'Root' is, when you return. If, of course, you return." He smiled faintly. "You have dropped your guard, Hyuuga Neji-kun."

His eyes changed again and Sasuke swore, groping for another shuriken, or another coil of wire as Neji went stiff again for a breath. Then another.

"That won't be enough to break his hold," Sakura muttered, and her hands flashed through the activation of her seal. The Sharingan saw it flare to life, all the wild colors of nature energy, and Sakura was gone, heel blasting into Itachi's back.

Neji fell to hands and knees as Itachi rolled to his feet again, and Sasuke dashed out to drag him clear, checking him over with the first aid Naruto had made both he and Sakura learn. Pulse was ragged, muscles spasming, and Neji's eyes couldn't quite focus. "Tsukuyomi," Sasuke gritted out, like it was a curse.

"Half," Neji gasped. "Be all right. Help Sakura."

Sasuke nodded tightly and left him in the shelter of the trees, circling back around Sakura's lightning-fast fight with Itachi. Her hands blurred, even to the Sharingan's vision, as she slammed up stone walls and slammed down the brutal weight of water. She was, he thought, faster even than Itachi. But he was only using his chakra to defend against the jutsu, lunging again and again to close with her hand to hand. Even the power of the seal couldn't give Sakura the kind of experience Itachi had at that. Again and again, he performed a block or disengage she didn't know, made her spend her chakra to counter physical attacks with an elemental technique. Sasuke flung scavenged kunai to break Itachi's form in the air, sent fire at his legs to break it on the ground, but the clock in his head was ticking inexorably down and Itachi was still going.

And then, finally, one attack got through, straight and true. Sakura's heel smashed into Itachi's ribs, and Sasuke could see it as they gave way.

And they were out of time.

Sakura's face was twisted with frustration as she broke off and swapped herself into the trees, hands weaving the deactivation as she fell to her knees beside Neji. "Okay?" she panted.

"Caught me with some of that demon illusion of his," Neji rasped. "Not the whole thing. With his ribs gone, I might be able to fight him again."

"We'll try to buy more time, then," Sakura said, mouth in a grim line. "I have a little energy; I can't use the seal again, but I can keep away from him I think. And the others should be coming soon. I hope."

"My turn to take point, then," Sasuke said, low, and Sakura squeezed his shoulder.

"Be careful," she ordered, and he smiled.

"As much as I can." The smile crept wider at the disgruntled face she made at that, and he slipped through the trees to emerge from them a third of the way around the clearing.

On the principle of further distraction, he asked, as he stepped out, "Why did you leave me alive?"

Itachi raised his brows, though Sasuke could only see the edge of that with his gaze fixed on Itachi's chest. "To take your eyes, of course," he said with an edge of patience, as though it should be obvious. "Once you've achieved the Mangekyou Sharingan, I will take your eyes and my own sight will be preserved from deterioration. I believe it's actually an effect of incompatibility," he went on as Sasuke froze in horror. "It must be a sibling's eyes, to make them compatible enough to use techniques at full strength. But the fact that they are not one's own provides just enough dampening of the chakra resonance to prevent a recurrence of blindness."

"I will never kill the friends closest to me," Sasuke whispered, barely remembering to keep his eyes on Itachi's chest.

Itachi actually sighed. "I had gathered that. It's unfortunate, especially after all my encouragement the last time we met. But luckily I believe there is another way." He smiled just a little. "A way to produce just that depth of grief and guilt that will awaken this potential in our blood. We shall see." And he sprang up, cloak whirling out as he sent a rain of shuriken spinning down toward Sasuke.

Sasuke, who could taste his own rising rage like blood in his mouth. His hands slammed into the only seal he needed these days for the Great Fireball, and he sent it howling up, blasting the shuriken aside, engulfing Itachi and rising out of the trees to burst in the sky. Itachi was smoking as he landed, but that faint smile was still here.

"Yes. I think perhaps it will work."

Sasuke bared his teeth.

Fire raged and flared against fire as they fought across the clearing, and the clearing was a good deal wider the next time they both paused, red eyes fixed across the bare-burned ground.

It was then, of course, that Naruto pelted into the space, right between them, eyes wild and teeth bared.

"Ah," Itachi murmured. "Good. I did think this one would be a surer bet than the girl."

Naruto was turning toward the voice, and Sasuke was already airborne as he yelled, "Don't look in his eyes, you idiot!" He landed nearly on Naruto's head and, as they both went sprawling, hauled him close and tumbled them both unceremoniously back toward the tree line.

"I'm watching, take a minute," Sakura rapped out as she landed beside them, eyes steady on the clearing. "Naruto, are you all right? Any injuries?"

"I'm fine," Naruto growled, struggling back up. "That blond Akatsuki is dead. We got... the body back."

Sakura pulled in a hard breath, jaw setting. "We'll see if there's anything we can do once Itachi is put away. Listen. I think he's going to try to kill one of us first, not Sasuke."

"Yeah, well good luck to him on that," Naruto spat, and suddenly the clearing was filled and overflowing with Shadow Clones, all of them with Naruto's feral, slitted eyes.

"Naruto!" Sasuke snapped, shaking his shoulder. This wasn't good. Itachi was a strategist like Sakura, no matter how insane he ultimately was. If Naruto stopped thinking and also stopped listening...

"They're not getting any more of you!" Naruto yelled, and the clones rushed forward like an avalanche falling on Itachi.

For a moment, Sasuke thought it might actually work. Naruto had gotten better at controlling the clones, and right now he had the focus of a predator. Itachi went down in a welter of claws like steel and the storm of Naruto's rage. Sasuke took a breath, starting to think...

The clearing erupted in black flame.

Sasuke shouted and wove his hands together with frantic speed, backburning around where Naruto was, in the middle of the clones, of course, the idiot...

His flames were smothered by the black ones. As if the flames themselves were being consumed. The ground blasted up around Naruto's feet to form a break, a shield, and he saw Sakura, beside him, on her knees and shaking with the drain on her chakra.

The black flames ate the earth itself and closed in. Sasuke's throat was torn with a shout that matched Sakura's, and he lunged one useless bound forward.

The flames died. In their wake was Itachi, standing beside a scorched and dazed Naruto. "Amaterasu, the fires of the underworld," he explained, quite calmly. "The final technique of our clan. Of fire itself. It will consume anything." He smiled into Sasuke's eyes, and when had Sasuke looked up? "And now your friend will die. Because of you. Only because of you, and for the sake of your power. Know this."

The words clawed at Sasuke's mind as Itachi reached under his robe and drew a sword. His fault. His doing, that his friend would die. The accusation, the knowledge, the approaching fate twisted deep into his thoughts. His friend, his teammate, the one who was always with him, thoughtlessly giving and guarding and arguing and name-calling.

You're ours. That's all.

He was theirs, and they were his, and even refusing to say the words hadn't kept this fate from coming for them. Itachi would kill his family again.

His new family. His only family. His anchor in the middle of the rage rising through him now.

No. No.

"NO!" Sasuke screamed, ripping himself free of the illusion twining around his mind. The sword was coming down. Naruto was only stirring, groggily, still stunned by the return of all those burned clones. Sakura's hands were coming together in the second hand seal of her activation, tears starting down her cheeks. She would kill herself and it still wouldn't be fast enough. There was no time; it was impossible.

He didn't give a damn.

Sasuke snatched up chakra from the bottom of his bones, from the corners of his soul. There was nothing to send it through, nothing to channel it, and he didn't care. His family would not die. Not again. He threw his hands forward, locking them at the last moment into the Bird, and screamed again as lightning blasted out. It lashed out, directed somehow and he didn't know how, but unchanneled, unshaped, grounding into the trees, nearly hitting Neji as he interrupted his lunge for Itachi to fling himself flat.

And it struck Itachi.

It threw him back from Naruto, twitching and gasping, and he lay still where he landed. Sasuke stood, panting for breath, shaking with the raw force he'd blasted out, and it was long seconds before he managed to stagger to Naruto's side. Naruto was hauling himself back to his feet, looking around dazed and shocked but with his hands still clenched. His lip curled back when he spotted Itachi, and he took a step in that direction.

Sasuke whacked him across the back of the head. "Moron!"

"Ow, hey!" Naruto covered his head with his hands and glared at Sasuke. "What the hell, jerk?! I'm trying to protect you, here!"

"Fine job you did of it!" Sasuke snapped back. "Nearly got your idiot self killed, and the demon hells only know how I got that last lightning strike to work trying to save your sorry ass!"

"Who asked you to?" Naruto demanded, now nose to nose with him.

"Who the hell had to ask?!" Sasuke yelled. "You don't ask your team for that!"

"I think," Neji interrupted them rather dryly, dirt streaked as he crawled back to his feet, "you might want to stop before you make Sakura any worse."

"Huh?" Naruto looked around, eyes wide and alarmed.

Now they weren't yelling, it was easy to hear Sakura again. She was on the ground with her face buried in her hands, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

Okay, maybe Neji had a point. Sasuke straightened up and cleared his throat, self-conscious.

"Well," a cracked voice rasped behind them. "Perhaps you should take my eyes, instead, then."

Sasuke and Naruto stumbled as they swung back around, and Sakura gasped, flowing up to her feet again.

"What would I want them for?" Sasuke demanded, the first thing that came to mind as he flinched at the sight of his brother and tried to close his heart to the burns over Itachi's exposed skin.

Itachi actually smiled. "You may want them to face our twice-great-grandfather."

The world froze around him and Sasuke couldn't hear anything but the rush of his own blood in his ears. His own blood. Twice-great.... "Uchiha Madara is dead," he whispered. "He died after his battle with the First."

"He stays out of sight, usually. But it's his hand that guides Akatsuki." Itachi's eyes were black, Sasuke observed, distracted. This couldn't be a hallucination. "I suppose he will accomplish my goal, in the end." Itachi looked up at the sky and sighed. "He thinks the villages will submit to him. But it will simply be war. The greatest war. That will do, I suppose." He smiled up at nothing. "So?"

Sasuke walked slowly to stand over Itachi, looking down at him, at that calm, mad smile that was waiting for his answer. "The Uchiha," he started and choked on the name. Madara. A head of the clan, before he was banished. What was the Uchiha clan, after all?

You're the last Uchiha, I don't see why you can't do whatever you please and call that what Uchihas do.

Sasuke actually huffed out half a laugh as Jiraiya's voice came back to him. Old pervert thought he had an answer for everything. He looked down at Itachi, who now had his brows raised a little in his burned face.

"No."

He called Chidori into his hand, tiny but focused, and slammed it down into Itachi's chest, over his heart. One spine-cracking spasm and it was over.

Over. His revenge was accomplished. He felt no satisfaction, and wondered for a dizzy breath if he was disrespecting the memory of his clan. Or perhaps he was just too tired. He was very tired. But then he caught Neji's eye, across the clearing, and the fog in his head parted a little. Something needed to be said, after all.

He straightened his shoulders and said, firmly. "The Uchiha do not use forbidden techniques. We uphold the laws of Konoha. At need, we execute them as well."

Neji nodded back to him, soberly, accepting his judgment for the village's noble clans.

Not revenge. Protection. To protect his people, whatever the cost. That was the duty of the Uchiha.

And the Uchiha were not dead. Sasuke managed a full breath.

Naruto laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. It's over. Okay?"

The Uchiha weren't dead, but his brother was—the last of his family. A shudder ripped through Sasuke and he reached out blindly, more grateful than he'd ever been before for Naruto's complete lack of decorum, the immediacy with which arms went around him and pulled him tight against his teammate. Sakura's hands spread against his back, rubbing slowly up and down in the rhythm Naruto had taught them to counter shock. "This part is over," she said softly. "Now you can come home. It's all right, Sasuke. We'll take you home safe."

She had gone away, too, and come home again. She understood. And Naruto wouldn't leave him. His team would bring him home.

Home to them. His family.

Another deep breath and the choking in his throat eased, the band around his chest loosened a little. "I'm okay," he whispered against Naruto's shoulder, husky. "Okay for now."

Naruto was looking suspicious and overprotective as Sasuke straightened up, but Sakura squeezed his shoulders one last time and let him go. Neji was tying the last knots of rope around Itachi's body, preparing it for carrying. "Ready?" he asked, tactfully looking down at the rope.

"Yeah," Sakura said for all of them. "Let's go."

A/N: Kishimoto's retconning of the Uchiha history in general was almost as hideously clunky as his retconning of Itachi in particular. There are too many conflicts with prior canon, and the result is too boring. So in this story the Sage of Six Paths, and the eternal enmity of the Senju and Uchiha, and the corollary that the Uchiha are Doomed to Do It Wrong... yeah, none of that happened. The Rinnengan is its own thing, because for pity's sake not every eye-technique needs to be related. The elders, and Danzou in particular, did indeed fear the clan's power, but there were no clan-wide plans for rebellion, Itachi was not assigned to kill the clan as some kind of sick attempt at "peace", none of that happened. Itachi is insane, period. The vast majority of the Uchiha were entirely honorable, if also rather messed up, as the noble shinobi clans do tend to be. And the whole go-round with Tobi did nothing but annoy me, and feels way too much like Kishimoto wondering what the heck to do next, so I'm ignoring all that. Akatsuki knows who Madara is, and there are no minions.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Fourteen

Naruto is figuring out how to work with the Nine-tails, but Akatsuki is getting bolder. Shikamaru brings them word of the attack on Fire Country and when the new Akatsuki team finds the Island Turtle Jiraiya is the next to pay for facing them. Drama, Action, Angst, I-5

Naruto bounced on his toes in the middle of the rocky clearing B had said he could practice in without tripping over the Island's animals. He was having So. Much. Fun.

Grinning idiot, the fox muttered in the back of his head. Naruto ignored that; Nine-tails spent a lot of time saying things like that to him lately.

"Hey, hey, ero-sennin," he grinned. "I bet I can do that move you told me not to do, now."

"Naruto," Jiraiya said warningly, starting to get up from his spot under a tree where he had agreed to watch over Naruto's training when Kakashi-sensei insisted he needed a break. And a drink. But Naruto was sure he could do this one.

He grabbed two clones into being and held out a hand for the Rasengan and concentrated. This was the hard part. As he fed in chakra, one of the clones transformed it to the Wind nature and the other... he grinned wider.

Are you crazy, you idiot? the fox barked, and Naruto felt the hasty rush of the Nine-tails' power to his arm, shielding him from his own creation.

This will work, he said back, silently the way he'd learned to after a couple of caustic comments from the Nine-tails about babbling Leaf brats.

Only because I'm using half of my power to keep your fool arm in once piece! The fox actually yelped as Naruto pulled a little more power to hold the re-shaped Rasengan's form. There's nothing left for anything else if you still want to power that damn thing. You're completely vulnerable!

"That," Naruto said out loud, through his teeth, "is what a team is for!" He turned and hurled the Rasenshuriken at the peak of the crag behind him. It held form and struck in an explosion of pulverized rock, and he punched the air in triumph. "Yes!"

"What," Jiraiya demanded, frozen halfway to his feet and staring at Naruto narrowly, "did you do?"

Naruto grinned some more. "Well, see, if Nine-tails gives me his chakra, I get a lot more than I do just through the seal normally. So there's enough to protect my arm and still form a Wind Rasengan into a throwing shape!"

Jiraiya frowned. "That has to take a great deal of chakra to accomplish."

"That's what he said too," Naruto agreed. "He says there isn't any left over. But, like I told him, that's what a team is for. So I can still use that if I have to."

Jiraiya sighed, and rubbed his forehead. "Maybe it was a mistake to let Kakashi have the three of you for so long," he muttered.

Naruto smiled up at him. "Nah, it was just right. Because we're going to need our teamwork now, aren't we?"

Jiraiya stood the rest of the way, only to lean back against the tree with a thump. "Not unlikely." His mouth quirked. "You really do remind me a lot of her, sometimes." When Naruto blinked he clarified, "Tsunade. Best healer you ever saw, and absolutely terrifying in the field. The things she would come up with! There was this one time, up at the border of River and Sky. We'd retreated so she could take care of my broken ribs and lung, and a flanking group of Rain-nin just about tripped over us." He took a long drink. "Idiot woman wouldn't let go of me since she was in the middle of healing, so she electrified herself. Anyone who touched her got their neural signals scrambled like an egg, and she actually magnetized her damn knife with the current, so it drew all the shuriken and kunai." He sighed. "Of course, that strained even her control and reserves, and she nearly passed out when she finished with me. Try not to imitate that part."

Naruto nodded, wide-eyed. She'd never told him that story.

Jiraiya clapped Naruto's shoulder in passing as he turned them both back toward the encampment, "You're right, used with a team to support you it should work. I think, since it's your idea, you should be the one to explain it to Sakura and Sasuke."

Naruto swallowed hard. "Oh."

Perfectly concealed in the shifting shadows of the trees, the one who was currently called Sai watched them go and looked back thoughtfully at the broken rubble Naruto's strike had left. That had been a remarkably powerful attack. He could understand why Danzou-sama had assigned him to keep watch on the Nine-tails and its vessel.

Not that he really needed to understand, of course.

With a flicker, the shadows were empty again.

Another day, another training session. This time, Sakura had insisted very firmly that she and Sasuke were coming along. If he was going to need them to cover him, they would all practice together.

By the time she got to that part, Naruto's ears had been ringing hard enough from the rest of her reaction that he'd agreed meekly. Of course, that meant that the fox spent a lot of his time growling sidelong at Sasuke. Naruto couldn't decide whether that was better or worse than having the fox telling him off for sloppy technique.

Sakura flashed over the rocks, playing opponent for this round, nearly glowing the the power of her seal, and her fist punched right through Naruto's half-formed Rasengan. He yelped as Sasuke dove in front of him, driving Sakura back for an instant with a burst of flame.

"Where's your concentration today?" Sasuke demanded, rounding on him. "That was pathetic."

The fox actually whined.

Naruto sighed. "Nine-tails keeps glaring at you; it's distracting. Though it is kind of funny when you both get pissy about my technique and he gets all pained about having to agree with an Uchiha," he added reflectively.

Mouthy brat, the fox snapped.

"What?" Naruto asked, looking aside so the other two would know who he was talking to. "It's totally true."

Sasuke sighed. "Would it help if I swore to him that I would never try to bind him unless it was to save you?"

No, the Nine-tails answered sharply. That was how I wound up sealed in the first place. Damn humans.

"I think that would just mean he growls at you because you're like Mito-san, instead of because you're like Madara," Naruto relayed, mouth quirking. "He just likes throwing tantrums."

BRAT! the fox howled, and Naruto snickered.

"I'm glad to see the two of you are getting along so well," Sasuke said, a bit dryly. "If it's distracting you, though, we'd better work on it some more. I don't want to think about what he'll be saying if we ever do come up against Madara."

"Bet Naruto would pick up some new names to call his opponents," Sakura put in, obviously amused by the whole thing. "Come on, then. One more time. Sasuke's turn to attack." She tugged up her gloves and set herself beside Naruto.

Naruto took a deep breath and formed a new Wind Rasengan, readying himself to hold it against Sasuke's Fire techniques. He was getting faster at forming them, no question, but pushing in enough of the Nine-tails' chakra without bursting the sphere—that was the trick.

The sun slanted down the high blue sky as they worked, one Rasengan after another holding or bursting. It was hours before both Sasuke and the fox were grudgingly satisfied. Naruto collapsed to sprawl out on the thin turf. "I don't know why you don't like him better," he panted at the fox. "You think way too alike."

"Well no wonder you tease the Nine-tails so much, then," Sakura laughed, sitting next to him a lot more gracefully. She had a lot more endurance these days, and activated and deactivated her seal like breathing. Naruto was kind of envious; he wished he could do it that easily with the Nine-tails' chakra.

"He'd better understand that it's just teasing," Sasuke muttered darkly, handing the water bottle over to Naruto. Naruto smiled up at him, with the warm feeling in his chest that Sasuke's little moments of protectiveness always gave him. And maybe the fox was worn out by all his growling or something, because he seemed to settle, too.

They rested in quiet for a while, but it wasn't long before Sakura cocked her head. "Listen. Is someone coming?"

Sure enough, Iruka-san appeared through the trees, from the direction of the encampment. "There's a messenger from Konoha coming!" he called to them, waving. "Do you want to be there to see who it is?"

Naruto bounced up to his feet at that. "Yeah!" They had messenger birds pretty regularly, but they hadn't had a person since they all got to the island and it started moving. Personally, he was dying for some gossip from home.

Most of the Leaf contingent was gathered at the shore to see who'd come, and almost as many people from the other nations. Naruto supposed this was a pretty boring assignment, so far, for people who weren't figuring out to how fight with a crotchety old fox growling in their ears.

The blue-sailed boat running up the island's flank was one of the Lightning Country's, and Naruto could see the sailors hustling around the deck already but he couldn't see anyone he knew with them. He managed not to sigh, but he did slump a little, only to be nudged by Sasuke.

"The passengers will stay out of the way until landing," Sasuke said quietly. "I learned that fast, traveling with Jiraiya."

Naruto perked up again. "Oh." He grinned a little and leaned against Sasuke's shoulder in silent thanks.

Sure enough, as the boat eased up against the rocky inlet, more heads appeared and Ino squealed. "Shikamaru! It's Shikamaru and Chouji!"

Watching her light up, Naruto wondered if Sakura was really right, and Ino would be easier to deal with now her real team was here. He sure hoped so. He bet her Intelligence team hoped so too. Everyone crowded down toward the boat as Shikamaru and Chouji climbed up to the shore.

"Shikamaru?" Ino whispered, stopping short. Naruto's head snapped up and around to stare at her. She sounded afraid.

Abruptly, Ino was elbowing ruthlessly through the small crowd, shoving other ninja out of her path with no regard for rank. She caught Shikamaru's shoulders. "What is it? What happened?"

Everyone quieted at that, and Shikamaru's voice was clear in the silence, though he didn't raise it.

"Two of Akatsuki were in the Fire Country. They attacked the Fire Temple before we found them. Asuma-san..." Shikamaru closed his eyes. "Asuma-san was killed."

Ino made a small, sharp sound, biting her lip hard enough to turn it white.

"Raidou-san's team joined us," Shikamaru went on steadily. "We picked up Mitarashi-san's team when we reported in, and Hyuuga Tokuma located the Akatsuki pair when they came back toward the village again. That time, we stopped them."

"Jiraiya-san should hear about this," Kakashi-sensei said quietly, coming to rest a hand on Shikamaru's shoulder. Shikamaru just nodded and caught Ino's hand when she started to protest.

"I'll be there after I've reported." Their eyes held for a long moment, and Ino nodded like he'd said something more.

"C'mon, Chouji," she said briskly. "I'll get you guys settled in the Leaf building."

The crowd broke up and followed slowly in Kakashi-sensei and Shikamaru's wake back toward the encampment. Naruto's team closed up around Ino and Chouji, along with Kiba, Hinata, and Shino, silent support for their yearmates.

"Shikamaru's still really torn up," Chouji was saying as they climbed. "He almost scared me, when he was setting up the ambush for Hidan, the one who killed Asuma-sensei. But, you know, I think what really hurts is that he can't do more for Kurenai-san."

Ino winced. "Fuck. Is she...?"

"She's pretty broken up," Chouji said softly, looking down at the path.

"Kurenai-sensei," Hinata whispered, hand pressed against her lips.

"What?" Naruto asked her, worried by all this cryptic concern. "Is there something wrong with Kurenai-san?"

"Kurenai-sensei is going to have a child," she said softly. "By Asuma-san."

Naruto's eyes widened. "Oh shit." Unwanted information cascaded through his brain, about pregnancy and stress and all the really bad things that a shinobi's usual coping methods could do to a developing baby. "She's got a good doctor, right?" he asked anxiously. "I mean, she's got someone who knows what they're doing, right? They're not going to let her drink too much or spar till she falls down or anything stupid like usual, right?"

All seven of them stared at him for a blank moment before Sakura and then Ino started laughing, and Kiba rolled his eyes. "Who was it decided Naruto should be a medic, again?" he asked thin air. "I think you mean 'stupid like you'."

Naruto planted his fists on his hips and glared. "I'm serious! There are, like, lectures on all the crazy stuff shinobi do and how you have to remind them not to if they're pregnant!"

"Kurenai-sensei is more sensible than that," Shino remarked.

"And I asked Neji-niisan to look after her, when we had to leave," Hinata added, reassuring.

"Well all right, then." Naruto tried to put hospital horror stories out of his mind while they found a room for Chouji and Shikamaru, and settled down to wait for Shikamaru to return.

It didn't take long. Ino pulled him down onto the bedroll between her and Chouji almost before he was all the way through the door, and Naruto couldn't say she was wrong. Shikamaru looked older, today. Harder and darker. Naruto felt the Nine-tails stir inside him.

"Chouji and I will be part of Raidou-san's team, for now," Shikamaru said quietly. "We'll keep looking for Akatsuki's bases in Fire Country." He looked up at Naruto and there was fire in those dark eyes, the kind of fire Naruto was a lot more used to seeing in Sasuke's. "They won't get past us."

Naruto clenched a fist, frustrated. "We should stop hiding, me and B. They'll come to us, if we stop hiding, and then this wouldn't have happened!"

For a moment Shikamaru seemed to waver, and then he closed his eyes with a sigh. "Yes, it probably would," he said, low. "Unless we'd had information beforehand about what those zombie freaks could do. The one who killed Asuma-san couldn't die. I mean really couldn't die. And his ritual meant every wound to him happened to his opponent too."

Sakura pressed a hand to her mouth. "Shit," she hissed though it.

A corner of Shikamaru's mouth twitched up in a grim not-smile. "Yeah. I didn't see it fast enough."

Ino smacked him on the shoulder, hard. "You stop that! It wasn't your fault!" She paused and glanced over at Naruto. "It wasn't anyone's fault but Akatsuki's," she finished, soft and steady. "So you shut up too, Naruto. We're not going to hang you out for bait."

"Asuma-san," Hinata whispered, voice shaky, and leaned into Kiba when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. More firmly she repeated, "Asuma-san's memory does honor to his clan. We shouldn't... shouldn't take that away."

Naruto scrunched up his face, trying to work that out. "Huh?" he finally asked.

A breath of a laugh escaped Shikamaru, though he still looked down at his hands. "Yeah. Even if we're not part of a noble clan... we're still shinobi of the Leaf." He looked up at last. "We took down two of Akatsuki and only lost two lives. We did that without risking them getting their hands on our host. We did it to protect our village and country—the lives in our care." He took a slow, trembling breath. "Including our village's children. Asuma-san died to keep those things safe—not happily, but willingly." He smiled, a little crookedly, at Naruto. "You need to let other people do that too, you know; it's not just you."

Naruto opened his mouth to protest, and closed it again slowly. If Asuma-san had felt the same way he did, about protecting precious things... he looked down, swallowing against the ball of sadness and pride swirling inside him like one of his own Rasengan. "Yeah," he said, husky. "That's... that's something that should be honored. You're right, Hinata."

"It will be," Sasuke said, resting a hand on Naruto's shoulder. "Like the others who have gone before."

Hinata nodded against Kiba's shoulder. "He left this in our hands. Now it's our turn," she said softly.

That hot spark of fury flickered in Shikamaru's eyes again for a moment. "Yes. It is."

"When we get back," Chouji spoke up firmly, laying one big hand on Shikamaru's back, and Shikamaru smiled at him, rueful and sidelong.

"Yeah, I hear you." He stretched his arms up and let out a breath and looked a little more his usual self as he asked Ino, "So, how's your Intelligence team here doing?"

"Oh my god, never speak of them to me, ever!" Ino waved her hands wildly. "Sato and Tanaka broke up right before we started this mission, and they'll barely even speak to each other unless there's actually a blade coming at one of them. And then there's Sai, who makes Naruto look well-socialized!"

Kiba blinked. "Wow." Naruto growled and Shino quietly drew Hinata against his own side, clearing the way for Naruto to jump on Kiba and scuffle.

Ino pointed at them. "That! He's even worse than that!"

Everyone was laughing a little by the time Naruto finished knuckling Kiba's head and sat back down with his own team, and he congratulated himself on a job well done. Ino looked satisfied, too, and he figured she'd had the same thing in mind as he had. It wasn't long before they all broke up to their own rooms to sleep, and he hoped they might just all manage to get to sleep, now.

On the mainland, a lean man with hypnotically ringed eyes lifted his hand from the head of a slumped Cloud ninja. Slowly, his eyes focused again. "They're on Cloud's Island Turtle, out on the sea. They'll be moving constantly."

The silent-footed woman beside him cupped her hands, staring into them for a moment. When she parted them a flock of paper birds fluttered up into the sky and swooped east, toward the coast. "Don't worry, Nagato. We'll find them."

Being in the temple really weirded Naruto out, but it was the only place where he could practice full transformation. At least, the only place he could practice it without totally freaking out the whole encampment, so the temple it was.

Not that he had much to freak anyone out with, so far.

"This is ridiculous." Naruto lashed the fan of furry tails trailing behind him.

That's my pride you're waving around, Nine-tails snapped. Have a little respect, brat!

"No, no," B waved a hand. "It's a good sign that you can manifest all the tails. That's the last step before a full transformation."

Naruto sighed. At least he was getting somewhere. Even if Sakura had really, truly lost her mind, when he started working on this, and said the tails were cute. Cute! As if! The Nine-tails had hunkered down inside him in a disgusted huff after that one, and he hadn't been able to get a damn thing more done that day.

"You're gonna need time for this." B leaned against the temple wall, large arms folded. "It takes a lot of trust to really transform, and you and the Nine-tails haven't been talking for long."

Naruto scowled and kicked a stone stair; he knew it was probably true, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Omoi, sitting cross-legged at B's feet, looked up at that, completely solemn. "Hey, you should be careful. I mean, what if you accidentally kicked a secret switch and set off the self-destruct for the temple and then that set off an avalanche down into the valley..."

Karui rolled her eyes and promptly put him in a headlock. Naruto grinned a little as Omoi flailed theatrically; she sure was easy to wind up. He could see why Omoi did it so much.

"Stop complaining, Naruto," Sasuke called from the steps off to the other side. "Just work on your Rasengan while you've got the tails out."

Naruto sighed. "Yeah, yeah, fine." He supposed practice was good even if it wasn't quite full power yet. And, in a way, the tails were a bonus. He chewed on his tongue with concentration, arching two of the tails forward to press against the chakra gathering in his palm.

As long as he had the tails, he didn't need clones to do this. That part was kind of cool.

He had just completed a Rasenshuriken with his tails when the temple door slammed open. One of the Sand genin stood in it, panting. "Akatsuki," he gasped, "they're here! Commander Jiraiya is down!"

The Rasenshuriken came undone in a clap like thunder as Naruto sprinted for the door, jumping straight over the Sand-nin. He barely noticed Sakura and Sasuke coming up on either side or his forgotten tails streaming behind him as he streaked down the path toward the encampment, heart in his mouth. The crags and trees around them were alive with blasts and crashes, and Naruto wondered for a flashing moment whether Akatsuki had somehow had way more people than they'd all thought.

Leaping down the last steps on the temple path, Naruto looked around wildly, head whipping back and forth as he searched through the chaos for Jiraiya.

"There!" Sasuke snapped, red eyes narrow and sharp, pointing to the cracked wall of the building the Mist shinobi had taken over.

A body with long white hair lay at the base of the wall.

Naruto pounded over and threw himself down, only vaguely aware of Sakura spinning around to guard his back, of Darui standing on the broken wall and barking orders, of B coming behind them, of Sasuke on his knees on the other side of Jiraiya with wide, haunted eyes, hands reaching out helplessly. Jiraiya was barely breathing, each faint breath caught short. Broken ribs, then. Internal bleeding probably. Heat under Naruto's fingertips as he ran them delicately over Jiraiya's skull warned of bleeding there too, sluggish now because Jiraiya had almost no blood left. His throat was half crushed. And...

Naruto bared his teeth, hands pausing over Jiraiya's stomach.

"B," Darui was saying, voice hard, as Naruto looked up, "there are giant animals all over the island. Can you get the native animals after them without killing us too?"

"On it," B rumbled, running past them without breaking stride.

"Darui-san," Naruto said, low. "I'm going to try something. Don't stop me."

Darui frowned down at him. "What are you going to do?"

Naruto's hands were already lighting up with chakra as he reached down, down, crying out in wordless demand to Nine-tails. "I'm going to heal him."

Sakura knelt down beside them with her back to the wall. "Get me Hinata," she snapped, "and we can cover him."

"Like I would stop a healing?" Darui muttered before yelling for someone to find Hyuuga Hinata. Naruto shut all of that out. Sakura and Sasuke would take care of it; he trusted them. He had to, because what he was about to try wasn't actually possible. Jiraiya had a broken spine. Nerve injuries could sometimes be fixed, especially if the nerves were intact and just not signaling, or signaling wrong. A spinal cord that was physically torn couldn't be. It wasn't possible.

Well, neither was reviving someone who was dead.

He was going to do it anyway.

He focused down and down again, tighter than he'd ever done before. His hands were glowing with the fine patterning of chakra that made the base for Mystic Palms. The bleeding was stopping, and new blood was generating fast. Good. Jiraiya would live long enough for him to do this, though he'd be a while recovering the body mass being eaten up by this healing. Naruto reached deeper into himself, and felt the fox's agreement, casual but ungrudging. Naruto gritted his teeth as that wild chakra rushed through him, sharp-edged, fighting to hold it, to work it...

His tails reached forward.

As they fanned and wrapped over Jiraiya, the raging pressure, the ragged pain of handling so much fox chakra smoothed out. Naruto rested his forehead on Jiraiya's chest, dizzy and panting, vision starting to go fractured and dark with the clash of alien and familiar as he molded chakra with his tails, wove it finer and finer, until he could string it between the snapped ends of spinal nerves, teasing them back together. Slowly, slowly, and he was gasping for air now, human hands fisted in Jiraiya's shirt as the signals of human and fox body warred up and down his own spine. The torn nerve ends crept closer, closer as he poured all his power into this most delicate of work, chakra scattering out of his control around the edges.

He was losing too much energy for the work he was accomplishing. The pace of healing was too slow. This would take too much to finish, more than he had. But he couldn't stop now, he couldn't, he wouldn't! Jiraiya had been one of the first to believe in him, to trust him and teach him, been the one to pass on the things his parents couldn't. His teacher and Sasuke's, one of the people who had helped put Sasuke back together. Naruto didn't care how much it cost him. He would find a way!

His own strength was giving out, but the fox's strength was still raging through him, threatening to overwhelm him, and there were still gaping canyons of micrometers to go, and he screamed, half at the fox and half at Jiraiya and mostly at the universe to let this work. The fox snorted, in his head, and the inhuman chakra he shaped steadied for five precious heartbeats more.

And it was done.

Naruto collapsed over Jiraiya, breath sobbing in his lungs. You owe me one, idiot kit, whispered in the back of his battered-feeling brain, and a laugh wracked his body. Yeah, he agreed.

"It's done!" he heard someone cry, and hands slapped down on his back, steadying his faltering heartbeat, easing his clenched lungs. Two more hands lifted his shoulders up and another set traced lightly over his chest, down his arms, pressing sharply here and there. He could feel that easing the tremble of his overextended chakra and opened his eyes wearily to smile at Hinata. She smiled back, tremulous though her hands were steady.

"...absolute idiot," the medic behind him was saying through his teeth. "Miraculous fucking moron, I can't believe you did that, what kind of absolute brainless wonder..."

Naruto sat up mostly under his own power as his chakra and the fox's settled slowly back into balance. "I'm okay," he said, breathless.

"You are insane," the medic snapped, and Naruto craned his head around to see that it was the blue-haired senior medic from Mist. "And the Hokage is insane too, to teach you something that dangerous!" He sat back on his heels with a long sigh, finally lifting his hands from Naruto's back. "But you do seem to be recovering; that's some amazing vitality you have. If we get our beasts back, perhaps I'll suggest to the Mizukage that we should train one as a medic." He scooted around Naruto and checked Jiraiya. "He'll be all right too, I think."

Jiraiya stirred and Sasuke's hands, which Naruto finally recognized as the ones holding him upright, tightened hard on his shoulders. Sasuke was looking down at his teacher with fear lurking at the back of his eyes. Jiraiya coughed painfully and pried his eyes open to squint up at them. "Need a drink," he husked.

Sasuke inhaled alarmingly and Naruto ducked on reflex. "Shut up you absolute idiot!" Sasuke's voice echoed off the buildings. "You nearly died! Stay where you are and recover like you have more than two brain cells under all that hair!"

Naruto grinned down at Jiraiya as the man's eyes started to dance, sunken as they were. "What, don't I even get a pretty nurse?" Jiraiya asked in a pitiful tone, only slightly marred by the lingering hitch in his breathing.

"No," Sasuke said, very definitely.

Naruto was snickering and the Mist medic was rolling his eyes and Hinata was edging away cautiously when the second in command for Sound came skidding around the corner. "Darui sent me back. Where's the casualty?" she barked.

"Karin-san." The Mist-nin brightened. "Perfect." He waved a hand at Jiraiya. "The Commander needs to be on his feet again, and he's still missing a lot of blood and all his stamina. Can you do it?"

Karin snorted, throwing back one of her loose sleeves as she strode to Jiraiya's side. "Of course I can. Out of the way, you." She hip-checked Naruto aside and held out her bared arm to Jiraiya while Naruto sputtered. "Bite me," she ordered brusquely.

Jiraiya blinked. "This is a bit sudden, isn't it? No dinner first, no drinks even?"

Karin turned nearly the color of her own hair. "Shut up and bite me, you old pervert," she yelled, "before I smack you into next week!"

The Mist medic drew the rest of them back, around the corner into the overgrown stone plaza between buildings. "Karin-san can heal very bad injuries very quickly, this way," he murmured. "Best to let her get on with it."

Naruto snickered. She did seem to have the right bedside manner for someone dealing with the ero-sennin. "Okay, so..." he looked around, wobbling only slightly. "Hey, wait, where'd Darui-san go?"

"He left about the time your tails caught fire," Sakura said dryly. "He said he'd try to decoy Akatsuki long enough for you to come out of it. He didn't seem too happy at the time."

"I did warn him what I was doing," Naruto mumbled.

"No, you really didn't. But that's okay." She gave him a beady eye. "It is okay, right? You're recovered? You're not holding out on the team strategist or anything?"

Naruto held up his hands hastily. "I promise not! It's gonna hurt if I have to shape too much chakra soon, but Hinata and, um," he stopped and looked at the Mist-nin guiltily.

"Maeda Kazuki," the man supplied, mouth quirked.

"Hinata and Maeda-san got me stable and all," Naruto finished. "So as soon as Jiraiya-san is better, we can go find these Akatsuki guys and kick ass."

"No need to find us," a hoarse, quiet voice said from above them, and Naruto spun around, heart tripping, to see a man in one of those damn red cloud robes standing on top of the command building and looking down at them.

Or rather... at him.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Fifteen

Naruto and his yearmates face Nagato, who seems unbeatable until Naruto negotiates again with the Nine-tails and releases part of his seal. Drama, Action, I-4

Naruto stared up at the man from Akatsuki, frozen even as Sasuke and Sakura flickered to stand in front of him and Hinata snapped her hands together at his side, Byakugan live again. The man had... really strange eyes. Purple, like Naruto had never seen before and ringed. Stop looking, he told himself, it has to be a bloodline talent, he might be able to do something to you, stop looking. But at the same time he didn't want to take his eyes off that creepily intense stare for even a second.

"So you would be the Sacrifice of Konoha," the man said, finally, and that shook Naruto out of his stillness.

"I'm not anyone's sacrifice," he scowled.

The man blinked slowly. "Of course you are. Sacrificed the day you were born, according to our members from Konoha."

"Fuck that," Naruto said, blunt and rude. If this guy was trying to hypnotize him or something, it wasn't working! "Somebody else made that choice, yeah, but the ones since then are my own!"

"Whatever peace you may have made with your beast does not change the actions of your village," the man said in a weirdly classroom-lecture kind of tone. "They sacrificed a newborn to make a weapon of the land's spirit and further sacrificed your life every day after that to their own fears. Is that not so?"

Sakura's lip curled and she slid her hands into the first seal of her release. Lightning chakra was starting to gather around Sasuke's fingers as he glared over them. Maeda-san had melted back around the corner of the building toward Jiraiya, mouth tight, eyes burning. Shadows were starting to rustle and flicker around the edges of the plaza as people fought through whatever the hell was out in the woods to reach him, and Hinata was whispering the tally of names beside him.

"Kiba and Shino. Baki of the Sand. Choujuurou and Suigetsu of the Mist. Shikamaru, Chouji, Ino and her team. Kitsuchi of the Rock and three of his people. Iruka-sensei..."

Naruto took a long breath and looked up at the Akatsuki guy with a grin. "No," he told him. "You're totally wrong." He spread his arms out, as if to take in the whole island and all the ninja on it. "Yeah, it sucked for a while. But they got over it, and I got over it, and there are a lot of important people to me in the village, now. And, um." He let his arms drop, face getting a little hot as he glanced around at the growing rustles and emerging shinobi. "I guess I'm kind of important to them, too. So it's good."

Iruka-san landed off to his side, face grimmer than Naruto had ever seen it, glare fixed on the Akatsuki guy. Naruto could hear Kiba's growl at his back. Ino glanced at him and rolled her eyes but she was smiling. Chouji nodded without looking away from their opponent, one hand resting on Shikamaru's shoulder. Sasuke and Sakura edged a little tighter in front of him, and Naruto sure wouldn't have wanted to be the target of the looks they were giving their enemy. The fox sniffed in the back of his mind, and Naruto thought Nine-tails was amused, probably by how warm and fluffy the whole thing made him feel, Akatsuki or no Akatsuki. He flushed deeper and stuck out his tongue at the fox, in his head, and got only a brush of a laugh in return. The fox seemed strangely mellow considering who they were facing, and he reminded himself to ask why when they had time.

The man sighed. "And in your comfort you become the willing tool of your village and its wars. I suppose that's only to be expected." Those strange eyes fixed on Naruto again. "Perhaps, then, it will comfort you that your last sacrifice will serve to bring peace to your village."

"What do you mean?" Sakura snapped.

The man might have shrugged under his robe, careless of the cordon of shinobi surrounding them and him. "Once the nine tailed beasts are gathered into a single container, and its power is demonstrated to every village, there will be no more wars."

Silence slammed down over the plaza. Every face Naruto could see was horrified, and the fox's sudden growl was resonating down his spine to set his tails lashing.

"Nagato," Jiraiya rasped from behind Naruto, "that won't be a real peace."

Naruto whipped a look over his shoulder to see Jiraiya coming slowly around the corner of the broken building, leaning heavily on Kakashi-sensei's shoulder.

"It will be the most real peace there is," the man—Nagato?—returned coolly. "An unbreakable one."

"Only until people start fighting for possession of the beasts!" Jiraiya paused for a moment to catch his breath. "And didn't you once believe that people must understand pain before they will genuinely seek peace and value it? People have to find that for themselves!" Another pause to breathe, and Jiraiya finished, sadly, "You can't just order peace and have it stick."

Nagato nodded calmly. "Indeed. This is a world of suffering. Pain leads to hatred and revenge, which only gives more pain. This is the nature of life, of humans, and it can only be stopped by force." He smiled, faint and unnerving. "I will show the people what true pain is, and they will be unable to turn it toward revenge. Because that pain will be inflicted by a god. This is the only thing that can break the cycle and lead people to transcend the nature of the world."

This guy was starting to remind Naruto of Itachi, and the creepy way he kept saying obviously crazy things in a totally normal way. Maybe all of Akatsuki was crazy.

"Nagato," Jiraiya whispered, brows drawn in tight and pained, "what happened to you?"

"When Yahiko was killed by treachery, my eyes were opened to the nature of life." Nagato cocked his head. "You were the one who first told us to search for peace. My answer will bring peace. Do you have any other way that will?"

"I..." Jiraiya's jaw clenched and Nagato nodded.

"Of course not. This is the only way."

"No it's not!" Naruto burst out indignantly. "Hey, hey, wait a minute! You mean you used to know the ero-sennin?" Naruto's tails lashed again, furious with his growing understanding. "You killed him! How could you do that? How could you do this?" Jiraiya had taught both Naruto and Sasuke, for crying out loud, he was amazing and he'd never have taught anyone to think like this!

"I freed him," Nagato said, like that made any kind of sense. "My last act of respect. Release from this world is the greatest mercy, and those who die to show their people pain will be the most blessed."

"The hell you say!" Naruto was nearly sputtering, his training piping up to join in the general outrage. "You don't just up and kill someone who can still live! That's for—" he broke off abruptly and swallowed. "That's for when the pain is too much," he finished, husky. "You... what are you thinking?" Did this guy... did he honestly think the whole world was in that kind of pain? That the whole world needed a mercy killing? That was crazy, it wasn't peace he was talking about here it was... was... something Naruto didn't even have words for.

Nagato looked completely serene. "Ah. You do understand, then."

Naruto shuddered, and backed up a step, eyes wide. "No."

He heard Jiraiya draw in a slow breath, behind him, and when the old man spoke his voice rang over the plaza, rough but clear. "Shinobi of this mission. You will stop Nagato of Akatsuki by whatever means are necessary. For this mission and for our world." Another breath. "Nagato holds the Rinnengan bloodline talent, and can summon animals and demons, consume chakra attacks, use gravity to attack and defend, and fight with individual strength beyond anything you've ever seen. Kitsuchi-san, Sakura, Shikamaru, Choujuurou-kun! Coordinate attacks!"

Naruto saw a flash of rage on Nagato's face before he was leaping aside from Kitsuchi's fist, now sheathed in rock. "Use the time," Kitsuchi barked and struck again, only to be met hand to hand and blocked this time, without even a tremble of Nagato's wiry arms. Sakura hissed.

"Only chakra attacks would be strong enough to get through, but that must give him what he needs to keep this strength up," she muttered. "Damn it!"

Suigetsu had joined Kitsuchi, sharp teeth bared as he and the massive length of his sword whirled and struck, again and again.

"The Rinnengan takes a huge amount of chakra," Jiraiya rasped, and Naruto looked back to see Kakashi-sensei lean him against the wall and prepare to join in himself. "If we can wear him out..."

Sakura's eyes flicked around, tallying up their force and she bit her lip. "We don't have enough people strong in taijutsu... can we afford to call in any more from the forest and protecting B-san?"

"Not really," Kakashi-sensei supplied dryly. "B's dealing with the other Akatsuki, and the island is crawling with small demons and giant animals."

One of Ino's intelligence team popped up beside them, saluting. "Shikamaru says to overload Nagato, and that he will hold him still for it."

Sakura's eyes lit, and she looked at Kakashi-sensei. "If we pour in more chakra than he can take, and he can't do anything with it... It's like my seal! He'll have to use his own chakra to convert and manage it, and if he can't use the influx right away to attack, we might burn him out!"

"It's our best chance," Kakashi-sensei agreed and slapped the messenger on the shoulder. "Get to the other two teams and tell them to prepare a chakra assault on Nagato as soon as he's nailed down. But keep one person back in each group, to attack after." As the man flickered off, Kakashi lifted his forehead protector, both eyes fixed on Nagato as his fingers drifted over the scrolls in his vest.

"I can see his rate of chakra consumption," Hinata reported, her eyes fixed on their opponent also. "I think I can tell you when he overloads."

"That will help," Sakura murmured, flexing her hands. "Say it loud, when he does, so those of us who have to close for this can hear you."

Hinata nodded sharp and sure, and Naruto set his feet, feeling for his own chakra reserves. He wasn't exactly recovered yet, and this really would hurt, but he could definitely get in at least one Rasenshuriken.

Sasuke was watching Shikamaru sliding through the rubble, angling to connect his shadow, both of them poised and taut.

Nagato finally threw Suigetsu away with an upraised hand, and the line of his sword cast a black bar of shadow on the ground, and for one moment it bridged between Shikamaru and Nagato. Lightning sprang up in Sasuke's hand.

"Now!" Chouji bellowed. "Fall back!"

Kitsuchi sprang away and Nagato, after one frozen moment, looked down and smiled. Slowly, slowly, he started to pull his feet free of Shikamaru's shadow. Sasuke threw a flight of Chidori Senbon at Nagato, who only laughed. The needles struck and sank into him without a trace.

"Chakra increasing," Hinata reported tightly.

As if Sasuke's attack had been an agreed-on signal, chakra attacks struck from all sides. Choujuurou's sword blazed as he swung a huge hammer shape down. The knives of the Lightning Dragon sank into Nagato's chest and legs, and Sasuke sent lightning raging down the wires. Sakura flickered forward faster than thought and slapped her hands against Nagato's back, pouring unformed chakra through her seal and into him. Fire, Water, Earth, Ice, forms Naruto had never seen struck from every side. Naruto whipped his tails forward to shape Wind into a throwing knife that felt like it was cutting him from the inside as he dragged the chakra up, and hurled it with a yell.

Shikamaru's shoulders were heaving with every breath, and he was curled down almost to his knees and elbows, but his hands were locked in the seal of his technique and his eyes were blazing over bared teeth.

"Still going. Still going," Hinata called out, almost chanting as the storm of chakra whirled around Nagato, sucked into him. "Elasticity declining! Threshold! Threshold approaching!" Her eyes widened, and she suddenly screamed, "Scatter!"

Everyone sprang back and and hit the ground, and Naruto spun toward Jiraiya only to feel his knees start to buckle. He only had time to pull in a desperate breath of protest before someone caught him around the middle and he was back against the wall next to Jiraiya with Hinata, Kakashi, Sasuke, and Sakura. And... there was another wall on the other side. He puzzled over that for a dizzy moment before he was set down and realized that Kitsuchi had carried him back and was sheltering them.

An explosion rolled over and above them and silence followed it.

Kitsuchi-san and Kakashi-sensei exchanged a frown, and Kitsuchi lowered the stone wall with a gesture.

Nagato stood in the middle of a plaza scoured and cracked, swaying a little on his feet and smoking. He wasn't smiling any longer, but his eyes were as fixed and crazed as ever. Shikamaru was sprawled in Chouji's grasp, where it looked like he'd been thrown, unconscious. Chouji looked up as they emerged and nodded once. Naruto relaxed things he hadn't known were tense. Shikamaru was okay; good. Slowly, the other shinobi of the mission stood up from cover, on their own or over the shoulder of a comrade.

"Do you think you still have the strength to face me after that?" Nagato snarled. "Ha. And for what? Your mission? Your villages? Those who are important to you?" He drew himself up, and something Naruto couldn't name shifted around him. "None of you have known enough pain to understand!"

"His body," Hinata said sharply, "his muscles and bones! They're... sheathed in his chakra!"

"The Asura path," Jiraiya said, eyes dark. "His strongest hand to hand technique. At least we seem to have disrupted his control of the outwardly directed techniques, the summoning and gravitational ones. I hope." He straightened and called out. "Reserve, attack!"

Kakashi's scrolls snapped open and his pack of nin-dogs leaped to harry Nagato, to slow and distract him as Kakashi sprinted to drive a Chidori into his gut and sprang back. He was almost too late, and Nagato's elbow strike caught his shoulder, throwing him nearly back to where Jiraiya stood.

As he was thrown back Ino's team struck as one under her snapped orders, weaving a shifting circle of steel and elements around Nagato, dashing in again and again at any opening to slash with a knife or tear with an ink creature's jaws or scorch with fire. Those attacks didn't seem to penetrate very deeply, though, and Ino's mouth was tight as she caught Kitsuchi-san's eye. Her team made way for his rock punch, feinting a pincer from the sides to distract Nagato.

Naruto hoped when he saw Kitsuchi's fist hit Nagato's spine, even though it made him sick to his stomach to hope for an injury like that, like the one he'd just finished healing at such cost. But even though Nagato cried out and stumbled, he was still standing, still moving, and he took Chouji's huge fist on his crossed arms and threw him back.

Choujuurou and Suigetsu struck together, catching Nagato in between the sweep of their monstrous swords, or they would have if he hadn't dodged out from between them faster than Naruto's eye could follow.

"He's still too strong," Kakashi-sensei murmured, kneeling beside Jiraiya, preparing for another try. "We can't fit enough people in close enough to land a clean strike."

That made sense, even to Naruto's weary mind. Piling on wouldn't do any good if no one had room to swing a fist and they didn't have any one or even two people strong enough to match Nagato. Not even him, not right now. If B were here, maybe he could get the Eight-tails to do it, but...

Quiet fell inside Naruto. If the Eight-tails could do it, maybe the Nine-tails could.

"So," the fox rumbled. "You have a favor to ask, hm?"

Naruto took a moment to realize that he was standing in front of the Nine-tails' gate. He looked up at the huge red eyes glaring down at him and said, simply and quietly, "Yes."

The fox sniffed. "And just how do you think that's going to work?"

Naruto leaned against the wall with a tired splash of the cold water underfoot. "I don't know. I've tried everything I can think of and none of it has worked." He crossed his arms and bit his lip, trying to think. He was so tired. Finally he looked back up at the fox and asked hopefully, "I don't suppose you'd tell me?"

"Hm." The fox looked down his very long nose at him for a moment.

"I mean," Naruto rambled on, "we have to stop him, right? We can't let him take you. And we sure can't let him kill the world!"

"Is that what he's going to do?" the fox asked thoughtfully.

"He calls it peace." Naruto snorted. "But then he turns around and talks about showing people more pain! And then about how the only escape is dying!" Naruto shook his head, slumping down against the wall. "He hurts. He wants to stop hurting. I've seen that so often, now. And sometimes, yeah, there's too much damage and the right thing to do is let someone go fast. We're taught how to do that. But this...!" He met the Nine-tails' eyes, the steady burning of them. "It's like what he really wants is to make the whole world hurt like he is. And part of him thinks that will make everyone stop doing bad things. But another part knows that will just make everyone want to die as much as he does. And then he can let them and that will be the right thing to do. But he only gets to it by doing everything wrong first!"

"Hmph. You have some wisdom after all, kit. I'd wondered."

Naruto glowered; that sounded like an insult. "This is like... it's like a normal thing that can be good has gotten totally out of control." He hesitated, because that was like something else, too. "Tsunade-baachan... she's never let me work on anyone with cancer. She said that the chakra I had from you might make it worse." He glanced at the fox under his lashes. Did that mean using the Nine-tails' power could make Nagato worse, too?

The fox reared up, snarling. "Well of course it would! That blond bastard sealed my yin chakra! With nothing but yang chakra to use, you can't undo a cancer; you'd have to burn it out to the last speck or else you'd just have it back twice as fast." Slowly, he settled back and added, "So you want to heal this cancer, do you?"

Naruto opened his mouth and closed it again, eyes wide. "Oh. I, um. I guess I do, yeah." He hadn't quite put it together himself, but now that the fox had he thought it was true.

The fox rolled his eyes and tilted his ears back. "Idiot kit."

Naruto shuffled on the water. "Well, he's hurt! I mean, that's obvious. We have to stop him, but..."

"But they made you into a healer." The fox looked dubious, one ear tilted back. "Which is what caused you to very nearly kill yourself just now. Are you sure you're so eager to do it again?"

"Why should it kill me?" Naruto asked cautiously. "I mean, it doesn't kill B."

The fox looked down at him for a long moment. "You have something that B doesn't. You'll need to give it up, for this to work."

Naruto blinked a few times, trying to shake his brain into making sense of that, and finally resorted to a plaintive, "Huh?"

The fox looked pointedly at the gate. "And what do you see here?"

Naruto stared at the gate. The gate itself? Or...

The seal.

"I have to undo the seal?" he squeaked. "Wait, wait, but...!"

The fox made a deeply exasperated sound, reminding Naruto all over again of Sasuke, and snapped, "Not the whole thing, but this half!"

"Half?" Naruto frowned at the paper seal.

"You have two of those on you, idiot kit," the fox growled. "The first you can't undo without killing yourself, most likely, but this one you can. And must if you want me to emerge." He glared off to the side with both ears laid back and his teeth a little bared. "That's how it was made. So I couldn't take you over when you were still a baby. Making the second layer internal instead of woven into the surface seal makes it possible to undo that one. It leaves the choice up to you. You've already changed it a little, but for me to manifest? You have to undo it."

A whirl of thoughts spun through Naruto's head, wondering if his father had hoped he and the fox would trust each other eventually, wondering if it was just a fluke, wondering again why this had been done to him as a baby instead of to someone who could volunteer. The one that made it to his mouth, though, was, "So... are you saying undoing the seal will kill me?"

"It's a powerful seal." The fox still wasn't looking at him. "And you won't be able to use any of my strength to undo it. If, that is, you choose to do so."

Slowly, it came to Naruto that the fox was pissed off. Really pissed off. Not in the howling-growling way he usually was, but quietly. Because of the seal. He couldn't be angry that Naruto was thinking of breaking it, could he? Or maybe...

Maybe because it was Naruto's choice.

Naruto looked down at the surface of the water he stood on, frowning. The fox, he slowly realized, hadn't had any more choice about this than he had. Every second of resentment or anger he'd felt, the fox must have felt too. Worse, probably. And three times over, now.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, softly. "I mean, not personally exactly, it's not like I volunteered for this either, but..." He looked up, and the Nine-tails was finally looking back at him again through the bars. "I'm sorry this happened to you at all." He came forward hesitantly and laid a hand against the gate. "I guess it was selfish of people, to lock you up just so you'll be their weapon or threat or something. That's wrong."

The fox stared at him silently for several breaths before he lifted his head and shook it until his ears flapped. "It wasn't without precedent, in a way," he admitted. "Spirits have sometimes agreed to be embodied in humans, because even as it lends you our strength it lends us your thoughts and understanding. But that was an agreement between one human and one spirit."

Naruto thought about that. "So... can we have one? Between us?"

"If you dare to release the seal," the fox said, deep voice rumbling through the whole inner space, "then we will live together. As long as you live."

That wasn't exactly a yes or no, but Naruto was getting kind of used to that from the fox. Nine-tails didn't say the important things right out; you had to think about it and probably guess a little.

And... trust.

Naruto took a deep breath. Hell, it had worked with Sasuke, hadn't it? And he needed the fox. And the fox needed this, for things to be set right even a little. He still hesitated as he reached for the seal. It might kill him, the fox said. Which the fox might not mind, he'd be free after all. But Sakura and Sasuke... Iruka-san and Kakashi-sensei... his yearmates, Tsunade and Jiraiya, the village... Naruto bit his lip hard, wavering, trying to figure out what he should do, what he should risk, what was the right thing to do here and now. The fox watched silently.

It's a choice that comes to very powerful healers in time of war, all too often.

It was Chiyo-san's voice that whispered through his memory, and Naruto's eyes widened. He'd made that choice for Jiraiya, but that had been easy. That had been to save someone he loved. To make the same choice now, he would have to make it... because it was right. Because the duty and ethics his teacher had given him told him this was what he needed to do. "And they do," he whispered, looking up into the Nine-tails' eyes and all the rage and yearning locked behind them. "I have to heal you, too."

The eternal burn of rage died in a moment of utterly blank shock, and the fox stared at him with, Naruto would swear, absolute disbelief. That made him smile. This was right. It felt right. This was what he should do.

No matter what happened.

He smiled up at the fox and reached up and tore the paper seal off the gates.

Light and sound exploded around him. All he could see was the paper, and it was clinging to the gate stubbornly. He gritted his teeth and pulled harder. Harder. His muscles felt like they might give way first, but he braced himself and pulled harder, growling. Come loose, damn it! he thought fiercely at the bit of paper. I don't want you here, come loose!

One of the lines of inked characters started to unravel like thread.

Spurred on, Naruto pulled harder, jaw clenched, whole body screaming with the ache of the seal's resistance. Line by line, bit by bit, it came part, and he kept pulling even as his vision went cloudy and red. The only thing left was his determination to do this thing, to Lift. This. Damn. Seal!

And it came away in his hand.

Naruto thought he was falling, but he couldn't tell. Couldn't see. Wasn't sure he could breathe. Everything was red, and his ears were ringing.

No, wait. That was a howl.

Slowly vision crept back, but it was a strange kind of vision. He saw scenes, like pictures projected here and there around him. He saw the plaza from above. He saw Jiraiya slumped against the broken wall below, staring up at him. He saw Sasuke, eyes red with the Sharingan, and felt a sudden spike of wary annoyance.

Oh. It was the fox.

He was the fox. He remembered, distantly, that he'd intended that. Well good, then.

He saw Nagato and was aware of the Nine-tails pouncing. He didn't exactly feel it, not like it was his body. But he knew it was happening.

This was really weird.

He also knew that huge, clawed feet were being set down with at least a little care not to step on the scattering shinobi, so that was okay. Actually, wait, maybe he did feel something. Several somethings that were... waving. Lashing.

He could feel the damn tails.

I told you to have a little respect, the fox growled, and at least that sounded like normal.

Well they feel weird, Naruto defended himself, and then winced. Now he could feel his body, at least his head. Or... maybe the spirit of his head. Whatever it was, it hurt.

Shut up and rest, kit, the fox told him, for once sounding something besides annoyed. Not much besides, but a little. There's work to be done. My work.

There was a reason that should alarm him, Naruto thought, but he couldn't remember what it was. Something about what the fox's work was. His purpose. To... to cleanse rot, he'd said.

To destroy corruption.

Destroy... but that wasn't...!

Naruto tried to sit up or stand up or something, tried to see and hear, tried to reach out and find the fox again in this strange, formless darkness around him. And what he saw was a ball of seething power blasting away from him, from them, and smashing into Nagato.

No!

He heard the fox sniff, disgusted. Yes, yes, I heard you the first time. You want to heal. You want to heal everything. Your perverted teacher, this Akatsuki cancer, me, who knows what all else. The knowledge of a shrug. You made a deal with me, when you released the seal, and I hold by my word. He's still alive. Mostly. We'll see what you make of him. The knowledge of a smile, full of huge teeth, still just a little malicious, and a moment of sight, of Iruka-san, pale and tense, looking up at him, mouth shaping Naruto's name. Once you wake up.

The world turned inside out again, and Naruto's senses rushed back, every one of them screaming with pain that clubbed him right back into darkness as he collapsed into Iruka-san's arms.

A/N: I never thought much of Nagato's six-corpse stable, and the emaciation that resulted struck me as just another way to bid for our sympathy with a mass murderer. I find it much more interesting to let Nagato use all his paths in his own body, and confront other combatants instead of dropping the chakra-Bomb on a village full of civilians—and then going back on it in the most contrived deus ex machina imaginable. I prefer to let him get his ass righteously kicked and his eyes thereby opened in proper shounen tradition.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Twenty

Madara attacks Konoha with the aid of Zetsu and Danzou. Foxes, demons, dragons, tailed beasts, generations old grudge matches, and other kinds of hell break loose. Action, Drama, I-4

Alarms were ringing through Konoha's night, hurrying the civilians to the shelters, raising the lights in the village center, calling the close patrols in to defend their homes. Shinobi of the village ran to guard the wall and ranged through the training grounds beyond, searching for the attackers.

"Where the hell are they?" Naruto demanded tightly, crouched on the wall over the east gate, glaring out into the night.

"I think the question is what are they," Sakura said quietly, standing against Sasuke's back to guard him as he swept the Sharingan over their assigned sector.

"Not here yet, apparently," Sasuke answered, though he didn't stop looking for a moment. "The trees and earth seem empty. Do we know, yet, if they can camouflage themselves at all?"

"Unknown," Aburame Muta reported after a moment, from below the lip of the wall where he waited and listened to his bugs. "No one reports it so far."

"Injured coming in," Sasuke said, voice flat. Naruto hissed through his teeth. This was the third injured party and they still hadn't been able to kill whatever was out there.

He dropped down inside the wall to his medical station to meet the two stretchers, hands moving fast as he cut away cloth and sutured deep cuts like claw rakes. That was the easy part, though. Most of the injuries he'd seen tonight were broken bones and crushed organs from where people had been punched or hurled into trees.

Or by trees. The reports were a little fuzzy on that.

Naruto held his hands over the side of the worst-hit one where ribs had shattered and a kidney was ruptured, and fought one more time to control the wild rush of the fox's chakra through his own. It was exhilarating; he wanted to lose himself in it, and that was the hardest part. He had to concentrate, had to keep his mind on the mirror between his body, his chakra, and his patient's.

You do seem to match me well in this, Nine-tails observed, and Naruto had the impression of an ear cocked at him curiously. Unusually so.

Sakura says that's what Leaf's seal is made to do, Naruto answered, leaning against his table and panting as he waved to two of the inner line to come take his patients to a recovery station until they woke up. To shape your host a little, with the chakra that seeps through. I guess it took really well on me, because it was done so young.

Perhaps it was not entirely a bad thing then, the fox murmured, and Naruto wanted to take the time to tease him, to be loudly shocked by the admission, but he didn't have time right now. He shook his head sharply, trying to throw off the floaty glow that healing left these days, and sprang back up to the wall. Can't you see where these guys are? I mean, you're a spirit of the land and they're moving through earth and trees!

And they appear to belong there, the fox answered dryly. There is corruption on the night's wind, yes. But not from these attackers.

Naruto growled in frustration as he landed beside Sasuke again and got a raised eyebrow. "Nine-tails can't feel them," he answered it. "He says it's like they really are wood and earth or something."

"Some kind of summons?" Sakura wondered. "Or even a jutsu, like the Shadow Clones, only with an elemental chakra?"

"Or a bloodline limit," Sasuke suggested. "But I don't think that matters as much as the fact that the Sharingan and Byakugan can still see them!" On those last words, he launched a flight of Chidori Senbon, catching the arm of a figure emerging into the shadow of a tree. It vanished back into wood at once, but left blood on the ground as it did.

"Team at the east gate has marked one of the white ones," Sakura relayed to Muta. "Left arm is injured." She frowned and added, "And this doesn't make sense. They're injuring us more than we are them, but mostly because it's night. As soon as there's more light we'll have the advantage, and however many there are, they aren't attacking strongly enough to finish us off by dawn. Not by a long shot. They've got to be softening us up for something else. Muta-san, ask that a warning be relayed, please. Everyone needs to keep an eye out for whatever the real attack is."

Tsunade's mouth quirked. "How many was that?"

"Four, more or less at the same time," Aburame Katou murmured, looking just a little amused himself, even behind his high collar. "Haruno, Nara Shikamaru, ANBU's Deer, and Nara Shikaku."

Tsunade scowled. "Shikaku put himself on the wall, didn't he? No, don't answer that. I suppose I knew he would."

Katou coughed delicately. "He, ah, also requested that we relay his observation that you are on the wall as well, Hokage-sama."

"The Hokage isn't chosen from among the strongest so she can always lead from the rear," Tsunade said with dignity, glancing only a little guiltily down at the tall main gate below them. "In any case, yes, relay the warning to be on guard for a second attack. I wish Jiraiya hadn't taken a wide patrol this week," she added quietly.

"I imagine the attack came now because he's gone," Kakashi murmured, watching the trees with his Sharingan uncovered beside her. He winced just a little at the creaking explosion of wood to the west of them. "Short of the Swordsmen being gone, Madara probably thought this was his best opportunity to see the village weakened at all."

Tsunade grinned with rather more appreciation at those sounds of enthusiastic destruction, remembering a few bars and other landscape she'd busted up in her time. "They are energetic, aren't they? I like that in a ninja. Maybe I won't give them back to Terumii." Her designated successor gave her a rather dour look, and she laughed, patting his shoulder. It was good for him to be on the receiving end of teasing, she thought; it seemed to have been far too long since he last had been.

In fact, the more deeply she dug into Kakashi's background, the more guilty she felt about choosing him. He was undeniably the right choice, by every measure of strength, of responsibility, of care for the village. But he had far less of a support network than he was going to need when he became Hokage. She'd been thinking about how to alleviate that, but it would be a slow process.

She was turning over the other jounin in Kakashi's age range in her mind when she felt the faint stickiness of her train of thought. The stubborn clinging to a topic that wasn't the one she should be concentrating on right now. Her breath hissed in and her hands flashed out to touch Kakashi and Katou as she surged her chakra, spilling it through them too. "Kai!"

There was a shadow in the trees across the cleared zone from the gate and a kunai singing toward her, trailing a seal behind it. She caught the knife between two fingers and shaped her chakra to lightning to char the seal. "Subtle," she observed, clearly enough to be heard in the trees. Behind her, the subliminal hum of Katou's insects rose a notch, no doubt relaying word that the second attack had appeared.

"Clearly an approach that's wasted on you," answered the shadow, an old voice but still a strong one. And edged with contempt. Even without the flash of red eyes, that would have told her who this must be.

"Madara."

The old man—who should be dead damn it—strolled along a branch into the wash of light from the walls. The red-cloud robes of Akatsuki were abandoned. He wore a short, indigo robe now, and a battle fan she remembered from the picture her grandfather had kept until his death. He was smiling. "It will be satisfying, after all this time, to watch the last of Hashirama's line die. All of you have been far too wood-headed to appreciate subtlety. The village deserved better."

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimmer of light down wire and found herself abruptly in the heart of a dome of seals. All in a breath, a cyclone howled down around her, edged with knives of flame, deadly force pouring through the seals and darting for her in a hundred strikes, poised to tear aside her defenses.

Tsunade smiled.

Lines of ink flared up under and around her feet as she stood where she was, and twisting streams of force rose to wrap her in the second stage of the Sun on the Ocean seal. When the clap and thunder of chakra faded, she stood untouched and Kakashi was looking up from where he knelt behind her, hand pressed to the seal's activation point.

"I appreciate subtlety just fine." She held Madara's eyes, level and challenging, daring him to try an illusion technique on an alert medic of her caliber. "I'm afraid you're just not very good at it."

His smile twisted. "Shimura-kun," he ordered softly.

Danzou emerged onto the branch behind him, and as much as she hated the man it was still a blow to see him standing calmly there beside Konoha's attacker. Exactly as Madara had meant it to be. She locked down her reaction fiercely. Behind her she heard the soft hiss of Kakashi's breath.

"A preset trap only works once." Danzou nodded to them, casually. "But so does a preset defense. Let us test your expertise." His hand flickered and three kunai with seal tags slammed into the top of the wall in a triangle around Kakashi, and Danzou raised two fingers in the activation seal.

As tearing vacuum wrapped around Kakashi, Tsunade kept her eyes locked on Madara, watching for an opening, and prayed that Kakashi's rage at Danzou would strengthen and not weaken him tonight.

Sai slipped down from the roofs and landed lightly in front of Cat, their current Commander. "No sign of the intruders in the inner village on my sweep," he reported.

"Strange that they're refraining from that," Cat murmured. "The black one that goes through earth could reach the civilian shelters; it would be a far more efficient strike than all this." He flicked disdainful fingers at the faint commotion beyond the walls they could hear even in the administrative quarter. "All right. Grab another route."

Sai nodded and picked another paper slip out of the bag tacked to the mission board with a kunai. It might not be the most sophisticated way to randomize their patrols, he thought with that new mental lilt that sounded just a little like Kakashi-senpai in his head, but it was fast, portable, and unbreakable and ANBU knew the value of that. "Section six, outer ring," he read off the slip and looked over at Torune. "Tracker bug still good?"

"Good for two more sweeps," Torune agreed, perfectly calm even though Sai knew it probably frustrated him to be relegated to communications during an attack like this. He approved. All of Root was held back from the most critical work right now, but that was no excuse for losing discipline. Which was, after all, why Fuu was confined completely at this moment and likely several times as frustrated as any other member.

And then Torune stiffened. "Second attack at the south gate," he said, voice sharpening. "Targeting the Hokage and Kakashi. It's Madara." He cut off abruptly for a moment, and Sai saw him swallow and breathe in slowly. "And Danzou with him."

Mission awareness spiked in Sai's senses, sharpening them, crystallizing the night around him. "Are all of Root accounted for?" The question whipped out before it was even complete in his mind.

Torune's mouth tightened faintly as he listened to his network of insects. "Fuu. Hyou. Shin." A pause. "Kana. Terai, yes." A longer pause. "Dajimu and Tera are out of their patrol areas and near the south wall."

"General signal," Cat snapped, "all ANBU to the south gate!"

Sai was already running.

Kakashi danced with his opponent, the deadly, precise dance of the elite who were trained to silent and perfect death. ANBU's dance. He had never thought to take up these steps again, but for tonight, for this death, he would return.

This was the dance of fine techniques, of calculation and timing that slid down the edge of a knife, of silence and cunning, each move set against the shape and weight of the opponent with utmost care and blinding speed. Half the jutsu they started were never initiated, turned aside into another path as the ground between their minds shifted and shifted again.

There had been a time when Kakashi had found this exhilarating, better than any drink or drug. Tonight, it was water to a thirsty man, more necessity than pleasure but the only thing that would satisfy him nevertheless.

The Tiger's Teeth closed on nothing but the Diving Fisherbird, and in the wake of that clap of annihilation Kakashi and Danzou paused for one breath. "You've grown subtle indeed in your use of seals," Danzou observed, breathing considerably harder than he had when they'd started this Kakashi was mildly pleased to note. "But you still trust the wrong things." The twist of his fingers summoned, not only another seal from under his robe, cast straight on at Kakashi, but a flash of weapons on either side, ones Kakashi recognized—Dajimu's wire-strung kunai and Tera's darting flames. Kakashi's calculation of his possible counters sped down the lines of decision, and he bared his teeth behind his mask. He was going to get hit; Dajimu's wires could change the trajectory of his kunai too unpredictably to try to dodge when Tera's flames were waiting, shuriken buried in their hearts more often than not. And Danzou was too canny to be casting a bluff at him. That seal absolutely must be met.

He would be hit, as Danzou wished. But it wouldn't stop him. Danzou had forgotten who and what Kakashi was; Hound had been stopped by nothing when Kakashi had worn that mask. He pulled the Phoenix seal from his vest and activated it in a single motion, threw it to consume Danzou's attack, and spun into the oncoming kunai, preparing to choose which one he took as his hands flashed through the seals to shape water and counter the flames.

And then Sai was there.

It reminded Kakashi of the years he had loved this dance, the clean, perfect line of the leg sweep that brushed aside the wires and spun Sai through a complete turn to meet Tera's flames with a precise dousing seal. Sai touched down, poised, at Kakashi's feet and looked up at Danzou and his companions in Root, cool and distant. Kakashi heard others landing on the roofs inside the wall and dared a glance back, relaxing to see familiar masks and equipment. ANBU.

"Sai!" Danzou barked. Sai ignored him, not so much as an eyelash flickering in response.

"Dajimu. Tera." Sai's words dropped into the night light as leaves into a pool. "You break your oaths to think only of the good of the village."

"We aren't the oathbreakers," Tera shot back. "Danzou-sama acts for the good of the village. It's you who've lost your way, Sai."

"On the contrary," Sai answered quietly. "Hatake Kakashi will protect Konoha and all its people at any cost. He will wield ANBU correctly, when it comes into his hands." He stood, fluid, still ignoring Danzou, and stepped around to Kakashi's shoulder. "Do whatever is necessary," he said softly. "I will hold Dajimu and Tera."

Kakashi touched Sai's arm lightly as he stepped past. "I will." And he was grateful. Sai's words pulled him a little back from the edge, reminded him of what he was now as well as what he had been. The absolute ice of calculation eased a little around his heart, flowing again instead of freezing. ANBU, he was pleased to see from the corner of his eye, was deploying to cover Tsunade but leaving him room.

Danzou was scowling. "Your interference makes this less complete than it could be," he told Sai roughly. "But so be it." He pulled off his overrobe, with its woven-in wards and dozens of sequenced seals and flipped it open on the night wind, good hand flicking out to unfurl a seal scroll.

And as the robe fell to Danzou's side, covering him, he turned and cast the Lion Closing Roar straight at Madara.

Except that Madara was already gone, flickering out of the seal's center, and the sweep of his fan caught the lash of Tsunade's lightning whip even as a kick threw Danzou back against the tree trunk with bone crushing force. Kakashi could hear, in the agonized edge as Danzou coughed for breath, that ribs were probably broken.

"Shimura-kun, I was really hoping you would be more effective before it came to this," the old man sighed, strolling casually along the branches toward Danzou. "Ah, well, I suppose old age comes to us all. I'm sure you understand, though, why I can't leave you alive behind me now." He smiled down at Danzou, hanging his fan back over his shoulder with an easy swing that belied the remark about old age. "A shame that none of your erstwhile comrades will have any interest in leaving you alive at their backs either, hm?"

Sai stirred at Kakashi's side, and the hand that held his tantou was white knuckled in the lights of the village.

"Danzou-sama!" Tera lunged over the wall.

Madara turned his head and, without forming a single hand seal, blew an actinic torch of flame over him. What fell out of that fire wasn't breathing any longer. "Now then," he murmured, turning back to Danzou.

Calculations wound through Kakashi's mind, taking in the tautness of Sai beside him, the suddenly unbalanced stances of some of ANBU around them, the tightness of Tsunade's lips, so clearly torn between her own rage at what Danzou had done and her awareness of why he had done it this night. Kakashi had no doubt Danzou was a traitor, that he had truly been trying to kill both Tsunade and Kakashi. But it was ANBU watching this, and they also knew the stakes that a deep cover mission played for, knew by that last attack that Danzou hadn't completely abandoned Konoha. Death on a mission like that was also known and accepted, and Tsunade would never allow anyone to risk themselves saving Danzou now. Madara might even be distracted by killing Danzou and give them another opening to attack.

ANBU could do it. Could stand and watch and do nothing but hope for an opening. But what they were capable of wasn't always what they should be asked to do. A single conclusion locked into place, sure and solid, and Kakashi set his feet, watching Madara's chakra with his Sharingan.

He waited while Madara drew his sword, waited while it was lifted, listening to the uneasy silence around him, and as Madara committed to his downward cut, Kakashi moved.

The world telescoped as he flickered forward and he wound chakra through his feet to stop him on the branch between Madara and Danzou, around his arm to brace him against the force of Madara's cut as it rang off the steel on the back of Kakashi's raised fist.

In the shocked moment of silence that followed, he said quiet and clear, "You are not the executor of any Konoha shinobi who has not yet been declared traitor. Not any." He yanked Danzou over his shoulder by the front of his robe and leaped back for the wall, past a flight of kunai hastily thrown to cover his retreat.

And in the middle of that suspended moment when Danzou's own body was covering Kakashi's other hand from sight, he opened it and struck with the Gentle Fist, half crushing Danzou's heart.

The next moment he was past the wall and down on the first roof inside it, letting Danzou slide off his shoulder. The old man glared up at him, gasping, breath already laboring, face already gray. "Kakashi..." he rasped.

"You die as a shinobi of Konoha," Kakashi told him, cold and soft. "It's more than you deserve. But I won't have their hearts tainted by giving your life to Madara." He flicked a hand at the still figures of ANBU all around them, watching.

One of ANBU's medics flitted up to the roof with them and ran quick hands over Danzou before wincing behind his mask. "It's too much," he reported, clear enough to carry to all of them. "Tsunade-sama or Shizune-sama might be able to save him but this is beyond me."

Tsunade's jaw clenched, and she spoke without turning. "Shimura Danzou chose his actions, and I cannot endanger my village to let him avoid their consequences. Offer him mercy." Her voice was rough; no medic liked the last resort. But she was focused wholly on Madara again, unwavering, and Kakashi nodded to himself, satisfied.

"Shimura-san?" the medic asked quietly, knife in hand and glowing with the edge of his chakra.

Danzou's mouth twisted for a breath, but finally he nodded, eyes fixed on Kakashi. Kakashi watched him in return, standing straight and still, and carefully hid his rush of furious vindication as the knife went home.

A faint rustle ran through ANBU.

Cat joined them on the roof and told the medic, "Take his body back to the inner line and rejoin us as soon as you can." As the medic gathered Danzou's body up, Cat turned to meet Kakashi's eyes for a long moment. "Senpai," he said at last.

Kakashi's mouth quirked behind his mask. "Not for a long time, now."

"You have been again, tonight."

The thread of tension in Kakashi relaxed. Tenzou, at least, guessed what he had done and accepted it. "I will be what is necessary," he said quietly, the core of his service that had brought him to ANBU in the first place. Cat nodded, touching his fist to his chest in brief salute before they both turned and sprang back up to the wall. Sai met him there, turning back from handing off the securely bound bundle of Dajimu to another ANBU. He paused one moment to look up at Kakashi, dark eyes not quite as blank as usual.

After a long, still breath, Sai bowed in a formal salute.

"No need for formalities on a battlefield," Kakashi murmured, a little wry, suspecting Sai had realized too. Sai nodded and slipped around to guard Kakashi's back again.

Madara was standing with folded arms, engaged in his staring contest with Tsunade again. Kakashi watched the flare and jab of their chakra and thought Madara was still trying to lay illusion on her, even as ANBU was flickering through the trees around him, closing in. "Stubborn girl, aren't you?" Madara sighed at last, "Well, I suppose I'll need this after all."

The only seal he made was the basic activation, but Kakashi suddenly had to squint his Sharingan shut, nearly blinded by the vast upwelling of chakra that gathered in the forest behind Madara.

When it erupted upward into the shape of a nine-eyed demon, Kakashi couldn't quite manage to be surprised.

Sakura had just returned from stringing an extensive trap through the trees and Naruto was arguing with Nine-tails over why they couldn't abandon their post to go hunting the corruption he scented when Muta suddenly stiffened.

"Second attack, at the south gate, on the Hokage and Kakashi-san," he relayed. "It's Madara."

I told you so! the fox snapped, and Naruto whirled, poised to sprint and never mind the damn white and black bastards. That was his teacher over there!

Sakura snatched his arm. "Naruto, we can't abandon our position! If the first attackers get through a hole in the line here they have a clear path to the civilian shelters!"

"Perimeter to hold their positions," Muta confirmed. "ANBU is moving to support the Hokage."

The fox whined and Naruto nearly whined with him, vibrating with both their needs to go, to find Madara and destroy him.

"Naruto." Sakura slid both hands into his hair and turned his head toward her, holding his eyes. "Listen to me. Tsunade-sama isn't reckless. She has our very best going to help her, and Kakashi-sensei is there too. Right now, we're needed more here."

Naruto took a shaky breath and leaned into her, steadying himself against her presence. "Okay," he agreed, husky.

Interfering female, the fox growled, glaring in the back of his head. He kept tugging Naruto's eyes toward the south, straining to see/smell/hear/know what was happening there.

Sasuke was tense, too, jaw set even as he kept scanning their assigned area in silence.

Seconds dragged past like minutes, like hours, and Naruto waited. Jittered. Flexed his hands and tapped his toes, and briefly wished for the tails so he could lash them. Bit his lip and wondered what was happening, and fidgeted until Sasuke growled at him to cut it out before Sasuke cut something off.

When chakra/scent/light exploded at the south gate, it was so massive it was still a shock.

"Naruto?" Sasuke grabbed for him as he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees on the top of the wall. "Naruto!"

A tremor shivered the wall under them.

"Summons," Muta snapped, crouched and tense. "It's Madara's summons, at the south gate!"

My kin, the fox whispered in Naruto's head like the first whisper of a typhoon wind. He's bound my kin!

"Oh fuck," Naruto said, very low. "It's the tailed beasts!"

It only took one glance between the three of them, and they were running, racing south over the roofs of the village.

Nara Shikaku swore viciously under his breath. He'd already had to leave his old teammates at the wall and pull back to the roof of the Hokage's Residence to coordinate while his Hokage was busy fighting monsters out of history with her own two hands. Now word came in that Uzumaki had left his position and was making for the south gate too, and that this might be a very good thing.

"Pull Kawanishi's team off the inner line to replace them," he snapped, "and Endou's to replace Shikamaru's team. Tell Shikamaru to get down to the south gate and coordinate that mess as best he can. At least," he added, exasperated, "there's a chance Uzumaki will listen to him. Have the Hyuuga found the core of that damn black and white thing yet?"

"Not yet," Aburame Shibi reported calmly, head cocked just a bit as he listened to his insects.

Shikaku weighed needs in his head and blew out a breath. "Hiashi swore that some of his clan could protect themselves against Madara's insane illusions. Tell him to break some loose from the search and send them to the south gate, too. Contact Chouza and tell him to follow with any other Akimichi that can be spared to see about this summons. Ask Cat to send me back at least ten ANBU to search outside the wall for the first attackers."

And he would just have to pray, he thought, staring over the black slate tiles of the roof and toward the south, that he wasn't about to lose his Hokage. Again.

Naruto and his team cut through the commotion in the south quarter like it wasn't there, but all three of them jerked to a halt when they hit the top of the wall again.

"Oh shit," Sakura said, very quietly.

Too many things burned in Naruto's senses. The vast demon-shape with seven glaring eyes and two more closed was tearing through the ribbons of the biggest binding seal he'd ever seen with appalling ease. The vast trees of Konoha's valley bent like saplings under its feet. And in the increasing clearance, Tsunade lunged between lashes of fire, fighting hand to hand against a man in a shadowy robe with a huge fan. ANBU masks ringed them, but Tsunade and her opponent were moving too fast for anyone to intervene unless she pulled back.

"Madara," Sasuke said, low, sounding like someone had just hit him in the stomach.

Sakura caught his shoulder. "If anyone can beat him it's Tsunade-sama," she said, low. "It'll be all right."

Sasuke shook his head sharply. "I know, but... you don't know what he was! I don't know if even Tsunade can take him!"

"Trust her." Naruto wanted to say more, but the fox's attention kept dragging his eyes back to the demon. The demon who, he was starting to realize, must be holding the seven captured tailed beasts. Hosting them? Or were they bound down, the way some villages did between hosts?

Kakashi-sensei and an ANBU with a cat mask flickered up to the wall from the forest, both of them breathing hard.

"It's got their strength," the cat mask said, grim. "I can barely trip it, and I won't be able to hold it for more than an instant. We need someone to hit it right then, hard enough to stop it."

The summons was drawing on them, then. The fox snarled, and Naruto took a step forward. "We can hit it," he said quietly.

"That's what Madara is probably counting on." Kakashi looked over at them, one eye black and one red, but both hard. "It's too risky."

"But I can help Nine-tails keep him out!" Naruto argued, waving a hand sharply at the demon. "How else are we going to beat that?!"

Kakashi actually smiled, if a lot more grimly than usual. "I think the answer to that is just coming."

Shikamaru's team touched down beside them, and another Akimichi was a breath behind them. One more breath, and Hinata and Neji arrived too. Shikamaru glanced around, taking in the destruction and the litter of broken techniques. He grimaced and turned to Kakashi-sensei. "Do we know what that summons can do, yet?"

"We know it's got seven of the tailed beasts sealed inside it, and can use their power, if not their particular abilities," Kakashi said, looking out over the increasingly flattened swath of forest, fires starting here and there from Madara's deflected attacks. He nodded to the cat mask. "Cat can bind it, but only for a few seconds before it breaks free."

Shikamaru took a slow breath, in and out, eyes dark. "Chouji. Chouza-sama. Can you coordinate an attack on it at that speed?"

Chouza laid a hand on Chouji's shoulder. "We can."

Cat nodded. "Signal me when you're ready to strike, then, and I'll hold it still as well as possible."

"Go," Kakashi told them and turned to the Hyuugas as the three of them vanished over the wall. "You're here to back up Tsunade-sama." His eyes flickered toward the trees through which Tsunade and Madara were stalking each other. "I don't know, yet, what you'll be able to do; keep an eye on them."

Neji nodded silently and drew his cousin a little way down the wall, both of them watching Tsunade and Madara with Byakugan activated.

"This is the biggest clusterfuck ever," Shikamaru muttered, kneeling on the wall beside Ino, eyes flicking over the forest and their forces. "I'm just mentioning."

"Eloquent," Kakashi noted dryly. "And likely accurate."

Naruto was chewing his lip, trying to listen to the mission banter, trying not to let the fox's lengthening silence alarm him. He had such a bad feeling about this.

A red flare burst over the trees, and suddenly Chouji and Chouza were rising out of the trees, almost as tall as the demon. Lines of darkness whipped up from the ground, wrapping around the demon's legs, thickening as they went.

"Wood jutsu," Sakura said, sharp and startled.

"Induced," Kakashi answered, voice distant. "And not even Hashirama himself could have held seven of the beasts at once."

For one breath, though, it was holding, and Naruto bit down harder on his lip, hoping. Chouza charged the demon from the front, massive arms wrapping around it. "Chouji!" he thundered. Chouji was coming from behind, and even Naruto could see the perfect timing of it, the moment when Chouza braced to keep the demon from recoiling, from wasting any of Chouji's strength. The crack of Chouji's fist hitting the demon's back echoed off the wall.

For a moment, Naruto thought it might work.

In the next, though, the demon roared wordlessly and threw both the Akimichi back, snapping the wood binding like string. Sasuke cursed under his breath and Shikamaru's jaw tightened.

The fox was still silent.

You don't think anything but us can stop it, do you? Naruto asked.

I am the strongest of the tailed beasts, and there are seven of my kin locked in that thing. It wasn't an answer. Except that it was.

So we'll do this for them, Naruto promised. And for my important people, here. Okay?

The fox stirred, the sense of him uncoiling up Naruto's spine and down his fingers. Naruto reached out and touched Kakashi-sensei's arm.

"Tell Tsunade-sensei I'm sorry I couldn't get her permission first, okay?" he asked softly.

Kakashi was still for a long moment, in which Chouji, Chouza, and Cat landed back on the wall, all of them wincing and moving carefully. Kakashi finally sighed. "Try not to step on any of our people while you're out there."

"We'll follow as soon as you're done changing," Sasuke said, stepping up beside Naruto. "If the Nine-tails will accept it, I can help shield you from Madara."

The fox snarled and Naruto winced, and Sakura put her fists on her hips, glaring. "I'm very sure that such an old and experienced spirit will have at least as much sense as a yearling squirrel and will accept that assistance," she said in a dire tone.

The fox didn't quail, which was better than Naruto managed when Sakura spoke like that, but there was a sense of grudging respect from him, if not exactly agreement. "We'll try," Naruto promised.

"Sasuke, what are you going to have to do, to shield them?" Shikamaru interrupted. After a silent moment, Sasuke sighed.

"I'll have to be... with Naruto and the Nine-tails. In our minds and spirits."

"Thought so." Shikamaru was actually smiling, just a little and crookedly. "Well, we're used to that. We'll cover you." His eyes locked on Sasuke's, almost as black as his in the darkness. "So don't hold back."

Sasuke smiled back, dark and sharp. "I never hold back."

Shikamaru snorted. "Yeah, Team Overkill, that's the three of you." He beckoned Ino and Chouji closer with a tilt of his head and the three of them whispered and gestured among themselves for a minute, hands tracing sight lines and formations.

"Be careful," Kakashi told Naruto and his team, quietly. All three of them nodded, and Naruto would bet that all four of them knew how little that would probably help.

Naruto stepped to the edge of the wall in the flickering night, hearing Kakashi-sensei behind him, telling the Aburame here to call the shinobi in the south forest back behind the wall and warn everyone the Nine-tails was on their side this time. He breathed slowly, stepping 'down' in that way that took him to the place the fox lived. This time, not blinded by the pain of tearing out the inner seal, he could feel the fox rising past him, a brilliance of fire and wind and the power of mountains, and he leaped out from the wall, arms spread like he could embrace the night itself. As the fox rose over him he felt like maybe Nine-tails was doing just that. The fox's chakra swept through him, around him, merciless and wild, and now it was the fox's head lifted in the wind, the fox's paws on the ground.

And yet... this time it was Naruto too. He wasn't in darkness. He felt the wind, the ground, the lash of the fox's tails. It was a little softened, a little distant, but it was all there.

So he saw when Madara turned from his fight with Tsunade. She took the opening instantly, landing a punch that tore away Madara's arm and shoulder and slammed him into the ground hard enough to crater it. Black fire blasted out from where he landed, speeding away in two directions, ringing in the demon and Nine-tails. And Madara.

And when Madara stood up, he was whole again.

The only thing that shook Naruto out of his shock was feeling Nine-tails' chakra slowing, around him. They were looking right at Madara, he realized, and yelled, "Nine-tails! Oi, stupid fox, look away!"

He got only the faintest, distracted grumble back.

"Oh fuck." Naruto reached out with immaterial hands and seized the fox's chakra, the chakra he was as familiar with now as his own, or Sakura or Sasuke's, and fought to surge it and shake off the Sharingan, to reclaim his partner's mind.

Kakashi-sensei slammed a fist down against the wall, actually cracking the capstone. "Regeneration," he spat, red eye fixed on where Madara had vanished behind the black flames.

"We have to get through," Sasuke said tightly. "I'm going to try to go over."

Sakura snapped out of her suspended moment of horror, and closed a hand around his arm. "Wait." She took a slow breath as he rounded on her, staring out at those flames. "Wait. I'll get you through."

"How?" Shikamaru demanded sharply. His fingertips were set together and Sakura could almost see the thoughts racing behind his eyes.

Her mouth quirked. "Why do you think I asked Jiraiya-sama to teach me some of his sage techniques?" she asked softly. From the moment she'd seen Amaterasu for the first time, from the moment she'd heard Madara still lived, she'd feared they would see it again if Madara ever came; it was the perfect answer to the problem of keeping Leaf's shinobi away while Madara subdued the Nine-tails.

Her response wasn't as perfect, but she thought it would work.

"Sakura," Kakashi said, low, from the edge of the wall, eyes fixed on the still figure of the Nine-tails, "you don't have any helpers for that one." It wasn't a denial; just a reminder of the risk she ran.

"It doesn't matter." She let Sasuke go and stepped to the edge of the wall herself. "Don't count on me for anything after this," she tossed over her shoulder at Shikamaru and didn't look back around until he nodded slowly.

"Sakura." Sasuke's hands slid over her shoulders as he came to stand close against her back. "Tell me what you're going to do."

She stood straight, breathing deep and steady to ready her chakra. "I'm going to remind the world that this fire doesn't belong in it. I don't know whether I'll be able to put it out or just suppress it for a while, so when I tell you to go, go fast."

His hands tightened. "All right." Softer, "I'll keep him safe."

Sakura smiled into the night, heart sure and strong even as her breath wavered in her throat. "Yes." She took one last breath and let her hands flow through the familiar series of her activation and spread them out toward the half a ri of land she needed to protect.

Using nature energy was not a matter of rote, where the right seals and concentration would always produce the same form. She thought perhaps Jiraiya-sama was right when he called it a matter of faith. She opened her own spirit to the inrush of utter wildness and shaped it with her heart, with her need, with the bared strength of her own life and will, holding the open spiral of this jutsu's seals, its shape, steady in her mind. Her three-ply chakra flowed into the shape easily; too easily. The danger of this technique was not burning out her subject, this time. No, this time it was the momentum, that it might sweep her away in the exaltation of being one with everything the world was, here on this night. This was a technique to touch, not only the energy of the land, but it's own chakra.

"Earth," she whispered into the bell of her jutsu, and almost cried out as it resonated, rang out over the forest drawing her chakra to it's own, recalled the very soil to itself. "Wood," she gasped, trembling, wrestling back the need to open her heart wider, to give all of herself to the trees as the smallest particles of them recalled what world they belonged to and shrugged free of the hell-grip of Amaterasu. "Wind..." It was almost a moan, and she sank to her knees as the air sang before the gate, dancing away from the all-consuming black fire, spreading her chakra just as fine and thin as it was.

Amaterasu guttered and sank, and finally flickered out.

Sakura gulped a breath, and pulled herself just far enough back to gasp, "Go!" Sasuke shot forward off the wall without question or hesitation, flickering across the seared strip to land at the Nine-tails' feet. Tsunade-sama was already lunging straight for Madara again. Shikamaru's team followed Sasuke, and relief swept through her. That was the last thing she needed to wait on. Sakura prepared to pry herself out of this wild jutsu before she forgot why she should want to.

An intrusion slid through the earth that her chakra embraced, and she flinched.

"Sakura?" Kakashi asked at her side, low and sharp, and she could feel his chakra too, like this, could almost see the hand seals poised and waiting in his palms to try to pull her out.

"Intruder," she gasped, and, after a moment's struggle to remember the word, "First!"

"The first attacker is coming into this area?"

She nodded, distantly relieved that Kakashi-sensei had understood, and closed her hands into fists, trying to hold onto that trace, to track it, even as it seemed to split.

"Earth," she rasped again, fiercely, to her jutsu and rocked back on her knees with shock when nothing happened. Her control wavered for a ragged breath and she gritted her teeth.

"I'll try to see them," Hinata's voice said softly on her other side. "Sakura-san, can you hold on?"

Sakura swallowed and nodded, and almost lost her grip anyway when Hinata pressed gently against her back and her hands came to rest on Sakura's forearms, three fingers down from her wrists. "Permit me," Hinata whispered. "Life of our land, Will of Fire, permit me."

The words resonated delicately through Sakura's technique, and Hinata's chakra slid down the path they made, light as a bird on the wind. Sakura reflected distantly, through her amazement that anyone else could affect the technique without burning them both out, that now she understood why Neji had consented to follow his cousin.

"All of them," Hinata murmured, distant. "All of them are coming. But they are only two. Only two that we need to find."

Yes. Yes, that made sense of what Sakura felt from the earth, from the trees. Two, and then a... haze around them. She could feel exactly where those two were, like she'd have felt a knife against her skin, but there were no words for it! Nothing she could tell them!

"I see it," Hinata whispered, and then, sharper. "I see them! Neji! They're coming for the Hokage!"

Abruptly she was gone and it was only Kakashi speaking to Sakura, low and sure. "Bring it down, Sakura. The technique. Let the pattern go. Come back, Sakura, your team is going to need you. Can you hear me? Naruto and Sasuke are going to need you."

Kakashi-sensei, Sakura decided, really fought dirty. But he had a point. She let go one finger at a time, pulled herself away bit by bit from the wild, singing being of the world's chakra and finally, with a deep, sobbing breath, snapped her hands together in her deactivation.

The brilliant awareness of the world went away and it was only with her eyes that she saw Hinata and Neji land on either side of Tsunade, spin like water flowing, and strike in perfect unison. A black figure and a white one flew back from their hands and were pounced on by ANBU as Tsunade bared her teeth at Madara and punched the tree he was in hard enough to fell it.

Sakura shuddered as the cold of chakra depletion hit her and heard Kakashi calling sharply for a medic as she fixed her eyes on the enormous, nine-tailed fox that was finally moving again, rearing up as if to claw the moon from the sky.

Sasuke barely spared Madara a glance as he landed at the Nine-tails' feet, barely even noticed Shikamaru's team following him. He had more important things to worry about right now. The fox had shaken its head a little when Amaterasu died, and he hoped that meant Naruto was already pushing Madara's control back. He sucked in a breath and shouted up at them, "Naruto! Nine-tails!"

After a moment of heart-sinking stillness, the fox turned its head and looked down at him.

There were no seals associated with what Sasuke did next, no gestures to key it, but he reached out anyway, open hands stretched up toward the huge red eyes that met his as he cast his chakra out to touch the Nine-tails' and walked forward along that path.

There was another chakra already there, icy and sticky, flowing in strange curls and hitches to Sasuke's sight. He slipped past it, contorting to avoid its touch like he would have climbed through a thicket of poisonous vines. When his chakra met the Nine-tails' at last he gasped with the blaze of it and stumbled through brightness for a few steps before Naruto's hands caught his arms.

"There you are, finally, Sasuke we gotta hurry up, this asshole's Sharingan almost has a grip on Nine-tails!"

"Yes, I noticed that," Sasuke muttered, straightening. He was standing on a plain of water, broken here and there with rock formations, under a brilliant sky. It was the first time he'd walked into a mind so clear and unconstrained.

There was also a constant, harsh growl rolling out far over his head. He looked up to see the Nine-tails again, glaring down at him with furious suspicion. "Look," he said, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "I swear I don't want to control you! You're contracted with my own teammate!"

Naruto looked up at the fox, bouncing urgently on his toes, "Yeah, it's okay, really! I mean you're kind of like me right now, and Sasuke wouldn't do anything bad to me, right?"

"Humans who have power use it," the fox snarled.

"Not like this," Sasuke snapped, cutting his hand through the air, abruptly almost as angry as the fox; he was living his life as best he could to make himself and Uchiha into something that wasn't Itachi, wasn't Madara, and no furry, nine-tailed menace was going to say otherwise. "Not to harm my own!"

Narrowed red eyes stared down at him. "Your own?" the fox finally rumbled, low and dangerous. "You would dare claim that I am your own?"

"You live inside someone who is," Sasuke growled back. "You've helped him. For that, I'll protect you as I would him."

The fox's glare sharpened. "As you would him?" Abruptly, he leaned down, and a nose half as tall as Sasuke was sniffed at him, hard enough to tug at his clothes. When the fox drew back, it actually sat down and cocked an ear at him. It looked thoughtful. "I see." A lot of the snarl was gone. "You love him."

Sasuke stared, caught entirely flat-footed. "I... what?" The thought that the Nine-tails had figured that out from how he smelled rose embarrassingly in his mind.

"My idiot kit of a host," the fox specified, watching him closely. "You love him. That's why you do this."

Sasuke flushed, really not wanting to have this conversation with a demon beast, for crying out loud, and also not while Naruto was listening, watching them with wide eyes. The intuition his clan sharpened on the Sharingan was jabbing him hard, though, so he took a breath and made himself say out loud, "Yes."

The Nine-tails lay down on the surface of the water. "Hm."

"Is that what it takes, for you to accept?" Sasuke asked quietly.

Naruto's eyes widened further, and he spun around to point at the fox. "That's it! That's what it is! That's why you keep getting all mellow and shit at the weirdest times!"

The fox eyed its host with some exasperation, and Sasuke was reminded of all the times Naruto had compared the two of them. "I would say, rather, you keep having love-fests at the strangest moments. Though I suppose life and death combat does tend to remind one of the important things." His eyes narrowed. "And if you'd just said that my part of the bargain was to help you protect what you love, instead of blithering on about your 'important people', this could all have gone much more smoothly. Humans."

Naruto turned a little red. "You don't just say things like that outright, that's... that's... I mean..."

"Idiot kit," the fox growled, ears at a resigned angle.

Sasuke took a slow breath and stepped forward to rest a hand on Naruto's shoulder, looking up at the fox. "I love him," he admitted, low. "And I love Sakura. My teachers. A lot of the village is full of total idiots, but I... I love the quarter where I live. I never thought I would, again. Will this let you accept my protection?" Part of him flinched to be saying all this out loud; this was the truth he held silent in his heart. But if this was what it took to guard his place and his people, he would do it.

The fox's lip curled and it glanced away over the water and stone of this space. "As long as you don't start thinking I'm yours or any such nonsense. Yes, yes, get on with it."

Naruto smacked the fox on the shoulder affectionately. "Well then you have to look over here, already. Quit being difficult."

Nine-tails bared his teeth at Naruto, but Sasuke could tell it was mostly for show. "Insolent brat." He did meet Sasuke's eyes again, though, and this time when Sasuke cast forward his chakra it sank into the fox's and the Sharingan's marks faded up into the Nine-tails' eyes. The fox shuddered the whole length of his body, ears flat against his skull.

"My protection," Sasuke promised, very softly, already feeling the drain on his chakra of holding this seal over such a vast being, and feeling too the cold corruption of Madara's chakra against his, like rotting flesh pressed against his own. He pushed back against that violently, and the fox's ears unfolded just a little. That gave Sasuke an idea, and before he could think better of it he pulled Naruto tight into his arms. "My protection," he whispered again, against unruly yellow hair. "Our strength is your shield. Defend our home."

Naruto's arms locked fiercely around him, nearly crushing his ribs, but that was all right. Besides, the fox's ruff was smoothing, no longer bristled. Sasuke smiled, wryly; whatever worked. He pushed Naruto a little away. "Get going, then."

Naruto laughed and Sasuke found himself back kneeling on the dirt and splintered wood outside the south gates with Shikamaru's team standing guard over him. One of the black intruders was melting into the dirt a little ways off. Ino glanced down at him.

"He's back," she said, clipped, and then, seeing the direction of his gaze, smiled tightly. "One of them tried to attack you just before Neji and Hinata nailed the two that controlled them all. Not a problem."

Having seen the three of them work together, their whiplash speed and precision, Sasuke could believe it.

"Is your technique still running or done?" Shikamaru asked, eyes still scanning the woods around them.

"Still running," Sasuke said, breathing slowly and focusing the outflow his chakra to keep his seal on the Nine-tails, over the flowering of its rage and against the increasing pressure from Madara.

"We've got you," Shikamaru said quietly. "Just work."

Sasuke nodded and focused his eyes on the fox and nothing else as it bounded toward the nine-eyed demon.

Tsunade's heart had turned to ice for one moment, when the marks of the Sharingan appeared over the Nine-tails' eyes. But in the next she heard Madara's snarled curse and saw the fox lunge toward the demon to rip at its arms, and knew they might just win this one after all. She spun in between Madara and Sasuke as the old man turned to make for his descendant with an unholy light glaring in his eyes, and threw him back with a scything kick.

And she knew, knew damn it, that she'd broken his breastbone with that kick, but it was whole when he came back at her and she couldn't sense his chakra doing anything that would account for it! Madara smiled nastily at her bared teeth as they closed again in a whirl of fire and knives and the wild strength that had always lived in her bones.

"Ironic, don't you think?" he breathed. "Senju's strength undone by... Senju's strength."

"What the fuck are you babbling about?" Tsunade pulverized the ground under his feet to dust and leaped after him as he retreated.

"Before I left Hashirama at the Falls, I took a sample, you see." Madara spread his arms wide and she felt the hideous, insinuating strength of his chakra again, shaped by that damn Mangekyou Sharingan. Forcing it out of her own chakra pathways distracted her for one crucial moment and she snarled as she pulled his shuriken out of her leg.

And then she actually heard what Madara said. A sample. From her grandfather, the strongest user of Wood natured chakra the world had seen in generations. Something that could defeat her own combat strength. Decades of knowledge in the healing arts gave her the key that connected the two things. "Regeneration," she whispered.

"You always were a clever child, if led carefully enough," Madara murmured.

Fury blazed up in Tsunade's heart like the sun, fury too wild for any shouting to encompass and so her voice was low when she spoke. "First you betray him, and then you steal from his very blood."

"I would never have had to if he'd just seen sense." Madara's words were soft and calm and mad. "But it's all right. I will rule the world, once all the tailed beasts are mine, as it should have been from the start. And he will be with me, as it should have been."

Tsunade locked down a shudder of horror. There was no time for that; she had a duty to perform, here. Not only for her village but for her blood.

Yes. Her blood. That was the way.

She screamed as she lunged at Madara, letting her punch go slightly awry, letting him retreat with a laugh. While he was laughing, she sliced her fingers on her own kunai and swiftly traced seals in blood over her palms, down her arms. She drew the last one over her own heart.

"You shouldn't have told me that," she said softly, gathering her chakra and her will.

"Ah?" Madara hovered just out of range, taunting. "And why not?"

Tsunade's hands flashed through twenty-eight seals and ended in the Snake. "Because blood calls to blood." She lifted two fingers in the initiation and, as fire spread down every vein from her heart, released her Yin seal. The lines on her arms blazed up and there were no more words.

Blood Song was a forbidden technique, locked away for three generations since the villages were first founded. It was a legacy of the warring clans period, and the cruel expedients that century of conflict had driven the clans to, to protect their own blood. To control their own blood.

Madara fought her, silent and vicious now. She could feel his chakra prying at hers, feel the dizzy warping of the world as he tried to tear himself free of her grip, and she spent her own chakra like water into the desert to hold him, to reach into his body and claim what was hers. To tear it away from him—all that was blood of Senju.

And perhaps the years had taken their toll on this one of the most powerful ninja ever known, regeneration or no, because at last she felt it. As her vision darkened, she saw it. The red eyes fixed on hers lost focus, and the steel and stone chakra that wrestled with hers slackened. The blood of her clan slid into her control and she tore it free in one last burst of rage.

When she could see again, she was on her hands and knees, breath heaving hoarsely in her chest. In front of her was a withered body, barely more than skin stretched over bones, with red eyes. Still conscious eyes.

Tsunade's long years of training prodded at her, and her grandfather's teaching joined in. The way of Senju was one of honor and compassion. That was why she had become a healer. Every breath Madara took was wracked, cut short with the pains and breakdowns of decades all catching up at once. She should, at least, ease Madara's passing. The practical part of her knew she didn't have the strength to offer any kind of mercy, but breath, at least, remained to her. Breath and time for a few words. "My grandfather loved you," she whispered.

And then her lips pulled back off her teeth in a hard smile. "I don't."

Madara's eyes glinted at her past the Sharingan for a moment, before he closed them. Another shuddering breath, and the body before her was still and empty.

Tsunade let her head fall, sliding down to the ground, suddenly aware that her transformation had drained away and every bone in her body ached like something was gnawing on them. A rest would be good. Yes.

"Hokage-sama!" Gloved hands caught her, turning her gently, and even through the masks she could hear the hisses of her ANBU around her, shocked. She imagined she didn't look too very different from the dead body right now.

It took two attempts before she managed to swallow and husk out, "Kakashi."

"I'm here." Her chosen successor knelt beside her, and she smiled just a little to see the straightness of his spine, the mission awareness that wouldn't let him show his fear for her or his relief that she still lived. Stubborn brat that he was.

"In command," she whispered through dry, cracked lips, vision starting to gray again. "Shizune. To me."

"She's coming." Kakashi looked up at the masks surrounding them among the dark trunks. "Will you accept my command until the Hokage recovers?"

Cat stepped forward. "We will."

"Then get the civilians out of the shelters and up to the roofs, and call the patrols in to guard them. I want every citizen of Konoha somewhere they can see what's happening at this gate. Bring the twenty strongest shinobi still uninjured here to the gate to support Naruto and the Nine-tails. Go."

ANBU vanished, except for the two medics already working on her, and Tsunade made a mental note to tease Kakashi later about what a good leader he would make. And then Shizune was beside her, eyes furious and wet, swearing at her in three dialects as her glowing hands pressed over Tsunade's heart. Tsunade just smiled, looking up past the trees as her vision faded, to where a giant fox lashed nine tails across the sky and attacked the demon that threatened their village.

This time it was different. This time Naruto wasn't in darkness, catching moments of action here and there. Instead he felt like he was sitting on a boulder on the water plain and at the very same time standing right behind Nine-tails' eyes as the fox leaped through Konoha's forest, savaging the demon. He could feel the flex of the fox's haunches, the clench of his jaw as he seized an arm and tore at it. He could certainly feel the shift of their chakra as the fox breathed a blast of fire at the demon, wild and exultant.

"How can you be calmed down by someone's love and still like destruction this much?" he wondered as they leaped to evade the demon's fist and the fox lashed out with a tail to throw it backwards.

You call this destruction? the fox sneered. Pah! I raise tsunami and level mountains, kit. I bring fire and death and change, and I sweep corruption from this world. That's what I am!

Tailed beasts, Naruto decided, were even weirder than noble clans. "Well you're not being very much yourself, then, are you?" he prodded. "I mean, after a mountain, one demon shouldn't be too hard to level." Secretly he was kind of wondering if the fox was drawing it out so he could keep his own form for longer. And he couldn't blame Nine-tails at all, but they had work to be getting on with, here!

You were the one who wanted me to be careful where I put my feet, the fox shot back, silkily. And then, with a deeper growl, And watch. He caught hold of the demon's arm again, shaking his head fiercely, and this time he actually ripped the arm all the way off.

There was no blood or anything like it. Nine-tails might as well have torn the arm off a statue, except for the weird, shifting glow that showed through the gap. "What's that?" Naruto asked warily, experienced enough by now to be suspicious of anything that looked this strange. It was usually bad news.

That demon is only a container. The fox's tails lashed grimly. It is animated by the strength of my kin, but it is not host to them or anything like. And what truly binds them lives inside it.

Naruto planted his hands on his hips, annoyed. "Well then why haven't you busted it up yet?"

There was enough roar in the fox's response that Naruto winced. Because, you insolent brat, the moment I shatter the container the binding dragons will escape it! Even I can't catch seven fleeing prey in the same instant!

And, if Naruto was any judge, the fox was immensely pissed off about that. "Okay, okay." Naruto patted the air soothingly with raised hands. "We'll figure something out. Look, what if we switch really fast, and I can do binding seals..."

Someone coughed. It was a teacherly, pay-attention-children cough, and so startling in the circumstances that Naruto and the fox both blinked. The fox turned his head and there, standing on top of a tall pine, was Kakashi-sensei.

"Do excuse my cutting in on the conversation," he said blandly, "but if the binding elementals are not drawing a great deal of power from their captives, I believe we can help with that."

Naruto nearly fell off his boulder laughing. "You said it out loud! After all that pissy growling at me for talking out loud, you said it out loud!"

Shut up, kit, the fox rumbled, examining Kakashi-sensei, and Naruto heard him when he spoke, just a little bit distant or muffled. "Help how, little shinobi?"

Kakashi spread his hands. "If you can shatter that demon, I think we have enough people to catch seven dragons at once."

"Only to bind my kin again." The fox's lip curled up in the start of a snarl, and Naruto was really kind of impressed that Kakashi-sensei was still looking the fox steadily in the eye instead of backing up.

"Have you gained nothing from your own contract, youko-san?"

Naruto actually felt the fox's ear tilt with startlement, and then Nine-tails threw up his head and laughed like thunder. "I see where the kit gets his insolence from." He looked down at Kakashi again, teeth bared. "Very well, shinobi. Ready your people."

This time Naruto felt clearly the wild surge of chakra as the fox tipped his head up and breathed out, building a ball of force over his mouth. He really hoped Kakashi-sensei wouldn't let people get too close too soon. The demon had pulled itself back to its feet and was coming for them again, remaining arm spread wide, mouth gaping as if it wanted to take a bite out of Nine-tails. The hunger in that silent charge send a shiver of nerves down Naruto's spine, and he found himself reaching out, adding his chakra to the fox's until the ball of it roiled. He could feel the fox's approval and all nine of the fox's tails spread in a fan to shape their attack.

The demon was three strides away when the fox whipped his head down and released the sky-shattering blast of power.

Demon-shattering, too. Naruto punched the air, right along with the fox's howl of triumph, as blasted fragments scythed outward into the forest.

And then they were surrounded by nine huge dragons, colorful and transparent like glass ornaments, seven of them wrapped like knots around seven tailed beasts.

That, and by shinobi leaping out of the trees.

Temari was the first one to call out her target, as the colored dragons started to rush apart from each other. "Indigo!" and Shikamaru knew exactly what the imperious glance she flicked at him meant.

"Massive pain in the ass," he muttered. They'd only just gotten Sasuke back up to the wall, after all, and the stubborn bastard refused to terminate his seal on the Nine-tails and hadn't been any help at all. "What do you need me for?"

"To hold it still so I don't hit the One-tail," Temari snapped. "Hurry up."

Shikamaru groaned. He'd known it.

"Oh quit complaining," Ino told him, hip-checking him in Temari's direction. "I'll make sure Sasuke doesn't kill himself with stubbornness. Go on."

Shikamaru muttered under his breath about pushy women, glumly reflecting on how much his father was going to tease him about this when he heard. But he knelt by Temari as she coiled into a leaping stance and set his hands in the seal to initiate Shadow Binding. "Someone give me a flare!" he called. At least seven people sent up bursts of fire from the roofs behind him, and he knew in that moment that Kakashi-san had been wise. The village wanted to save itself, not just be saved, and those who helped in this last part of the fight would remember fighting alongside the Nine-tails.

He drove his shadow across the broken trees to lock around the indigo dragon and set his teeth hard at the tearing resistance. "Do it fast," he gritted out.

Temari sprang into the sky like lightning in reverse, and her fan cut the air into vast knives around their target, over and over, slashing the dragon summons into pieces until the beast it held broke free with a roar. The One-tail was just fine, Shikamaru noted distantly, catching himself with a hand on the wall as he released his technique, panting for breath. She hadn't even scratched it.

Maybe that was why the tanuki just glared around before dissolving into a gritty blast of sirocco wind.

"Whoohoo!" Suigetsu hollered, leaping from the wall, and Choujuurou winced. He really hoped Suigetsu wouldn't get too carried away, and would remember what they were and weren't supposed to kill. That was always a bit of a problem with him.

"Tsururi-san, I think the light green dragon is for us," he told his other companion politely, seeing Suigetsu headed in the general direction of the dark green one wrapped around the Three-tails.

Tsururi, who had retrieved and thus inherited Ringo-senpai's Fangs, flexed her hands around the grips, grinning. "Let's do it."

The dragon they targeted was actually starting to unwind a little, perhaps understanding that it had enemies to face. "Pin the head!" Choujuurou called as they leaped, unbinding Hiramekarei. They needed to do this fast.

"I'll fillet it, you tenderize it!" Tsururi called back, and Choujuurou only refrained from rolling his eyes because this was the middle of a fight and despite what Ao-san thought, he was as dedicated a swordsman and shinobi as any of his lost senpai. So he just narrowed his eyes, shifting his balance in the air to let breath, chakra, force flow through him, through his sword.

Tsururi drove straight up from below the dragon, swords crossed, and caught it under the jaw, slicing in deep. "Now!"

There was no need for words. Choujuurou felt the moment, like a cord snapping taut, pulling his arm down. Chakra blazed around his blade, and he bared his teeth with satisfaction as he struck the dragon's spine and the force of it whiplashed along the summons' length. It uncoiled from the Six-tails like a pulled string and shattered into shards of green light.

And Choujuurou swore that, for one moment, the Six-tails looked at them. At him. Perhaps even recognized them. It was only a single moment, though, before the great slug was diving through the sky, making east for the lakes and the sea. He shook himself, flicking the bindings back around his sword as he touched down on one of Konoha's great trees and looked to see how Suigetsu was doing.

Suigetsu was laughing among the fading mist of the dark green dragon, and Choujuurou thought he might be reaching out to pat the Three-tails as he went past. At any rate, the Three-tails spun on one foot, amazingly fast for a huge sea turtle, and smacked Suigetsu out of the air with one of its tails. Choujuurou winced at the plume of debris that rose from Suigetsu's landing and sighed as the Three-tails raged off through the woods and a squad of Leaf-nin darted over the wall to fetch Suigetsu.

He knew his unit was still rebuilding itself, and that the Mizukage was far too wise and compassionate to expect perfect decorum out of the Swordsmen in any case. But he wasn't entirely looking forward to reporting this to her.

Kiba had never seen his mother quite as pissed off as she was tonight. Apparently obaa-san hadn't been joking when she'd said Tsume had the instincts to lead the clan after her, and that mostly meant a whole damn lot of Mine. First it was hide and seek with those damn black and white things, then demons, now dragons and tailed beasts scattered all over their damn territory; it was enough to make his claws itch, too, and he wasn't any kind of alpha. His mother hadn't stopped showing her teeth all night.

"Yellow," Tsume snarled, and Kiba and Hana both sprang on her heels without protest, bounding over the trees toward the yellow dragon with their partners. Everyone was growling low in their throats as they leaped up to slash and worry at the dragon, pulling it loose from the beast coil by coil even as it hissed silently and slashed back with long talons.

When one of those talons hit one of the Haimaru triplets, Tsume threw her head back and howled, absolutely outraged by the scent of her pack's blood. Kiba yelped a little under his breath, and sprang with Akamaru to pin down the dragon's tail while his mother and Kuromaru whirled into a stupendous Fang Passing Fang and hit the dragon just behind its head.

And that was pretty much that.

The Four-tails shook itself loose from the fading coils and shot for the sky like a comet going home, and Tsume looked just a little calmer when she landed. Enough that Kiba and Hana both straightened up and smiled at her. She smiled back, showing her teeth lazily, and rested a hand on Kuromaru's back. "Well, come on, then. Let's see if any of these other slackers need help."

His mom was definitely scary, Kiba reflected as they bounded back toward the wall, but that was okay. He kind of liked it that way.

Kakashi watched, taut, as Konoha's uninjured jounin and their support dove outward from the south gate to catch the dragons the Nine-tails had broken loose. In some cases, that support was less than he would have liked.

"Come, my student! Let us defeat this foe with the fiery passion of youth!"

"Yes, Gai-sensei!"

Okay, not in that case, he had to admit. Kakashi spared a hidden smile for the sight of his 'rival' and Gai's student, spinning through Gai's extravagantly proclaimed Leaf Coiling Whirlwind with perfect synchronization. He'd almost swear the dull blue dragon's eyes bugged out as two explosive kicks landed on either side of its head. At any rate, it toppled, already fading, toward the ground, and the sleek form of the Five-tails sprang free and galloped east toward the faint beginning of dawn.

No, Kakashi wasn't worried about Gai. What he didn't like was Genma's insistence on taking on the orange dragon that held the Two-tails alone. He knew Genma had known that host, had respected her, but the hard light in Genma's eyes when he'd brushed off any assistance suggested there was something deeper there than he'd thought. That didn't make Kakashi a happy commander. Genma's expertise was with small weapons, and while his water knives were cutting deep, they weren't enough to disperse the dragon.

Just enough to enrage it.

Coil on coil slid free from the Two-tails as the dragon struck after Genma again and again. It was a virtuoso performance of speed and precision to evade and strike, over and over. Even so, Kakashi was poised to call for long-distance support from the watching shinobi whether Genma liked it or not. Just before the measure in his head that weighed Genma's need for revenge against his life tipped, though, one last coil slipped loose.

And the Two-tails struck.

With a yowl that echoed through the valley, the demon cat pulled free and spun to sink claws and teeth into the dragon, ripping it into orange mist. Finally, it stood, stiff-legged and bristling, glaring around the torn ground, and Kakashi had to bite back a curse as he realized Genma was standing right in front of it, out in the open at the top of a half-seared pine. He was talking to the enraged Two-tails, and Kakashi's eye widened a little as he read the movement of Genma's lips.

I remember her. I remember you. We didn't realize, in time to save her. I'm sorry.

The cat stared down at him, and slowly it's hackles lowered. It leaned down to sniff at Genma, and Kakashi's hands wove through the long distance body-switching seals as fast as they ever had in his life, ready to swap himself for Genma, who seemed to have lost his mind.

The cat blinked and slowly dispersed into mist, curling through the trees and away.

Kakashi slumped, leaving the seals just barely uncompleted. "Going to give me a damn heart attack," he muttered, and gave Tenzou, standing beside him, a dour look at his faint breath of a laugh. "Easy for you to laugh. ANBU was never this kind of trouble."

From the angle of Tenzou's head, he was smiling behind Cat's mask. Only for a moment, though, before he stiffened. "I wouldn't be too sure of that."

Kakashi's head snapped around to see Anko diving down, short sword first, on the red dragon currently wrapped in the grip of her snake summons. It would have been the perfect finishing attack if the dragon hadn't torn its head free, jaws opening to meet her.

Anko bared her teeth as the dragon pulled its head loose. It was too late to alter her attack in any way but by aborting it completely and she was damned if she was going to do that. Down the throat it was!

She almost lost her aim when a water rope snaked around the dragon's muzzle and cinched it closed in one yank. In the next moment, she had to focus on her strike, knifing the dragon through the spine with all the force of her descent, but as soon as the damn thing burst into red shards she got a foot against the Seven-tails and pushed off to leap for the wall, ignoring the outraged insectile hiss behind her.

She touched down in front of Kurenai and glared. "What the hell was that?!"

Kurenai was bent over, hands against her knees, breathing hard. "That." A breath. "Was me saving." Another breath. "Your ass. You're welcome."

"You only got out of the hospital a few weeks ago!" Anko hollered, gesturing with her sword, other hand jammed on her hip. "You're still on restricted duties! You're still in the middle of postpartum chakra drain! Goddamn it, Kurenai!"

Jounin, honestly! She swore there was nothing as much of a pain in the ass as a jounin!

Kurenai straightened slowly, tossing her hair back. "I'm a shinobi of Konoha, and I was here when my comrade needed help."

Anko stared at her for a long moment and finally sighed. "Fuck." She slung an arm around Kurenai's shoulders. "Thanks. I owe you one." She watched as Kurenai relaxed, and promptly re-focused her chakra and swept the other woman up in her arms.

"Anko!" Kurenai yelped.

"And I'll just repay you now," Anko said sweetly as she sprang down inside the wall, "by taking you to the medic station to be checked over. Just to be sure." She grinned as Kurenai growled in her ear. A little irritation would help Kurenai recover faster. That was her story and she was sticking to it.

The fox watched the last of the other tailed beasts making tracks away from Konoha and shook himself all over, settling his fur. Well? he asked. Satisfied with our bargain, kit?

Naruto looked through the fox's eyes at the slowly lightening sky and the mess of torn ground and splintered trees, at the shinobi lining Konoha's wall, and the ones who had just arrived on the cliff over the valley. All alive. He felt a last, weary brush of Sasuke's chakra as the Sharingan seal withdrew, and spotted the pink of Sakura's hair at the top of the wall. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I am. Thank you."

One more thing, then, before you go back to those 'important people' of yours. The fox bent his head down to something on the ground, and Naruto made a disgusted face as he realized it was Madara's body, all withered and yuck.

"Eew!" he yelled as Nine-tails closed his teeth lightly over the body. "Ew, ew, ew, what are you doing?"

What I live for, the fox rumbled, and tossed his head up, throwing the body up in the air, battle fan and all. Naruto felt the ingathering of chakra as the fox inhaled, and then Madara's body was seared out of existence by the exhaled burst of fire against the sky. Mm. Better, Nine-tails growled, tails lashing with satisfaction.

He tilted an ear at the faint cheers from the wall and snorted. Humans. You can deal with that nonsense, kit.

Again there was a strange, sliding moment of rising, of feeling the fox brush past him, and Naruto was standing in a newly made clearing, blinking with his own eyes. Hearing the rising cheers of victory with his own ears. He laughed out loud as he took a running leap up two trees to the top of Konoha's wall and catapulted into Sasuke and Sakura's arms. He held on tight as the first rays of light slid over the horizon and touched Konoha's roofs to color and life again. His village. His people. Alive. He felt the fox settle, in his soul, and smiled.

His home, now and always.

Cloud Hands

Hinata has long been inspired by Naruto, and watching his determination helps her find her own. Seeking a way to help her clan and herself, she turns to Hyuuga's history and finds old strength and new thoughts there, courage and hope. In the end, she even finds her way back to an older love. Drama, Action, Romance, I-4

When Hyuuga Hinata was three years old, her playmate Neji-niisan went away for two weeks. When he came back his eyes were darker than they had been. He still smiled at her, though, and tugged gently on her hair, and told her he would protect her, and she loved him more than anyone.

When Hinata was five, she was stolen out of her room in the middle of the night, and woke to darkness and confusion and falling—falling bodies all around her. But her father was there, and took her home again, and everything was all right. It was that year, though, that Neji-niisan stopped smiling at her.

When Hinata was seven, she fainted from exhaustion during training. Her father was frowning when she came back to awareness, groggy and limp-muscled.

When Hinata was eight she entered the Academy and, for the first time, trained with other children who were not Hyuuga. They were loud and cheerful and rude, and never waited long enough to hear her answers when they asked questions. She tried to find Neji-niisan during lunch, to sit with him, but he always vanished as soon as he saw her.

When Hinata was ten, she lost every match in a week to Hanabi, and her father told her she was no longer Hyuuga's heir, and turned away.

When Hinata was eleven, she fell in love a second time, with one of the loud, rude, cheerful boys, because she saw how every back was turned toward him and how, still, he never gave up.

When Hinata turned fourteen, she gathered all her courage in her hands and walked into the training hall while Neji-niisan was working, and asked to train with him. Quietly, face shadowed by the wooden slats of the window, he agreed.

That was the year she began to wonder whether she could change fate, too.

"Chichi-ue?" Hinata hovered in the door to his rooms, nervous. "May I ask for a key to the clan archives?"

Her father looked up, brows rising. "The archives? Why?"

Hinata looked down and murmured, "So that I may learn more of my ancestors. And I thought, perhaps... perhaps there are techniques I might be able to use..."

He sighed, laying down his ink brush. "I doubt there is anything that will help you. But if you wish to search, very well." He rose and went to one of the small boxes along the wall, sliding it open and selecting a small key. "Don't take it out of the house."

"Of course not," Hinata murmured, still cringing from the remark about nothing helping her. "Thank you, Chichi-ue."

"Mm." He had already returned to his writing, and she slipped out silently, clutching the key. This was her chance—her hope.

She stole down the halls, away from the noise of conversations, of training, of food being prepared, toward the still quiet of waiting words.

At first, the sheer volume of the records intimidated her. She'd never be able to get through all of them, at least not quickly; it would take months, years even to read all of these. But she remembered Naruto and his determination. She took a breath full of paper dust, and stood on her toes to take down the scrolls from the clan's founding from their shelf. She would start at the beginning. And she would keep going until she found what she was looking for.

She unrolled the crackling scroll with a delicate hand, only opening a few lines at a time.

...these eyes see to the heart of the world. They may see, also, to the heart of our enemies. My sister is willing, for the sake of our family, to try if we can fix these eyes in our line. We will give the hearts of our enemies into the hands of our children.

And what, Hinata had to wonder, were the children of Hyuuga supposed to do with those hearts once they held them?

She read on, frowning a little, in the steady light of her lamp.

"Hinata? Oi, Hinata! You awake?" Kiba waved a hand in front of her face and Hinata stifled a yawn.

"Of course I'm awake, Kiba-kun." She smiled at him, reassuring.

He hmphed and sprawled next to her in the grass of the hill where they waited for their teacher. "Training is good, but don't do so much of it you're asleep at mission briefings, yeah?" He glanced at her sidelong as Akamaru flopped down between them. "That bastard Neji isn't being too hard on you, is he?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Hinata said hastily. Kiba still growled at Neji-niisan whenever they met; even a year later, he hadn't forgiven what happened at their first chuunin exam.

"Well okay, then." Kiba leaned back on his elbows, head tossed back in the sunlight. He looked so much like Akamaru, now flopped over on his back with his paws in the air, that Hinata had to smile. She rubbed Akamaru's tummy gently and he wriggled with pleasure, panting up at her with a dog-grin.

"Kiba-kun?" she said slowly, thinking. "Do you... does your clan breed your nin-dogs? Breed them for the things they are?" She could feel Shino's eyes on her, from where he leaned against the tree at the top of the hill.

"Well we keep track of their breeding, yeah." Kiba reached over and tugged on one of Akamaru's ears, smiling the way he only did for his dog. "But the intensive breeding... that was a long time ago."

"Has your clan mentioned a marriage to you?" Shino asked quietly. Hinata's mouth quirked, a little sad. Of course, another noble would think of that immediately.

"No. No, it's just... I've been reading some of our old records these last couple months. Some of the things that were done to fix the Byakugan in our bloodline were... more than I was expecting." Brother and sister hadn't surprised her, but breeding children to their parents... she was glad she lived in a more civilized time.

Shino just nodded, understanding, but Kiba's eyes darkened. "Hinata..." He subsided with a growl when she shook her head at him. Really, she'd already known that ruthlessness ran in the Hyuuga blood, along with their eyes.

"All right, everyone!" Kurenai-sensei waved at them from the bottom of the hill. "I have the briefing, let's get going! Hinata," she added, as they scrambled up and trotted down to join her, "is everything all right?"

Hinata set aside her reading and the thoughts it brought with a soft toss of her head and smiled up at her teacher, shyly reassuring. "Yes, Kurenai-sensei."

This was a clan matter. She was a daughter of Hyuuga. She would find her own way.

Neji-niisan stopped with his palm against her diaphragm and Hinata straightened with a sigh. "I was too slow blocking," she murmured.

"It isn't speed you need there, Hinata-sama," he said, frowning a little. "You could have avoided that simply by shifting your stance forward and turning your body."

She blinked and ran through the sequence in her head, and blushed hotly. "Oh."

Neji-niisan studied her, head tipped to the side. "You've been missing that more often, lately, and trying to block when you don't need to. I think perhaps you're focusing too tightly."

Hinata clasped her hands together, looking down; even her determination seemed to go wrong when it came to her own clan's techniques. She'd hoped, once, that reading the old records might help her with that also, but after most of a year she understood no better. She started when Neji-niisan touched her wrist. "You're not flinching any more," he said gently. "That's the important part. If you only have the courage to close in, that's when you can use the greatest strength of our art." With a faint smile, he added, "Ignore the hand..."

"Control the space," she recited automatically. Though how a person was supposed to counter a strike by ignoring it she had never understood and no one had ever explained. She sighed softly.

After a quiet moment, Neji-niisan said, slowly, "I think perhaps you were never taught quite what that rule means, Hinata-sama." He beckoned her back in and took up a stance opposite her, nearly knee to knee. She obediently matched him. "Watch my eyes, Hinata-sama," he said quietly. Very, very slowly his hand moved toward her in an open palm strike, and she tensed, arm twitching, ready to strike it aside. "Not my hand, my eyes," Neji-niisan reminded her, and she fixed her eyes back on his hastily.

And started.

She could see his whole body. With her eyes fixed on his, she could see the movement of his whole body—almost as if she had the Byakugan activated!

Neji smiled that faint smile of his again. "There. Now you can see, right?"

Breathless, eyes very wide, Hinata slowly shifted forward. His hand brushed right past her ribs and hers drifted forward through the open space his strike made until it came to rest against his chest. They stood that way for a long moment until she gathered enough of her wits to step back. She was breathing fast.

"That's the nature of our entire art," Neji-niisan told her calmly. "To see the whole space, and to move based on that whole pattern." He held up his hand. "Not just this one part of it."

"Oh." Hinata pressed her clasped hands to her mouth, shaking a little. She understood. She understood! She'd seen! "A..." Her voice broke and she had to clear her throat. "Again?" she asked, husky.

This time, Neji's smile was a full one.

The door to the Hyuuga archives opened and Hinata looked up, blinking in the sudden flood of light. Her father stood in the doorway.

"What have you found today, daughter?"

It was the question he asked every time he came here. She thought he meant it kindly, meant to say to her that what she did interested him as it had not for so many years. But it felt more like a challenge—a cross-examination, to determine whether her work had any worth. She tried to answer anyway.

Hinata looked down and touched the book spread out before her with delicate fingers. "I'm reading the records of the eighth head of the clan. He..." She nibbled her lip. "He took the leadership of the clan from his older brother."

"Ah. Yes, that used to happen, I'm afraid." He came and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Some of this must be very disturbing to you to read."

"It's very different," she said diplomatically. To herself, she thought it had probably worked better. In that day, Neji would have been the clan heir. And wouldn't that have been better for everyone? She certainly wouldn't have fought him for it! And he was just as much Hyuuga blood as she, so shouldn't the strongest lead, if that was what mattered?

And if that wasn't what mattered, why had Hanabi been made heir in her place? Reading the archives made her think of these things.

"Well, it's time to eat soon," her father said, hearing none of her thoughts. "Come."

Hinata nodded obediently and marked her place and followed him out.

The archives made her think. The curse seal dictated much about how their clan lived. But she had found no mention of the seal at all, yet. It made her nervous, and it made her hope. They had lived for so long without the seal. Surely, then, they could find a way to live without it now.

Surely, if she just searched far enough, she could find a way. If she could just see enough of the larger pattern—not the single hand of the seal, but the whole space of their history—surely she would see the space where the Hyuuga could move next.

She thought of Neji-niisan's instruction, and smiled down at the floor of the corridor.

Kiba cursed under his breath. "Lost them again!"

They'd been tracking a group of strange shinobi through Leaf's territory for hours, and the intruders were proving themselves skilled. Kurenai-sensei's mouth tightened with clear annoyance and she paused on a branch. "Hinata."

Hinata nodded silently and put her back to a tree trunk, folding her hands together and activating her Byakugan. "Nothing close," she whispered, and widened her field. Wider. Wider. She was unfocusing, which used to be where she stopped, thinking that was the end of her range. Now she knew to keep going. Wider. There. "Three point two kilometers," she reported, "Northwest, fifteen degrees."

"Can you tell how many of them?" Kurenai-sensei asked.

Hinata took a breath and narrowed her field of vision, pressing back harder against the tree. This always made her dizzy. "Five," she gasped.

Kurenai's elegant brows drew down in a frustrated scowl. "Too many of them for us to take on ourselves without observing more closely. We'll close up slowly, then. Kiba! Send Akamaru back to the village to bring back another team to support us." While Kiba was talking softly to Akamaru, she laid a hand on Hinata's shoulder. "We'll rely on you to track them until we're close enough for Shino's bugs to go on ahead."

Hinata straightened, determined. "Right."

She kept her focus tight on the intruders as they moved, slowly closing the distance between them. She was getting better at this, at holding the Byakugan and even altering her field of view a little bit while moving.

Suddenly, though, the distance was closing a lot faster.

"They've turned around to meet us," she reported, and Kurenai spat a chopped off curse as she landed.

"Kiba, stay up here," Kurenai ordered. "Hinata, Shino, down on the ground. We'll hold them if we can, but if we can't then we'll retreat back toward the village and draw them down our backtrail to meet our support team." Her hands came together in the Monkey and she vanished from sight.

From all sight but Hinata's, that was.

Hinata set herself at the foot of a tree, reminding herself to breathe deep and slow. She could do this. She could. She spread her focus out again, encompassing all of her team, reaching outward. The intruders were coming fast; she let the edge of her range shrink again on their heels, back to a more comfortable two hundred meters. She saw Kurenai's chakra flare and two of the intruders suddenly stumble, wrapped in her illusion. "One on one," she called to Shino and Kiba, and then one of the intruders was on her, dropping from the trees to crouch, poised, in front of her.

She wanted to freeze. She wanted to hide. But she wouldn't do that; this was a mission and she was a shinobi, and she could do this. Watch his eyes, she reminded herself, not his hands!

And she could see. She could see the path of the kunai coming toward her in the shape of her opponent's arm, and swayed aside from it easily. Easily! A breath of excitement joined her determination and she ran forward to close with him.

It doesn't matter how much power the enemy strikes with, Neji-niisan's voice said in her memory, calm and quiet, because you won't be there. That is our defense, Hinata-sama. She kept her eyes on the intruder's, watching the shape of his movements, and slid aside from blow after blow, stepping through the openings his attacks left again and again. Her return blows didn't have great power, but, she reminded herself, they didn't need to. Her enemy was stumbling, now, organs laboring under the jarring shocks of her open palm, chakra sliding out of his control. He was starting to leave himself more and more open.

There!

Before the thought even finished forming in her mind, her hand had closed into a fist and she'd taken one perfect step forward, shifting with all the momentum of her entire body, and driven that fist into his solar plexus. And he fell.

Hinata stood over him for a breath, almost stunned. She'd done it.

Abruptly, she noticed that there were far more chakra signatures in her field of vision than there should have been, and she spun around, looking frantically for her teammates...

Sakura dropped out of the trees beside her, breathless and smiling. "Good job, Hinata! We're just finishing up with the rest of them. Two got away, but we've still got three of them for Interrogation to deal with." More Leaf ninja gathered around them, including Hinata's team. Kurenai had another of the intruders slung over her shoulder and was talking quietly with one of the new team. Hinata only recognized them vaguely; perhaps they were from Intelligence, if Sakura-san was here too.

She squeaked as Naruto came dashing through the trees and landed in a huff. "Lost them. They must have someone who's good at illusion with them." He glanced down at Hinata's opponent and then up at her with a grin. "You got one?"

Hinata just nodded wordlessly, blushing at that smile.

"She did." Sakura put a toe under the man's shoulder to flip him over. Her mouth tightened as she looked down at him. "Hidden Sound. Again." She beckoned to another of the newcomers. "Tie them securely, and we'll take them back right now."

"Is this... is this your team?" Hinata managed, softly, glancing between Sakura-san and Naruto-kun. They were both chuunin, now, after all, and they'd passed last season, only two years after graduation. She wouldn't be at all surprised if one of them were put in command of a new team. Sakura snorted.

"Well, most of them are my team for the moment. That one," she waved at Naruto, "invited himself along."

"Hey, I was bored!" Naruto-kun protested.

"Is that what you're going to tell Tsunade-sama, when she asks why you slacked off your exercises?"

Naruto sputtered for a moment before turning back brightly to Hinata while Sakura gave him a mock glare. "So, hey, you guys are going to take the next chuunin exam, aren't you?" He nudged her with a friendly elbow, making her squeak again. "It'll be a cakewalk this time, you'll see!"

"Course it'll be a cakewalk," Kiba declared, coming up behind Hinata to loom protectively.

"Oh, I know it will be for Hinata," Naruto said innocently. "Dunno about you, though."

Hinata just stood and blushed while Naruto and Kiba's teasing degenerated into wrestling. Eventually, Sakura waded in and pulled Naruto out, rolling her eyes. She was so at ease with him, Hinata thought wistfully, the way Hinata herself never had been. If Naruto-kun took up with anyone, it would probably be Sakura-san or Sasuke-kun. She'd known that for a year and more. But it still felt good to have Naruto smile at her, encourage her. Maybe... maybe he would even be there to cheer her on again, if her team did take the exam again next season.

She would like that. Naruto-kun made her feel like she could do things. Maybe even the things she wanted the very most to do.

Hinata stared down at the page before her with some astonishment. Just when she thought she understood the shape of her clan, something different revealed itself.

The fourteenth head of the clan had been blind.

She'd spent almost two years reading volumes of journals and chronicles from the founding of the clan forward, and the records that filled some of the early pages had been... harsh. For much of their early history, a child who was flawed would have been killed. And, to the Hyuuga clan, blindness was about as great a flaw as one could have. In later years, of course, that had changed. They had become more civilized. The flawed children, if they were whole enough to live, were only... solitary. To be honest, Hinata had wondered more than once if that was to be her fate—to live with neither husband nor lover, that her weakness not be passed to her children.

By all precedent, that should have been the fate of Hyuuga Ririko. Instead, she had risen to lead the entire clan!

She took a breath and sat back. See the space, she reminded herself. This was one more part in the bigger picture. Perhaps...

Perhaps the clan of that day had become too focused, the way Hinata herself had been until Neji-niisan explained things for her. Perhaps Ririko had been the one to step back and broaden their vision again.

Perhaps she had been the one to show that not looking at something helped one to better perceive its movement. Perhaps she had been one of those who had changed the clan.

Hinata leaned over the book table again and turned the page eagerly. Perhaps Ririko could help her.

Hinata shifted her weight on the packed earth of Konoha's arena and ruthlessly stifled a wince as her wrenched knee protested.

The chuunin exam had not precisely been a "cakewalk" but she had gotten this far, along with all her team. The first test, to shadow a chuunin unseen across the fourteenth training ground, had been easy for all of them. They had gotten their 'rescue subject' out of the Forest of Death alive, for the second test, despite Hagane-san's complete lack of cooperation and apparent dislike of Akamaru. Hinata had entertained a faint hope that the last round might actually be the simplest, this time. She had learned a great deal in the past couple years, after all, and even her father seemed to approve of her progress in training lately, though he hadn't said anything. She was starting to actually be good at her clan's arts!

And here she was, facing an opponent that turned those arts into a disadvantage.

The Rain-nin across from her laughed, completely hidden in a shifting mist that fogged both his body and his chakra into an indistinguishable blur. "You should give the match up," he called. "Maybe you'll even get points for knowing when the opponent is too strong to beat."

That annoyed her and she frowned. "That would only be true if my objective were expendable or a distraction," she pointed out sharply. "Neither of those conditions is set, here."

And no un-sealed child of Hyuuga dared surrender, in any case.

The seal, always the seal, and she didn't even know where it came from yet! She gritted her teeth, pushing her Byakugan harder, trying to see past the mist of dispersed and refracted light and chakra. The blur was giving her a headache just to look at. She tensed as it rushed toward her and stepped forward to meet it, spinning on her good leg to catch anything that might be coming. A fist glanced off her arm, and a foot caught her weak knee, and she went down with a gasp, rolling clear to come back up spitting dirt and twice as angry as before.

There had to be a way! Some way to see!

...gift of our clan is not sight alone, or even first. Rather, it is understanding.

Hinata could almost see the page in front of her, the slanting strokes of Hyuuga Ririko's words, of the blind clan head who had written so powerfully of the vision, not the eyes, that Hyuuga passed down generation on generation.

Control the space.

Hinata dodged aside from another rush and chewed on her lip, thinking furiously. She knew the human body, knew it better than anyone but a medic might. She knew where to strike and how, whether she could see or not. If she could just find her opponent in the middle of that fog of...

Her eyes widened.

She could do it. It would work. The plan settled in her mind and she knew it, like she knew the weight of her own kunai. But... Her eyes flicked up to find her father in the galleries, and Hanabi beside him. She was sure he wouldn't approve. Would think it was another failure. What if...

"Hinataaaaaa! Kick his ass! You can do it!"

The yell pulled her gaze over to the next gallery, where Naruto was half standing on the rail, waving his arms as Sasuke-kun kept a casual grip on the back of his jacket to keep him from going over. Determination sparked through her heart again; doubt hadn't stopped Naruto! And behind him... behind him was Neji-niisan, standing still and quiet, arms folded. Their eyes met for a single breath, and he nodded to her, firm and confident. Warmth wrapped around her heart and she straightened with a slow breath.

And released her Byakugan.

A rustle like wind through the leaves passed around the galleries. "Ha! You forfeit?" her opponent called.

"Not at all," Hinata answered calmly. The headache had eased as soon as she released her sight and she let her eyes unfocus too, watching the small bank of mist but not trying to penetrate it.

Merely watching where it moved.

And she'd been right. Without the distraction of details, of seeing the shifting chakra laced through that blind of mist, she could see that it always 'faced' toward her in exactly the same orientation, even as the Rain-nin circled, as if it were a stiff form he pulled along with him.

The sound of his steps, though, said that he was moving to the side of that masked space.

She smiled and kept her eyes open—no sense giving him a hint by closing them. But she spread her attention out to her other senses, just the way she spread her sight out to see the whole field of movement when she and Neji sparred. She could hear the faint scuff of his feet, feel the shift of air as he moved the mist bank, and she stood, stable and relaxed, and waited.

Another rush, and this time she swore she could feel his steps, through the air and the ground, and she turned lightly to meet him. His arm was high, his knee was against hers, and it was so simple to step and turn and strike, hard and sure, hand open and precise as befit a daughter of her clan.

The chakra mist raveled away under the sun and Hinata stood, breathing slow and deep, with her opponent crumpled at her feet.

A roar went up from the galleries, and the referee appeared beside them to turn the Rain-nin over and check him. "Unconscious, but uninjured," he reported to the approaching medic, and glanced up at Hinata. "Smooth." While Hinata was still blushing, he raised his voice and declared her the winner.

She stole a look up at the galleries, at Naruto, who was jumping up and down and waving his clasped hands over his head; at Neji-niisan, who was smiling, faint and satisfied; hesitantly, a little fearfully, at her father. Who nodded to her a fraction, expression cool but not disapproving. She released a silent breath of relief and made her shaky knees support her up the stairs to the examinees' gallery.

Where Kiba caught her up in a hug and swung her in laughing circles until Kurenai-sensei scolded him to let her get a look at Hinata's knife cuts. Hinata was laughing too, though.

She'd done it.

Not even the news, three days later, that she had passed and was promoted could quite compare to that first moment of knowing and triumph.

Hinata sat at the table in the archive room with her head on her folded arms, the last journals spread out around her.

She had her answers now. She knew where the seal had come from and why. She had read from start to finish, from the beginning to the present, and having reached the present she had arrived at the end of other people's words and understanding.

Now she had to make her own.

A shiver ran through her. She had to act, and she was afraid to. Afraid because she knew what she wanted to do but had no idea whether her father would agree. Whether her sister, after him, would agree. Whether this was even possible to dream of.

But she was the one who knew. And so she was the one who must act.

A faint sob caught in her throat, and she huddled closer in on herself. She was so afraid. But the weight of twenty generations was behind her, and she knew them now, felt them. And, set aside or not, she was a daughter of the main house; it was her duty and no other's.

She twitched upright at the soft scrape of the door opening.

"Hinata? It's time to eat soon..." Her mother looked in and frowned, coming across the room to lay a hand on her head. "Hinata, are you well?"

Hinata summoned up a smile for her mother, afraid that it was still rather drawn. "I'm well Haha-ue. I just have a bit of a headache from my reading, I think."

Headache, heartache, it was close enough, surely.

"Well, come out of this close room for a while, then," her mother ordered, chivvying her out the door. "Eat a little and have a walk, and see if that doesn't help. You've been spending so much time here, I'm not really surprised. You have to remember to take care of yourself, even when the research is calling!"

Hinata went meekly, casting only one last glance behind her before she closed the door on the archives.

What she had to do next moved beyond this room.

It took over a week to nerve herself to the only course of action she thought had a chance of working, and another two before she and Neji were home at the same time. She crept through the halls of the compound, tiptoeing around patches of moonlight from the windows, until she reached Neji-niisan's door and could tap delicately on it. She had to tap twice before he heard and came to open it with a small frown.

"Who is... Hinata-sama?" His brows rose. He wore a sleeping robe and he'd taken off his forehead protector and her eyes flickered up once to the seal, clear and dark on his forehead.

"May I come in?" she whispered.

One brow rose higher, but he stood aside and slid the door closed behind her. "Is something wrong?" he asked, eyes lingering on her hands, and she realized she was twisting them together. She took a deep breath.

"Neji-niisan, would you... would you let me try to take the seal off you?"

For the first time since they'd been five or six, Neji completely lost countenance and stared at her in clear shock. "Take the... but... Hinata-sama, what are you saying? That's," he swallowed and finished, husky, "that's not possible."

"It is," she insisted, firm with the surety of her years of research and the copied counter-seals tucked into her sleeve tonight. "I found it, in the archives. Where it came from. Why we used it. It isn't what anyone thinks!" She took a breath and lowered her voice again. "And it was made with a counter-seal that cancels it."

His fingers brushed over the mark on his forehead before he clenched them and lowered his hand. "It's good of you to attempt this, Hinata-sama," he said, very level, "but it would only be re-made."

"That's... I..." her fingers tightened on each other again. "I want this for more than just you. I want it for the whole clan. But I need to know for sure that the counter-seal works, first, that there wasn't anything left out of the records about this." She lowered her eyes to stare at the mats, at his bare feet under the hem of his pale robe. "It isn't just that I know you want to be free. It isn't just that you... you've helped me so much. My reasons aren't that kind or... or good. It's that I know you want this enough to try, even if there's a risk of it not working or going wrong. And if it doesn't work, I'm fairly sure you'll keep quiet while I keep looking." She didn't want him to think better of her than she deserved.

She looked up, startled, when he laughed.

"You still think like the clan heir," he murmured, smiling crookedly, and her face heated with formless shame. He shook his head. "That isn't a bad thing." He looked at her in the half-light for a long, thoughtful moment. "If you're talking of the whole clan, then I imagine you have a plan. Under-thinking a thing has never been your weakness."

Hinata nodded, hesitantly.

Neji-niisan nodded back, looking quite calm. "Very well. If you think this has a reasonable chance, I'll be your test subject. What do you need?"

She swallowed, twice as nervous now that it had come down to the actual technique. "I need to write the counter-seal on you, on your chest." And, having read the records of the eighteenth head of the clan, she had her suspicions why. They would see if she was right. Neji merely nodded and moved over to sit with his legs folded in the fall of moonlight from his narrow window, shrugging his sleeping robe off his shoulders and down to his waist.

Hinata took a deep breath, and then another, concentrating on the movement of her diaphragm, the slow slide of oxygen into her blood, letting the familiarity of it still the trembling in her hands. Slowly and carefully she knelt in front of Neji-niisan, taking the copy of the technique out of her sleeve to read over one more time. She took brush and a slim stone bottle of ink out of the thigh pouch she'd worn under her own indoor kimono and dipped the brush and took one more breath for courage. She rested one hand lightly on Neji-niisan's straight shoulder and bent to trace the counter-seal, character by character, over his heart, careful to keep the radiating lines of it at precise intervals so that they would cross the proper tenketsu in the proper order. Neji was still under her hands, tranquil as if he were meditating.

"All right," she said at last. "Now the activation." She nibbled on her lip and asked again, "You're sure...?"

Neji nodded, eyes dark. "I'm sure."

Of course he was sure. He hated the seal. That was why she had chosen him for this, that and the surviving shadow of trust between them. Hinata laid down her brush on a fold of soft paper and closed her eyes for a moment; this was it. After this there would be no going back. She clung to the knowledge of what she'd found in the archives and brought her hands together in the Ram.

Seal followed seal, Horse and Tiger and Bird and Boar and Bird, on through the full set of thirty-seven. She shaped each one carefully, smoothly, concentrating her chakra on the form of the counter-seal and the building energy of it. And with the final Bird she felt the quick drain on her chakra, like water past a broken dam, and heard Neji gasp. Her eyes flew open, sudden panic breaking past her calm. Had it worked, had it gone wrong, was he all right?

Neji-niisan sat in front of her, eyes wide in the dim room, one palm pressed over his chest. His forehead was unmarked.

"It's gone," she whispered.

"It is," he agreed, husky. "I felt it come undone." They stared at each other for a long moment, neither daring to stir, both maybe a little shocked by how swift and simple it had been. When he did move, at last, it was to gather up her hand and kiss her ink-stained fingers softly. "Whether this works or not, Hinata-sama," he said quietly, head still bowed. "I will always thank you for this moment."

Another time, she might have blushed at such a gesture from Neji, the clan's most brilliant son. In this moment, though, it was all she could do to catch back a tiny gasp of fear at the thought of what she had to to next, stifling it desperately, though she couldn't keep her fingers from clinging to his. "Can you hide it?" she asked, a little shaky. "I want to try to find a good time to speak with my father about this."

His mouth pulled into a crooked smile at the manifest unlikelihood of that that, but he nodded. "I can hide the seal's absence as well as I usually hide the seal itself."

"Thank you." She swallowed, hands trembling as she stuffed her materials back into her pouch. "I... I should get back to my room." He started to say something, one hand lifted toward her, but stopped and nodded silently and escorted her back to the door with a careful hand on her arm. He watched after her, eyes shadowed and thoughtful, as she stumbled down the hall in a daze. Only one thought was clear in her mind.

She was really going to do this thing.

She fell asleep that night praying fervently that the spirits of her ancestors, all the ones she'd spent so long reading and trying to understand, would favor her in what she needed to do next.

It took over a month to find her time. She kept going to the archives every night she was home, partly so no one would ask why she had stopped, but partly to read over the records of the eighteenth clan head again and hold those words to her like a talisman against fear.

Because, of course, what she'd finally realized was that she couldn't possibly speak to her father about this alone. If she did that, he would almost certainly ignore her, and tell himself it was for the good of the clan to keep things just the way they were. No. Not alone. There would have to be witnesses.

Ideally, the entire clan.

So she told over the words of the last few generations to herself and memorized the counter-seal line for line, and waited until the waiting and the secret she carried with her wound together into a hard, dark weight in her chest.

The negotiation of a marriage contract to an outsider involved only the principles and the clan head, but they never went forward until the whole clan had a chance to meet the prospective incomer. The Hyuuga were not as numerous as the Uchiha had been, and small quarrels had torn shinobi clans apart in the past.

And, of course, any outsider must know of the clan's seal, and agree to take it for themselves and their children.

Fushiyama Ran seemed a little troubled by the idea, but had, in the end agreed. And she mingled easily with the rest of the clan. Hinata thought it very likely she would be approved; Hinata's mother, the strongest of the clan in the healing techniques and their best medical researcher, said that Fushiyama's blood carried nothing that would harm a child she bore to Hyuuga.

The hard weight of Hinata's duty to her clan sat behind her breastbone all through the afternoon and evening.

As the welcome feast wound to its close, in bottles of sake for many, Hinata shifted on her cushion at her father's far side. "Chichi-ue," she murmured, "I would speak to the clan of some history I've found in the archives, if you'll allow." When he raised a brow at her, she clasped her hands in her lap so they wouldn't tremble. "I have found some very great things in our past. A time of celebration seems appropriate to remember them."

His expression turned from questioning to tolerant, and he rose. "Very well, then."

She didn't hear a great deal of what he said to call the attention of the clan; she was trying to make the sudden butterflies in her stomach and the tips of her fingers go away. When her father gestured to her, she managed to stand and walk out into the center of the hall on steady legs at least. She raised her head and looked around at the crowd of eyes so like her own, and took a breath.

"I have read in the archives of our clan, and found much pride in the history written there," she started, voice husky despite all her attempts to raise it this once. The rustle and clinking of cups hushed courteously for her, and she took another breath, folding her hands. "We are an ancient bloodline, as all know," she went on more steadily. "This is our twenty-first generation as a noble clan, and our history reaches back even before that. But we have grown and changed over that time as well. In the scrolls and journals, I found that some of our traditions are new." She had to swallow before she could go on. "Indeed, the seal of our clan is only four generations old."

A startled murmur ran around the hall, and her father's mouth tightened faintly. He didn't stop her, though. Hinata held tight to that.

"In my reading, I found the journal of the eighteenth clan head, Akemi. It was she who developed the seal. It was made for times of war." She snuck a quick glance around; some looked startled still, but others were nodding thoughtfully. "It was made to give our clan strength, so that none need fear being forced to give up clan secrets, even in death; so that none need fear betrayal by their own blood, or fear to be turned against their clan and village. It was made to let us fight with our whole hearts and souls, without reservation." The hall was still around her, and she could see shoulders straightening at her words—but she could see that many eyes were also shadowed, in the lantern light.

"This too, I found." Now her voice was husky with something besides nerves. "In that first generation, when peace returned, the seal was removed."

The stillness broke into sharp rustling and muffled exclamations. Even the head table stirred. Hinata avoided her father's eyes and hurried on. "The nineteenth clan head made the decision that war was coming too often to allow the seal to lapse, but Akemi, who created it, wrote this: The bonds of clan are silk, spun from heart to heart. They are strong but not proof against all; when the fires of war threaten, we will wrap them in the steel of this curse seal that the clan may survive anything that comes with whole hearts. When the cool of peace returns, we may strip back the steel and let the silk fly free again, for it is the silk that lets a clan grow strong enough to bear the steel.

"In the archives, I found the technique for releasing the seal," Hinata said into the absolute silence of the hall, and held out her hands toward her father, pleading. "Chichi-ue... we have been at peace for almost twenty years! I beg you, will you not hear the wisdom of the eighteenth head, and undo the steel now?"

Her father laid his hands flat on the table, and his face was stern. "In your own lifetime, Hinata, we have had proof that the seal is still needed to guard our secrets from other villages."

"It was not the seal that protected me," Hinata whispered. "It was my father."

"The seal was what allowed us to avoid war and yet protect our bloodline," her father answered, inflexible. "Even without war, the life of shinobi is one of risk. The seal protects us." A shade softer, he added, "My daughter, you must see how suspect your position is, knowing that you will be marked yourself when Hanabi inherits."

Hinata met her sister's eyes for a moment, and the blank lack of response there made her shudder—no hope, no reprieve, no love showed in Hanabi's gaze, only determination without heart. "How can you not see this is killing us?" she burst out. "My sister's heart is dead! I would have died at the hands of my cousin if not for the intervention of outsiders! All because of that seal!"

"Hinata," her father said, voice flat with denial of her words, "calm yourself and sit down."

The memory of Naruto waving his arms to cheer her on during her exam flashed before her mind's eye. Never give up. She inhaled hard, hands clenched, increasingly wild thoughts of what she might do next circling in her mind.

And then Neji stood. "Hinata-sama." He paced gravely around the end of his table and out into the center of the hall, toward her. "You must calm yourself, Hinata-sama," he said quietly, as he came, and her heart wrenched at that completely unexpected echo of her father.

Until he came close enough for her to see the wicked glee hovering at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"Calm yourself," he repeated. "You are not alone." He sank gracefully down to kneel at her feet in full salute, and his voice dropped clearly into the utter silence that gripped the hall. "Hyuuga Hinata-sama. I will follow you, and only you."

A roar like surf swept the hall and Hinata's father rose swiftly to his feet. "Neji!" His hand closed and flickered, half hidden by his sleeve.

Nothing, of course, happened, and hush rippled out from the head table, whispers following after.

Neji raised his head and looked over his shoulder with a not entirely nice smile. "You tried to force me, didn't you? It will do no good. Not anymore." He stood and tugged off his forehead protector, and the whispers turned to hisses of shock at his unmarked forehead. "Did you think Hinata-sama would offer such a thing without confirming it?" he asked, mildly. "She has freed me. Even after I attempted, in all sincerity, to take her life, she freed me." His stance shifted and he added, voice darker, "This is the lady who would free our whole clan. I will serve and protect her with my life."

"Neji, don't—!" Hinata gasped. The very last thing she wanted was to see her clan fighting over this, let alone over her.

"Hush, Hinata-sama," Neji told her, and the smile was back in his voice, though he didn't take his eyes off the head table and was still poised in front of her. "I swore to protect you when we were barely walking, before the seal ever touched me. You've simply proven that I was right to do so."

"Silk." Fushiyama Ran stood from the right-hand table, eyes wide as she stared at Hinata. "Your eighteenth head said it. The bonds of silk are what make a clan live, make them strong enough to bear the steel." She reached down and caught Hiroko's hand urgently. "This is true loyalty. This, I can give my life and the lives of my children to!" She and Hiroko exchanged a long speaking look, and even in the midst of tension and anger Hinata wished, wistfully, that someday she might find someone whose heart could speak to hers that way. Hiroko rose slowly and wrapped his arm around Ran's shoulders.

"Sometimes," he said softly, "an outside view sees clearest. Even with our vision," he added, rueful. A huff of laughter answered him here and there, and he met Hinata's eyes for a long moment. "I don't think there's any question that your heart lives, Hinata-sama," he said. "And if Neji will serve you, then perhaps the rest doesn't matter. You have the strength to release the seal. Let that be enough." He led Ran around the table and knelt down in front of it. "Hinata-sama, we will follow you, and our children after us."

"My children..." the whisper was from more than one mouth, and slid around the room like a breeze. One after another, four more women stood and came out into the hall to kneel and bow their heads to Hinata. In fits and starts, their husbands joined them, two with the speed of desperate relief. A knot of the unwed men a double handful of years older than Hinata herself followed. Panic fluttered under her ribs. She'd only meant to convince her father, not start a revolution!

Or a civil war.

Remembering some of the other things she'd read in the archives, of generations split against themselves, she spun back to the head table, hand stretched out in entreaty again. "Please," she whispered. Her father stood staring at the hall, just as shocked as she. It was her sister who slowly stood and came out to face her.

Hanabi's eyes were as shuttered as ever, and Hinata waited, biting her lip, with no idea how this moment would turn.

"You would really never set the curse seal on anyone again?" Hanabi asked, almost without expression.

This, at least, Hinata had already thought on. "Only by consent, and only in extremity," she said firmly. "It was made for a reason, a good one. But never as a weapon against our own clan." She hesitated and added, low, "And if it marked anyone in a team, in a family, in the clan... it must mark all. Including those of the main house. When it was first made, no one went unprotected. Or unrestrained."

"You've thought this out," Hanabi noted, and looked down at her toes for a long moment. "All right." She looked back up and added, "You're still weaker than me. But all right."

Hinata let out a shaking breath, stunned by unlooked for hope, and reached out timidly. "Hanabi... may I hug you? Please?" She hadn't for so very long.

Finally, the flatness of Hanabi's stare broke for a moment, and she stepped hesitantly closer. "I... guess so."

Hinata gathered her up in a tight hug, swallowing hard. "I never wanted you to hurt because of me," she whispered as tears prickled under her lids. "I never wanted to control or rule over you. I swear."

Slowly, haltingly, Hanabi's arms came up to close lightly around her. "You... really want to take care of everyone," Hanabi whispered back.

"Yes. Yes, exactly. Everyone. You too." Hinata dared to stroke Hanabi's sleek, soft hair.

Hanabi sniffed at that. "I expect I'll end up taking care of you. Me and Neji-san." She stayed close for another moment, though, before she pulled away, and she had the faintest of smiles curling up the corner of her mouth when she looked up and added, "Ane-ue."

Hinata had to wipe her eyes hastily. "I'm glad you will." She looked up at their father, feeling a deeper calm in her heart, now. "Chichi-ue," she said, and this time her voice filled the hall, husky as it was. "I beg you again to hear the wisdom of Akemi, eighteenth head of our clan, your great grandmother. The seal is a great strength, but it will weaken us if we let it become a crutch. Please. Let it be released while there is peace."

He swept a glance around the room, at the people who had come forward in support of her, and said dryly, "It appears I have small choice, unless I wish to split the clan." Hinata winced, and he snorted softly. "Very well. I will examine the documents you have found and consider how this might be done. And," he added, more dryly yet as a whisper of excitement spun around the hall, "it also appears that my eldest daughter will once again be our heir. Congratulations, Hinata."

"I didn't mean..." she said in a tiny voice, and he waved a hand as if to brush the words away.

"You did well."

On that stunning statement, he turned and paced calmly from the room.

As some of Hinata's more distant cousins came forward to ask eagerly after how this could be done, whether it was really true, Neji rested a hand on her shoulder and said very quietly. "Remember. I follow you and no other, now."

That support and responsibility settled around her shoulders and she straightened under them. Neji-niisan believed in her. They could never get back the past, the sweetness of their childhood, she knew that, but he had never stopped being her dearest cousin. His support meant something. "I'll remember," she promised.

He smiled and stood at her back as she faced her clan and tried to find answers for them.

Hinata made her way down the hall to the archives, one finger tracing down the lists in her hands. The archives were the right place for these, surely, even if her father hadn't officially decided yet.

Haruka wanted his seal removed, but his partner, Kanon, wanted to keep hers so the seal's trigger needed to be kept from Haruka for now. Arata wanted to keep his, which made perfect sense to Hinata given how much time he spent working at the borders, but he wanted his son's removed immediately until the boy was old enough to make his own choice.

And that brought up the question of when the choice should be made. Hinata supposed it would have to be at twelve, on academy graduation. And under what circumstances should the clan head be able to command it? Only in war? During any mission into non-allied territory? She sighed as she pushed open the archive doors, eyes on her lists.

"Difficulties, daughter?" her father's voice asked.

Hinata looked up, startled. Her father was in the archives, with Akemi's journals spread around him; she recognized them. He was also waiting for an answer. "Oh... well, yes. Or, at least, complications. I suppose that was to be expected." She came and offered him the lists. "This is a record of everyone's wishes regarding their seals. I can see already there will have to be some compromises, and some new policies about how and when the seal is called for." She hesitated, eyes falling. "If... if you approve it, that is."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Sit, Hinata." When she'd pulled up another chair, he waved a hand at the journals. "You made a good point, and Akemi had more. I believe that you spoke for the good of the clan, as you see it." At her soft sigh of relief, he smiled just a little. "Once I calmed down, I remembered how long you've spent in here. Were you looking for information on the seal all along, or did that come to you as you went?"

Hinata nibbled her lip, hands laced together on the table. "I started out looking for the seal. I wanted to know how we came to use it. And as I went on and there was such a long time when we didn't... I started to think perhaps it wasn't nearly as central as we feel it is now. Perhaps it shouldn't be." She nodded at the journals beside them under the amber lamplight. "When I came to Akemi-san's journals, I was sure. But... I was sure because of everything else I'd read before then." She looked up to meet her father's eyes. "We have been many things, over the generations of our clan, Chichi-ue. We have changed, often and greatly. We have bred ourselves and killed ourselves and fought each other for power and for love. We have had leaders of great vision and leaders who were blind. I believe we have become narrow, over these last few generations under the pressure of the great wars. I fear we have turned away from much that we could be."

Her fathers brows had risen along with her voice, as she spoke more and more passionately. "Indeed," he murmured at last. "You are not lacking in vision, that much is clear." He nodded toward the lists. "How, then, would you deal with those?"

Slowly, Hinata pulled her thoughts together. "The seal was made to support us in danger. At war, in enemy territory. I believe it should still be used then. And if any of our clan wish for it, to keep our secrets safe, they should have it." She took a deep breath. "But it must not be the main house's way of controlling the rest of the clan. That's wrong. It creates division, when we need unity!"

"There will always be division," he said, more gently than she expected, "but I understand your point." It was his turn to hesitate, but at last he said, quietly. "There is justice in it." He reached out to touch one of the journals. "Silk as the foundation for steel. Not the other way around. Akemi-san was wise."

There was sadness in the still line of his mouth, the darkness of memory in his eyes, and she reached out impulsively to touch his sleeve. "I'm sure your brother loved you," she said, soft and shy. "Even as Neji-niisan and I still love each other despite it all."

She wasn't sure why that made him chuckle, but at least the sadness was gone. "He's certainly loyal to you." She blushed, and he patted her shoulder and stood. "Keep those lists a while, daughter. Study them. I will wish to hear your proposals for how to address them." He looked down at her with a tiny smile. "After all, you'll be the one who has to deal with the system you come up with."

Hinata stared up at him, stunned by that subtle vote of confidence in her as heir, and broke into a brilliant smile. "Yes, Chichi-ue!"

She had succeeded. And now... now she had to keep going.

For once, the thought didn't make her afraid.

Hinata had been aware that leading the Hyuuga clan involved a lot of training and overseeing the development of their arts. She had known that it involved overseeing every negotiation for marriage or children, consulting the line records and the clan's medics to ensure as few stillbirths as possible. She had even been aware, in a general sort of way, that the clan head was the custodian of a great deal of property held by the clan as a whole.

She hadn't quite realized that there would be so much bank paperwork involved, though.

She added and subtracted carefully down the rows of tiny figures to confirm that the final figure was correct, and cross-referenced with the clan's own paperwork for that quarter, the records of rents and produce. When she was finally sure it all matched, she took the seal her father had left with her and carefully stamped the bottom of the page.

And then it was time for the next page.

She was reasonably sure that her father was not petty enough to have given her this work as some kind of revenge. It was clear that this really was something that had to be done. But she couldn't help feeling that he was getting a certain satisfaction out of teaching her this particular task.

"Ane-ue!" Hanabi pushed the door of the office open and leaned in. "Chichi-ue wants you. He's in the room by the south gardens."

Hinata smiled. "Thank you, Hanabi-chan." Her sister made a face at the pet-name, which Hinata had started using again, despite Hanabi having just graduated from the Academy. Hinata wanted to regain something they'd lost a long time ago, though, and for all Hanabi's face-making, she never told Hinata not to.

Hinata cleaned her brush as Hanabi ran back toward the training hall, and made her way through the dim, quiet corridors to the large room that faced onto the water gardens at the south of the compound.

Her father and Neji-niisan were both there.

"You wished to see me, Chichi-ue?" Hinata asked, sliding the inner door closed behind her.

"Indeed." Her father sounded rather dry as he waved a hand at the cushion beside him. "Neji has something to report about his latest mission, and feels he can only report to you."

Hinata blushed and hurried to settle herself on the cushion. "Neji-niisan," she protested softly.

"You are my lady," he said, quite imperturbable. "I would hardly report to another."

Hinata blushed and stole a glance at her father. He seemed peculiarly amused by this insistence of Neji's; she supposed she was glad for that, but she did wonder why. His glance in return reminded her that this was, in a way, another lesson, and she straightened with a breath. "You have something of significance to the clan, to report, then?" she asked Neji-san.

"I had occasion to speak with your voice, on this mission," he said soberly. "My team was with Kakashi-san's, attempting to retrieve the Kazekage from Akatsuki, and we encountered Uchiha Sasuke's brother." He frowned. "For a madman, Itachi argued like an Elder. First he insinuated that I should be helping him, for the sake of the alliance between Uchiha and Hyuuga. When I pointed out that doesn't apply to outlaws, he said he wasn't; that he couldn't be, because Sasuke was the only one left to pronounce it and he'd never been recognized as the head of Uchiha." Neji-niisan cut a questioning look toward her father, who made a thoughtful sound.

"Indeed, he wasn't. At the time of the massacre, of course, he was too young, but it's true that his confirmation should have come up when he graduated. In the absence of any other heir, Sasuke had the right as soon as he was a working shinobi." He frowned, tapping a finger against his knee. "Perhaps the Third only thought it would be unnecessary pressure, but perhaps..." His lips tightened. "Go on."

"I could tell that point disturbed Sasuke," Neji-niisan continued, pointedly speaking to Hinata. "So, under battlefield exigencies, I spoke on your behalf to recognize him." He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't doubt the Fifth will agree to confirm him, and if she does, and the other noble clans agree, then it will stand. It focused Sasuke again, at any rate, and he declared Itachi outlaw."

Hinata pressed a hand over her heart. "That must have hurt him," she said, soft but sure. Sasuke had always scared her a little, so quiet and so focused, and yet blazing with naked wrath like his clan's own fire. That passion could never have come from an uncaring heart. She looked up at her father. "Chichi-ue, if we are allies with Uchiha, we should see Sasuke-kun confirmed. It's only right, since he's taken up the responsibility, even when it's so heavy."

Her father seemed to come back from his own thoughts, mouth quirking a bit as he glanced down at her. "You do, hm?"

She nodded, trying not to quail at that look.

"Well," he murmured, eying Neji-niisan, "since the motion was made in your name, perhaps you should take the case to the Hokage yourself."

Tsunade-sama couldn't possibly be as intimidating as her father was. Hinata only had to take a single breath before she could nod steadily. "All right."

"There's one thing more," Neji-niisan said quietly. "Itachi said that Uchiha Madara was still alive, and that he is the will behind Akatsuki."

Her father's habitual stillness turned frozen. "Madara," he breathed, after a long moment. "And the Senju's ruling blood too diluted to stand against him again, save for Tsunade-sama."

"There are other bloodlines in this village than the Senju," Neji-san returned, eyes level on her father.

"Indeed." His eyes were distant again. "Hinata. Take the case for Sasuke's confirmation to the Hokage as soon as possible. And then..." he reached over to close his hand on hers. "Then there are some techniques I must teach you, the arts our clan holds against the darkness in the Uchiha."

The very idea that she might have to face Uchiha Madara sent a chill of fear down her spine, but it was countered, here and now, by the warmth and pride that he was willing to teach her like his heir again. She straightened her back and her voice was clear, if low, when she answered, "Yes, Chichi-ue."

Neji-san was smiling, and that warmed her too.

Neji-san was downright smirking two weeks later, when their training session was interrupted by a visit from Uchiha Sasuke.

"Was this your idea?" he asked Neji-niisan as he brushed through the doors of the training hall, waving a scroll marked with the Hokage's seal at him.

"Only in the field," Neji-niisan answered a bit smugly. "If that's the declaration I think it is, you may thank Hinata-sama for it."

Sasuke raised his brows at her and Hinata brushed back long, damp strands of hair from her face. "Chichi-ue suggested I be the one to raise the issue officially," she agreed, still a bit breathless. "You've taken up the work; you should have the title and whatever recognition or support goes with it. The Hokage agreed." She'd agreed so gleefully, in fact, that Hinata now had a small list of questions to ask her father about the political situation between the Fifth and the village Elders.

"The only support I have now is from outsiders," Sasuke pointed out a bit dryly. Considering who his teammates were, Hinata didn't think he was really discounting that fact, so she smiled.

"I'm glad to have been of assistance, then."

Sasuke cocked his head, looking at her frank and curious. "You've changed."

Hinata thought about the past couple years, about the weight of her clan that she felt behind her just about every day now. Suddenly, she wondered if Sasuke felt that kind of weight too, if that was what had driven his burning passion for so long. The shadows behind his eyes and the tension at the corners of his mouth looked familiar, now. It was this that led her to answer, "Hyuuga and Uchiha are still allies."

The long, slow breath he drew looked very familiar indeed, and she met his eyes gravely when he finally looked up again. "Yes," he agreed, quiet and formal. "We are allies, still." He looked down at the scroll in his hand and smiled wryly, the formality dropping away again. "Thanks."

Neji-niisan was giving her a soft, approving look, and Hinata's cheeks heated a little as she smiled back. Her oldest friend believed she could do this.

She was starting to believe she could do this, too.

Rumor had been running through the village for months, among the shinobi and civilians both, stirred up afresh with each new scrap of news. Gossip and tension simmered hotter as Akatsuki attacked host after host, and today Hinata thought both had reached a boil. It seemed to her that half the shinobi of the village were clustered around the mission board in front of the administration building, and she had hung back with her yearmates while Shikamaru-kun pushed through the crowd to get details.

"If this is really a multi-national mission, it must be about Naruto," Ino said, standing on her toes trying to see over the heads of older shinobi.

"Naruto and the remaining Cloud host," Shino corrected quietly. "Most likely."

"I don't see Sakura-san anywhere," Lee put in from the roof above them. "They must have already gotten their assignment."

Finally, Shikamaru hauled himself back out of the murmuring crush in the square, nearly stumbling but for Chouji-kun's quick hand under his elbow. "Air," was the first thing he said, and the whole group joined Lee on the rounded, blue roof of the records office.

"It's the hosts all right," Shikamaru confirmed grimly. "The mission parameters are to provide security for Naruto and Cloud's host in an undisclosed location. Mission time is listed as months, so it probably won't last more than a year, but I'm guessing this could be a long-term one. Risk is listed as very high; it's an A rank mission, even with a dozen or twenty people being called for."

"They must expect at least some of Akatsuki to get through to this mission, then," Neji-niisan said, arms folded.

"Or at least they're preparing for that," Tenten agreed, absently sharpening one of her scythes.

"Akatsuki will get a nasty surprise when they run into us." Kiba lounged back on the roof with a toothy smile.

Shikamaru-kun shook his head sharply. "Not all of us. If the location is undisclosed, they're hoping to hide the hosts, and that means the villages must be hunting Akatsuki in their own territories. Some of us had better stay, too."

Hinata chewed her lip; a hide-out would be in great need of scouts to watch the approaches, but the hunting teams would need them just as badly. "Shikamaru-kun," she asked at last, "where would my team be best placed, in this?"

Kiba leaned up on an elbow, blinking. "Isn't that for Kurenai-sensei to say?"

"Kiba!" Hinata exclaimed. "Surely you've noticed! Or at least Akamaru must have!" She knew her mother sometimes muttered insulting things about men's observational abilities, but surely...

Akamaru panted smugly and Kiba turned a little red. "Well, I mean, of course I have, but...!"

"Even if the medical rules won't take Kurenai-sensei off duty for another month, the long duration of this mission suggests she will be disqualified to go," Shino noted.

"Wait, wait, wait." Shikamaru was looking back and forth between them. "Off duty? You mean Kurenai-san is..." he waggled his fingers in the vicinity of his stomach.

Hinata frowned a little. "Don't gossip about it," she said firmly, in defense of her teacher, "but yes."

"Oh fuck." Shikamaru's elbows thumped down on his knees and his hands fell into his meditative position. "Asuma-san will be totally distracted, and he'll never agree to leave now, that means it's probably Genma-san along with Kakashi-san; there're rumors Genma was kind of friends with the Two-tails' host..." He frowned into the distance for long moments while the rest of them waited quietly. "All right," he said at last. "Hinata, your team should go with Naruto. It will be unfamiliar ground, and you're one of the best scouting teams; we can manage here without you, we've got the territory advantage. I need to stay, and I want Chouji here, but the mission will need as many sharp thinkers and strategists as possible to coordinate a mess like that against Akatsuki. Sakura will be sticking tight to Naruto." He looked up at his other teammate, eyes steady. "Ino. It'll have to be you."

While Ino blushed a little at this vote of confidence from the best mind among them, Hinata traced the thought further along. With Naruto's team gone, much of the village's raw power would be reduced. And the village must still be guarded. She nodded to herself and spoke quietly. "Neji-san."

Neji-san glanced over at her, brows lifted, and she met his eyes levelly. He would have to stay, he and his team with him, to guard everything she was leaving behind. He straightened slowly as their eyes locked, brows drawing down. "Hinata-sama!"

"You must," she said, calm with the sureness in her heart that she was right. It felt good, to know that he wanted to protect her again, the way he had when they were very small; it made her warm again, whenever she thought about it, warm enough not to need her jacket so often these days. But the fact remained that the greatest strength of Hyuuga belonged here, protecting the village, not out wherever she was going protecting only her. She smiled just for him, tiny and soft, and knew he understood when he blew out a sigh.

"Very well," he said quietly, bending his head a little. "I will stay."

"Thank you." And then she realized that everyone was watching them and looked down at her hands, flustered. When she peeked up through her lashes, Ino was grinning and Tenten's eyes were dancing. Shino rested a calming hand on her back and Chouji-kun gave her a small, approving nod. Shikamaru's smile was crooked.

"That was easier than I was thinking it would be," he murmured. "All right, then, that's us. Ino, see if you can put in a few words with Morino-san. Whoever else goes from Intelligence has to have some heavy-hitting techniques along with sharp eyes." He nodded to Neji-niisan. "You're the only jounin among us yet; if you can spread the idea of a lot of small teams hunting in cooperation, here, I think that's our best configuration to find Akatsuki and still be able to lay hold of the strength to fight them quickly. I'll talk to Asuma-san about the same thing."

A chill ran through Hinata as she thought about being on a remote mission for so long, away from her clan, away from Neji-san's reassurance and company. But she would have her team with her, she would be doing good work for the village. Important work. Work that was worth respect.

She clasped her hands tight and thought that maybe the chill was one of excitement.

When Hinata looked back on that mission, months and years later, she found much to be proud of. She had fought well. She had protected her friend, the boy who had given her an example to follow out of the darkness. She knew she had gained the respect of many of the mission's shinobi, and all of that made warm memories to hold in her heart. But the best of them had almost nothing to do with the mission itself, or with Naruto. The best was of one early morning, standing watch over the island's east side, perched up among the cliffs of the Turtle's shoulder.

They took watches in pairs, on the principle that what deceived the senses of one scout might not catch both. Hinata's partner for this watch was Noburu of Hidden Rock, a chuunin a few years older than she was, very strong in Wind techniques. Strong enough to bend air into lenses and listen along it as though the currents of the wind were strands of a spider's web. He was quiet and professional, and Hinata found him a restful partner.

So she was a little startled when he said, out of nowhere, "You're not what I expected."

She blinked "I beg your pardon, Noburu-san?"

He ran a hand through his short, stiff hair, and looked at her sidelong for a moment. "From a Hyuuga, I mean. I suppose all villages that have ever fought have tales of each other's great clans."

Hinata blushed, twining her fingers together. Was it that obvious, still, that she wasn't up to the standards of a clan heir? She'd tried so hard...

"They say Hyuugas are arrogant," Noburu went on, glancing out over the water. "Arrogant and ruthless. But here you are, heir to the clan, and you're not like that at all." He tossed a small, rueful smile over his shoulder at her. "I suppose that's a lesson not to believe gossip."

The cutting edge of uncertainty abruptly blunted. "You... you really think...?" She looked down at her hands, smiling helplessly. "Thank you."

"You've been as good a watch partner to work with as any from Hidden Rock, Hinata-san," he assured her earnestly.

She couldn't help imagining her father's expression on hearing such a compliment offered to his daughter, and then she couldn't help laughing. "Thank you!" She smiled back at him, hands relaxed in her lap as she knelt on their shelf of stone. "Sometimes, you know, Hyuugas are like that. Arrogant, yes. And ruthless. But that's not all that we are. That's not all that we want to be. It makes me very happy, that you see more than that in us."

"Well." He cleared his throat and turned back to their watch over the ocean. "I'm glad, then."

Hinata turned back to the water also. "I'll remember," she murmured. "When I hear gossip about Hidden Rock, I'll remember, too."

He smiled a little, out over the waves. "Good."

She carried away from that watch the increasingly familiar satisfaction that she was accomplishing the mission her Hokage wished to be accomplished, and the unfamiliar excitement of knowing that a shinobi of another village judged well of her. It made her walk a little straighter, to remember it.

She thought was that it would make Neji-niisan smile, to know about it.

The day Hinata and the rest of the Konoha contingent came back from Cloud's Island Turtle, Neji-niisan was away on a patrol. And, despite the busy hours of debriefing and reporting to her father, despite the small, warm glow of being told she would be at his side to attend the council on Shimura Danzou's fate for ordering an attack on the Leaf's own host, she found herself feeling bereft. She hadn't realized how much she'd depended on the thought of getting back to Neji-san's support, how hard she'd come to lean on that. And despite everything, she found herself trailing around the halls of the compound as if she were searching for something lost.

Which was where Neji finally found her.

"Hinata-sama!"

She could already feel the smile on her face as she turned, and it only got wider when she saw him standing on the engawa behind her. "Neji-niisa—" Her breath caught as he strode forward and caught her up in a tight embrace. She clung to him in return, breathless and startled.

"You're all right," he whispered against her hair, and abruptly slid down to his knees, catching both her hands in his and resting his forehead against them. "My lady."

Hinata stared down at him. "Neji...-san?" The intensity of his greeting startled her.

"They said you were back, but I couldn't find you anywhere I looked," he said softly, not looking up. "And the rumors going around about your mission are... rather wild and full of talk about assassination attempts. Against whom varies, but one version said it was you."

Slowly, her cheeks heated. Neji-san had been that worried? For her?

Since he apparently wasn't going to move, she knelt down with him, knees bumping against his. "I'm all right," she offered, a bit shyly. "I wasn't injured."

He finally met her eyes, smiling a little wryly. "I'm glad. I suppose that was obvious."

She blushed a little deeper, starting to feel as flustered as she used to whenever Naruto was around. The thought made her pause, nibbling her lower lip as she met Neji-san's eyes. They were warm; so warm, for her. Suddenly she felt like the day she'd activated her Byakugan for the first time—the world had gotten deeper and she saw what she hadn't before; her hands tightened on his. "I never thought," she breathed, eyes wide and wondering. She'd never thought she could have this again, her beloved cousin, her first friend, looking at her like this. Not like she was the heir, or a good leader, but like she was Hinata and that was important to him.

Neji-san looked torn, hands tight on hers even as he straightened, as if trying to regain his usual reserve. "Hinata-sama..."

"You never said," she whispered. "Neji-san... why didn't you speak?" When they were very little, she'd assumed that of course she would marry her cousin, her protector, her best friend. When they'd gotten older and her failures and Neji-niisan's bitterness parted them, she'd set the little girl's dream aside because it was too painful. If they could have that back again... why on earth wouldn't he have said? Was there something still in the way?

His looked unaccountably hesitant. "Hinata-sama, I don't... It isn't..." He looked away, face still. "It's always been Naruto for you, hasn't it?" he finally asked, low.

She laughed, soft and unsteady. "I like Naruto," she admitted. "I had a crush for a while, even. And sometimes I've thought, if Haha-ue says it's all right and if Sakura-san and Sasuke-kun don't mind, I might ask for a child of Uzumaki blood. But it's not like that. He doesn't love me. It's... he's... he's an example to me. He lives the way I want to be able to."

Neji-san's hands tightened round hers. "Not quite that loudly, I hope," he said, husky.

"No, not quite that loudly." She nibbled her lip for a moment, looking at her cousin from under her lashes. "Just that bravely, maybe."

She took in a startled breath as Neji's eyes flashed and his hands came up to close around her face. "You are that brave," he told her fiercely. "That's why I chose to follow you. That's why..." he trailed off and cleared his throat, and Hinata was startled and just a tiny bit delighted to see faint color on his cheeks. "That's why I love you," he finished, very quietly.

She felt like a flower was opening in her chest, something unwinding, unfurling, something beautiful and delicate. "Neji-san," she whispered, hushed with sudden happiness and a whirl of warm memories from when they were small, before anything went astray.

When he murmured back, "Hinata," the warmth turned into something soft and heated, and she leaned forward willingly as his hands slid into her hair. It was just a little awkward, kissing on the floor with both of them leaning forward over their knees, and she never wanted to stop.

"I suppose," Neji said eventually, stroking her hair tenderly back over her shoulders, "that I should ask Satomi-obasama to evaluate our boodline in consideration of a possible match. To be proper about it."

"I'd like that," she said, completely unable to stop smiling. "I'd like that very much."

Her father's response was, "It's about time; I did wonder when you'd notice the boy was mooning over you again. Though I suppose flowers are a more usual token than noble titles, for most young men to offer."

"Chichi-ue!" Hinata pressed her hands over her flaming cheeks, wishing she could will them cool. Her father's distinctly amused look didn't help any.

But none of that could make her any less happy.

Her mother was openly delighted by the match, and held forth excitedly at the dinner table about the potential benefits of the cross. "Now, I know you won't want to weary yourself with too many children when you have the whole clan to worry about," she told Hinata, hands moving as if to shape a good gene mix out of the air itself, "but you might retire from the field a little early, you know, and have at least one before your father steps down."

"I'll consider it, Haha-ue," Hinata murmured and took another bite of ginger salad. She added, more sternly, as she caught her mother giving Hanabi a speculative look, "Haha-ue."

"I wasn't going to suggest it," her mother said, defensively enough that Hinata knew she had been thinking about it.

"Hanabi-chan is even more dedicated to the field than I am," Hinata said firmly. "It wouldn't be fair at all." She caught the faint relaxation of her sister's shoulders and patted Hanabi's knee under the table. She wouldn't let anything interfere with her sister's chosen career, certainly not clan breeding plans. Her sister gave her a tiny smile.

Her team took the news fairly well, too, though she hadn't quite figured out how to tell them before Akamaru sniffed her over one afternoon and whined inquiringly. That brought Kiba over to take a good scent from her inner wrist, and then there was yelling of course, but it only took him fifteen minutes to stop shouting about all the ways he was going to maim Neji if he hurt her. Hinata shared a tiny smile with Shino; Kiba was clearly happy for her.

"I'm sure this will please your clan," Shino murmured, standing under their meeting tree beside her as Kiba threw sticks for Akamaru and pretended they were Neji's arms. "Will it please you as well?"

"Very much," Hinata said softly, fingers twined together. "I never thought we could come back here, after everything that happened."

Shino touched her shoulder, and a few of his insects danced around his fingers in a secret smile. "I, on the other hand, am unsurprised."

Hinata blushed.

The best part, though, were the times she and Neji met in the training hall and Neji wedged the door firmly behind him with a length of wood and gathered her up in his arms, burying his face in her hair. And proceeded to complain volubly about the fuss everyone was making.

"...and then Shirou pulled me aside to lecture me on how women were different from men! As if I didn't know that already; it's like they think I don't have a woman on my team. I haven't dared tell Gai-sensei yet. Are you laughing?"

"Oh no," Hinata gasped, giggling pink-cheeked against his shoulder. "No, go on."

"Hmph." The fingers that stroked through her hair were gentle, though. "It suddenly makes far more sense to me, why your mother is so determinedly wrapped up in her medical research. I would wager it started as a way to ward off over-enthusiastic friends and relatives who wanted to fuss over the new consort."

Shyly, unable to help blushing a little, Hinata murmured, "You can always come hide from them in my room, if you want."

He held her closer, laughing. "Now that would give them something more interesting to talk about." He kissed her hair and added softly, "Perhaps I will. We can steal mochi from the kitchen, like we did when we were little, and hide under the covers and talk about which missions we want most."

Hinata snuggled against him, smiling brightly; he remembered those times too.

These were the best parts.

Fortunately for her blushes, and the patience of her betrothed, the village was too busy preparing to meet Uchiha Madara to spare very much time on teasing even newly betrothed nobles.

"Your chakra must flow uninterrupted," her father instructed them as Hinata and Hanabi sat, hands pressed palm to palm. "That flow must circle on itself and leave no opening for another's to be imposed."

Hinata chewed her lip and concentrated on the flow of her chakra from palm to palm. She could maintain a closed circle as long as her hands were touching, braiding the two outward flows together, but as soon as she moved her hands apart she lost it. She heard her father sigh quietly.

"Hinata, practice that for a while. Come here, Hanabi, work on holding the closed chakra flow while you move and strike."

Hinata concentrated harder and resolved to ask Neji for help. Neji was, she'd slowly come to realize, a much better teacher than her father.

Of course, that meant she had to show him the technique, and that meant she had to broach the subject that had been on her mind ever since her father started training them in this jutsu.

"Chichi-ue," she breathed softly, trying not to interrupt her chakra flow.

"Hm?"

"If Madara is expected to attack the village, would it not be wise to teach this to as many of our clan as possible? The more people who can defend themselves from his Sharingan the better, surely?"

"This is a technique of the main house," he answered sharply.

Hinata kept her eyes on her hands. "So it is, Chichi-ue."

It wasn't an agreement.

Her father actually huffed with annoyance. "Turning into quite the revolutionary, aren't you?"

"I speak only of practicality, Chichi-ue," Hinata murmured, braiding her chakra together more tightly and slowly standing. "Only of the good of our clan and village in face of a powerful enemy." She breathed in and out in careful, even rhythm, and stepped slowly across the room taking care with every shift of her weight and chakra. There was a heat in her chest, building with every step, and she spoke out of it. "We should be as strong as we can be!"

After a long, silent moment, her father said, "I will consider it."

Hinata lifted her gaze from her intent concentration on the circle of her chakra to see her sister making a tiny victory sign in front of her chest as their father looked away from her. Hinata promptly lost the technique to a burst of delighted giggles. She didn't even mind when her father shook his head with disapproval. Hanabi was smiling.

Hinata knew her sister was fiercer than she was, fiercer and stronger in combat. In the fire and chaos of the night Madara finally struck, it was Hanabi who went with the teams outside the walls, coursing the forest to find their strange, black and white attackers in the dark, tracking them through earth and wood. That had terrified Hinata for her sister's safety, especially once the casualties started filtering back out of the forest.

And yet, she was glad of it now. She and Neji were the ones who'd been sent to the south gate to aid their Hokage against Madara if they could, and Hinata didn't want her little sister anywhere near him.

Neji knelt on the top of the wall beside her, eyes sharp on Tsunade-sama as she fought Madara. "We're not the only ones who discovered how to repel the Mangekyou Sharingan," he murmured, a breath of humor through the cutting tension of the night. "Look at the Hokage's chakra."

Hinata breathed slowly, carefully keeping her own chakra folded in on itself. Which was not, she couldn't help noting, quite what Tsunade-sama was doing, and her mouth quirked a little. "I think that's just because Tsunade-sama is too strong for him."

Neji made a satisfied sound through his bared teeth, at that. "Probably why he's stopped trying to revive his Amaterasu. I think Sakura can let her counter go."

Hinata glanced aside at Sakura-san, kneeling a few arms lengths away on the wall, Kakashi-san beside her. Sakura's chakra was slowly drawing back from the brilliant flood of the technique that had smothered Amaterasu and let Sasuke-kun through to guard the Nine-tails as it fought Madara's demon. "I think she knows."

Just then, though, Sakura flinched and gasped, "Intruder... first!" The strain in her voice pulled Hinata's shoulders taut. Sakura-san sounded like she could hardly speak! But it was a warning worth fighting to give; if the first wave of attackers, the black and white ones, were coming into this area, all of them were in danger. Those intruders would be coming through the very earth itself. Every clan member watching on the walls or ranging the forest had seen that much.

Though often not until too late.

Hinata bit her lip, thinking hard enough that her chakra flow started to unbraid itself and she had to wrestle it back into the proper knot, stream sliding over stream. There must be something they could do to see further, to guard the Hokage and Naruto inside the Nine-tails!

Sakura-san invoked the pure earth again with her jutsu only to gasp, wavering, off balance as if her strike had been dodged on the training floor. The wild life of Konoha and its land, flowing through Sakura's hands, ran faster still, wild as a river in flood.

A river. A stream. Like the streams of chakra Hinata was directing through and over each other right now. Could she do that with the chakra Sakura held? Slide her own through and over such vast power?

Sakura's own chakra was starting to run ragged; there was no more time, and Hinata took a deep breath for courage. "Neji, watch the Hokage," she whispered. He looked at her sharply and she could almost see the protest hovering on his tongue, but he bit it back, only reaching up to touch her hair with silent, desperate tenderness.

"Be careful," he whispered back, and Hinata added the warmth of those words to her courage.

She turned toward Sakura, releasing her chakra from the flowing knot she'd held and reached out to Sakura instead. "I'll try to see them," she said, soft and determined. "Sakura-san, can you hold on?"

Sakura jerked a nod, and Hinata laid her palms over the major tenketsu of Sakura's forearms, sending her chakra flowing lightly over the flood that ran through Sakura-san's hands. It was like sliding down a rope made of lightning, wild and terrifying and beautiful, and Hinata felt for a breath that there was spirit as well as life in it. Not human spirit, but a soul deep and ancient and wordless and new, changing like the colors of the sky and the surface of a river. "Permit me," Hinata begged, terrified and exhilarated by the vastness of this thing. "Life of our land, Will of Fire, permit me..."

And perhaps she was heard, because her awareness and her chakra slipped over and through that wild flow without drowning or burning, and she heaved in hard, panting breaths as her vision exploded outward. She could see a dozen knots in this stream, all converging on them, but the movement... the movement was strange. As if she saw a single hand drawing into a fist. No, two! "All of them," Hinata gasped. "All of them are coming. But they are only two. Only two that we need to find."

She saw the brightening of Sakura-san's chakra, her agreement. She concentrated harder, biting her lip, focusing the way she'd focused to learn this technique from her father, looking for the two centers approaching. "I see it," she whispered. "I see them! Neji! They're coming for the Hokage!" She pulled away from Sakura-san and the land's life with a gasp and would have staggered as she stood but for Neji's hand under her arm.

"Two of them?" he demanded.

"Coming to bracket Tsunade," Hinata gasped, dizzy.

Neji's chakra unknotted from its defensive flow and pressed against hers, steadying her like his hand on her arm. "Can you do Eight Trigrams, Two Mirrors?"

Hinata swallowed and tried to stand upright. It worked. She nodded to Neji, determined, and he smiled, bright and sharp and proud. "Let's go, then."

They sprang from the wall together, turning in counterpoint as they came down to flank the Hokage, and Hinata felt her breath opening up at the feel of Neji on the other end of this technique, sure as sunrise, there for her to lean against as she set her feet on the earth and drew her chakra in, spinning. This time she wasn't out of control or out of rhythm; this time she had someone to mark the correct time, and her chakra flowed up from her feet, through her center, into her hands in perfect sequence.

She and Neji spun together, and struck as one, her hand against the white creature and his against the black. The attackers blasted back from them, broken, and Hinata saw the flare of Tsunade-sama's chakra between them, triumphant and proud. She was smiling as she and Neji sprang back to leave their Hokage room to strike her enemy, and she saw that Neji was, too. They had done it.

Together, the way the Hyuuga clan should be, they had won.

Jiraiya-sama came to the Hyuuga compound, after it was all over, to ask how she'd thought of the possibility of touching Sakura-san's jutsu, let alone dared to act on it.

"I've never seen anyone but a priestess do something like that and not die of it," he said, watching her keenly over his cup of tea as they sat in one of the outer parlors.

Hinata clasped her hands to keep from shrugging helplessly. She felt very young and inexperienced, facing one of her village's legends, reduced to a child's stature again just by contrast to the square power of his frame. "It seemed like a possible application of the technique I was already using, and a reasonable risk at the time. I knew it would be dangerous, but once I'd touched the chakra she held it felt..." She hesitated. "Well, the records of our ancestors sometimes speak of seeing, not just chakra, but the spirit itself. It seemed to me that Sakura-san was touching the spirit of our land, and perhaps that spirit would help us defend it from attack."

Jiraiya-sama's brows had risen while she spoke, and she nibbled her lip, hoping he wouldn't think her foolish. Even her own clan sometimes gave her odd looks when she said such things. "An unusual approach, for one of your clan," he murmured. "I had thought Hyuuga's training emphasized only the reality of what can be seen directly."

At Hinata's shoulder, where he'd insisted on being for this interview, Neji stiffened. "My lady is the vision of Hyuuga," he stated, giving Jiraiya-sama as dark a look as if he'd questioned Hinata's legitimacy. "What she sees is real."

"Neji." Hinata laid a quick hand over Neji's, glancing at Jiraiya-sama. "Forgive us, Jiraiya-sama, I'm sure you didn't mean..."

Jiraiya-sama was smiling. "I see she is your clan's heart, as well," he said mildly, and Hinata blushed while Neji sat back, looking satisfied.

"It isn't truly that unusual, Jiraiya-sama," Hinata said, more concerned with the defense of her clan than her person. "Over the generations of Hyuuga, this is something that rises over and over again. I only took the example of those who have come before."

"And that's the scale of time you think in, hm?" Jiraiya-sama was still smiling faintly, but he was also watching her with sharp eyes. Hinata just nodded; wasn't that the scale any clan head had to think on? Jiraiya-sama set his cup down and rose. "I will be very interested to see what your vision makes of the Hyuuga." His gaze was warm, as it met hers, and he held out a large, square hand to her. "I think it might be something that hasn't quite been seen before."

Hinata rose also, hesitating a moment; she hadn't ever set out to be any sort of revolutionary, honestly! But finally she lifted her chin and took his hand; hers wasn't as lost in his grip as she'd expected, either. "I will do my very best for the people in my care, Jiraiya-sama. Whatever that turns out to be."

His smile broadened. "Of that, I have no doubt whatsoever."

Hinata thought about the smile Hanabi-chan had given her when she'd left two days ago on her first C-rank mission, and the softness of her voice as she'd promised Hinata she'd be back soon. She thought about her father's lack of surprise when he'd come to tell her that one of the Legendary Three was here to see her. She thought about her oldest friend, standing straight and proud at her shoulder. And, at the bottom of her heart, she found that she didn't doubt it either. She had people to stand beside her when she guided her clan, family and even a beloved who believed in her and the future she worked for. She was reviving her clan with her own hands and will. She would succeed.

And when she found herself thinking that, hearing the thought in her own voice this time and not Naruto's, she could only laugh.

When Hinata was fourteen, she wondered whether she was strong enough to change fate, the way Naruto did.

Four years later, looking back, she knew that she always had been.

End

Complement Art: by the lovely and talented Mitsuhachi Follow Only You, and Will of Fire, Permit Me.

Story Notes:

Language

For the etymologically curious: We have almost nothing, in canon, about the internal structure or address used within the Hyuuga clan, so I borrowed from similar situations in other manga and spent some quality time with the dictionary to invent some background for them. What Neji calls Hinata is ç·é ˜ or souryou, a now archaic term for the eldest child who will carry on the clan name; it has the advantage of having, in some periods, been used as a title for the actual clan lord. My theory is that this is not the usual title for the heir; Neji is using it to make a point about his current loyalties. What Neji and everyone else calls Hiashi is å½“ä¸» or toushu, a similarly rather archaic term for the leader of a family or clan. (That actually is canonical for the noble clans.) The connotations of that one are a little less broad and encompassing than those of souryou or, for that matter, soushu. All of this is a little beside the point, because I've translated the terms, but for those who were wondering about Neji calling Hinata "lady", well, this is the background thought that went into that.

Genetics

This is the model of ninja genetics that I came up with with the gracious help of Fer de Lance (all remaining genetic bloopers are my own).

Ninja talents arise from a wide variety of alleles and their combinations. The most "basic" one is the allele that controls the presence or absence of chakra-manipulation ability, let us call it C. CC results in strong ability, C0 in moderate ability, and 00 in none. In addition to this, there are six other alleles whose presence or absence preconditions what elemental affinities a person has. The first five of these relate to the five basic elements of the Naruto world, and the sixth to yin or yang; YiYi results in an affinity for yin, YiYa in either no affinity or a double affinity depending on a different allele completely, and YaYa in an affinity for yang.

Bloodline talents are stable mutations that affect the expression of these seven alleles.

In the case of the Hyuuga, an allele related to the C allele produces their particular chakra-vision. Let us call this modifier H. What we see in the manga is a relatively small clan with a very strong phenotypical similarity (ie, they all look very alike). The phenotype could quite reasonably be the result of endogamy; the clan marries inside the clan whenever possible to keep their talent closely held and as common as possible among them. My supposition to explain the clan size despite the power and value of their talent is that H is next to some important fetal development sequence, and often interferes with it. Further suppose that, in the process of "locking" H into their bloodline, the Hyuuga engaged in some pretty ruthless culling and line-breeding, which means vanishingly few of the clan escaped having genes with a messed up copy of that fetal development sequence. This would result in fairly few live births. The apparent frequency of warfare among the clans, both before and during the hidden villages era, would be plenty of reason to focus on locking in a valuable talent and perhaps not realizing that the frequent miscarriages were directly related until too late. Or perhaps even accepting them at first as the price of doing business. In either case I posit that this connection between the Hyuuga talent and reduced live births, once realized, resulted in a reduction of active culling and an increase in fanatic record-keeping and arranged marriages so as to maximize both live clan members and the Hyuuga talent. Increased sophistication of genetic theory and technologies over time would only have refined this habit.

The next question, of course, is how this results in the Uchiha (note that, in this 'verse, I jettison the Sage descent story completely and return to the earlier hints that the Uchiha descend from the Hyuuga). The Uchiha appear to be a far larger clan, enough to police one of the biggest villages and have a whole subdivision of the village of their own, and not quite as phenotypically similar. I speculate that the mutation that produced the Uchiha talent involved an alteration in H and the addition of modifying allele U, in such a way that they no longer messed up the fetal development sequence as often. I further speculate that one of the reasons for the Uchiha splitting off into their own clan was the founder's disagreement about the intense degree of endogamy the Hyuuga practice. So the Uchiha founder encouraged somewhat more frequent exogamy, and allowed outsider spouses into the clan a bit more often. This both supplied undamaged copies of the fetal development sequence, and greater phenotype variation. It also explains why the fully expressed Sharingan seems to be less common among the Uchiha than the Byakugan is among the Hyuuga. It may even explain why very Uchiha-looking black eyes seem to crop up in Konoha at large, as in Kakashi and Sai.

In all cases of a major bloodline talent, though, I have to suspect that established clans would regard marriage out of the clan as something akin to military espionage. That would be like taking secured blueprints off to a potential enemy. The formalities for gating outsiders into the clan would likely be fairly stringent also. It seems very likely that all noble/ancient clans practice endogamy as their default.

This Moment to Arise - Revelations

Aomine plays against Seihou, and the team that surprises him the most is his own. He watches Kagami and Kuroko play against Shuutoku, and understands some of what went wrong the previous year. Drama, Action, I-3

On the second day of the Tokyo preliminary finals, Daiki's heartfelt comment was, "About damn time." He shrugged off Satsuki's admonishing look. "Oh, come on, I've been bored out of my mind. Shinsenkan was pathetic, and even those Touou guys weren't exactly a challenge." Which had been a great disappointment, after he'd hauled himself through the whole month of A-block matches on the hope that the 'Kings of the West' would be at least a bit of fun. Or at least that their first match in the final block would be. But no, not so you'd notice. If it hadn't been ridiculous to imagine, he'd actually have thought Touou was holding back against him. So he had to hope that Seihou would be better; they had Tsugawa, at least, and he might be good for a bit of fun, if Daiki was remembering right.

"Be sure you don't get careless," Hyuuga-senpai ordered sternly, folding his shirt into the locker he'd claimed in the changing room. "All you first-years should be prepared. Seihou has the toughest defense in Tokyo; last year, they trashed us badly enough that we actually hated the game for a while. Badly enough we nearly quit." He banged the locked shut with more force than was necessary.

Daiki's lip curled a little. "Yeah, you and everyone else." He said it quietly, though, because Tetsu was giving him a Look. More loudly he added, "Of course you lost, you didn't have me or Tetsu. Or Satsuki. Or even Kagami, I suppose." He ducked Kagami's annoyed swipe, grinning.

"That doesn't matter."

Daiki paused in the middle of grappling with Kagami, startled by just how level Hyuuga-senpai's voice was. And when their captain turned away from the lockers, Daiki straightened up in pure reflex. Hyuuga-senpai's eyes were gleaming like light off steel.

"It wouldn't matter who we had or didn't have, this year. Because we didn't quit. And we're going to win." He opened his hand to Satsuki, and she stepped forward with a demure, bloodthirsty smile.

"Yes, Captain. We'll be using Aomine-kun and Tetsu-kun in this match, and saving Kagami-kun for the match against Shuutoku. Tetsu-kun, please."

The start of Daiki's protest was promptly cut short by a sharp jab in the ribs. As he turned, gasping, to glare at his partner, he saw Kagami bent over on Tetsu's other side, rubbing his ribs and glaring to match. Tetsu met both glares with a perfectly bland look, just as if he hadn't essentially sucker-punched both his partners. Satsuki was still smiling, sweet and alarming.

"Thank you. It's necessary, Dai-chan, so shut up. Midorin knows you too well, and you don't have the height Kagami-kun does. He's the only one here who might block Midorin's shots. You, on the other hand, are better at getting past defense." She gave Kagami a pointed look while she said it, and he subsided sulkily.

The door of the changing room clicked open and everyone looked around to see their coach standing with her hands on her hips. "It's time," she said, eyes gleaming to match Hyuuga-senpai's. "We have a year's worth of interest to pay Seihou back on our loss last year. It's a big debt. Are you ready?"

The snap of the second-years' agreement made Daiki's ears perk up. That... that was a good sound. He liked hearing it.

As they filed out into the hall, Kagami glanced down at Tetsu. "Something wrong?"

Daiki looked around sharply; sure enough, Tetsu was looking up at the darkening glass ceiling of the main concourse as he walked, eyes distant. "Have you ever hated basketball, Kagami-kun?" he asked quietly.

Kagami blinked. "Not really."

"I have."

Daiki jerked up short in the hall, and Tetsu stopped too. When he glanced at Daiki, those pale eyes were flat and shadowed. "It wasn't for the same reasons as our senpai. But I know that feeling."

"Tetsu, what," Daiki started, chest suddenly tight. "You didn't..."

"It's a painful feeling, to hate what you love," Tetsu said quietly, holding his eyes.

Daiki flinched back from talking about this here, in front of Kagami again. "I don't..."

"I think this is an important game," Tetsu continued as if he hadn't spoken. "For our senpai to get beyond the past. And maybe for us, too."

Daiki just stared back, wordless. It was Kagami who snorted, hands jammed in his jacket pockets. "I don't know what all you're talking about. But if it's an important game, let's go win it."

A slow smile tugged at the corners of Tetsu's mouth, and the flatness faded out of his eyes. "Sometimes maybe it's good to be uncomplicated," he said blandly.

"Of course it is." Kagami frowned. "Hey, wait a minute."

Tetsu looked back up at Daiki. "Well?" he asked softly. "Shall we go win it?"

Daiki still wasn't sure he understood everything Tetsu was asking, but there was only one answer to that question. "Yeah."

And then they were out under the lights and there was no need to think about anything except the ball and the court, which was a relief after all the uncomfortable things he'd had to think about lately. He relaxed into the start of the game, the familiarity of other uniforms lined up across from them, the sound of the first whistle. The absolute presence of the boundary lines closed around him, and the basket was a weight in his awareness, pulling in the ball.

Or at least it would be, as soon as he could shake off Tsugawa, the persistent little bastard.

What Satsuki and Kantoku had said during the week they prepared for this match was true enough. Seihou were only human; they weren't miracles. And it wasn't like Daiki objected to having strong opponents, quite the opposite. But it still just annoyed him to see that creepy smile on Tsugawa's face, and the guy was even interrupting some of the pass combinations between him and Tetsu. It would be satisfying to grind him into paste, no question, but it wasn't being much fun. Tsugawa was strong, but the weight of him in the game was spiteful; it was like playing a shadow of Murasakibara or something, and Daiki hadn't liked doing that either, good training or not. He reminded himself he didn't have to enjoy someone's game to beat them, and pushed his pace faster, cutting sharper, skimming past his marker no matter how smoothly Tsugawa moved.

Or, at least, that was the plan.

Daiki scowled as he was called for charging again, and Tsugawa grinned.

"Aomine-kun," Tetsu said at his elbow, a whole paragraph of scolding about keeping his temper in just two little words.

"I know," Daiki snapped, irritated that he couldn't really open up his game without getting yet another damn foul. "We're still winning." Just not by as much as he'd gotten used to, and not in a way he especially liked. Well, it wasn't like that second part was actually anything new. He rolled his shoulders and focused. Ignore how annoying Tsugawa was, and the fact that none of Seihou's players really excited him, and it really didn't feel like he should have to work this hard against them. Ignore that this wasn't even as fun as teasing Kagami. All there was was the ball and the court and him, sliding around the stiffness of the other players to throw and let the ball drop into the basket like rolling down a hill.

And even Seihou had the same expression on their faces as everyone else did, who watched him or played him. Disbelief. Fear. He turned away, back to their own defense, feeling ruffled up and weighed down all at once. He'd had fun doing this, once, he knew he had, but it was getting hard to remember the feeling of it. Hard to remember what interesting opponents even looked like.

"Good." Izuki-senpai clapped him on the shoulder in passing, and Daiki looked up, startled. There was no relief in his voice, no smugness, nothing to say that what Daiki had done was anything out of the ordinary, no comments on how Seirin would depend on him. Just a moment of approval in passing. Just what any of his old team might have said. If Murasakibara had stopped intimidating the other team long enough to notice, or Midorima had stopped snarking long enough to say something so straightforward, or Akashi had, for some reason, stopped taking it for granted.

Okay, maybe not what any of them would have said, but... the same feeling.

"Stop sulking and come with me," Tetsu said quietly, at his elbow. "We'll take the ball back."

Daiki grinned wryly at Tetsu's familiar snippiness and shook himself back into the game. "Yeah, okay." Seihou was fast, but he was faster, and he liked their sheer indignation when he proved it. Their passing game was strong and smooth, and it probably worked against most people. But he was Tetsu's partner. Seihou's smoothness was nothing to that.

The smack of the ball square against his palm was a good feeling. Tsugawa's grimace when Daiki gave the ball to Tetsu and spun cleanly past to take it again floated a little bubble of laughter through his chest. And the sweep of the ball through the air into the net was always its own moment of perfect balance, where nothing else mattered.

Which made his annoyance all the sharper, when Tsugawa tried to walk through Tetsu and then freaked out over not having seen him. His oh-so-bubbly chatter about how many points down Seirin had been by this time last year made Daiki growl. He knew it was on purpose. He knew the kind of player Tsugawa was; this was a classic psychological attack. But the sudden darkness in Tetsu's eyes and the tightening of the second-years' jaws all across the court kind of pissed him off.

And, okay, he would admit that the pure arrogance of saying all that to a team that contained Aomine Daiki really pissed him off.

He probably should have thought about that more. Should have kept a closer eye on Tsugawa on his next drive down the court, should have realized that those weirdly smooth movements would throw his sense of velocity off, when he jumped to shoot. But he didn't, until he felt impact against his shoulder and heard the whistle and realized that Tsugawa had suckered him into yet another foul. His fourth.

He wasn't surprised when the coach called him off, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. He wanted to grind Tsugawa into the court himself. That would be really satisfying, right about now.

Hearing Tetsu called off, too, and seeing Koganei-senpai and Tsuchida-senpai waiting for them... now that surprised him. "Shouldn't it be Kagami?" he asked, startled. "He's the only other one who can really work with Tetsu."

Hyuuga-senpai shook his head, eyes distant. "No. We're already ahead by twelve points, that's enough. We decided this before the game started. We're only using any of the first-years in the first half."

Beside Daiki, Tetsu suddenly relaxed, and Daiki shot him a questioning look. Seirin wanted to win. He knew they wanted to win, as badly as anyone he'd ever seen. So why were they benching their two best scorers and their strongest supporting player?

"Why?" he finally asked.

Hyuuga-senpai snorted. "Think about it, Aomine. We'll need Kuroko against Shuutoku, no question; we need to conserve his strength. Same goes for Kagami. Seihou is already starting to be able to track Kuroko anyway. And you," he gave Daiki a brief glare, "have four fouls already. With Kuroko off, there's no one left you'll actually listen to about keeping your temper. You think I'm going to risk you on the court like that?"

That stopped Daiki short. It was true, he didn't really bother listening to anyone else, here, except maybe Satsuki. This was the first time he'd felt uncomfortable about it.

"I understand," Tetsu said quietly, and bowed. "We'll leave it in your hands."

Hyuuga-senpai's mouth quirked up and he rested a hand on Tetsu's shoulder. "Yeah."

"Tetsu, what..." Daiki started as his partner took his elbow and started to haul him off. Tetsu was smiling faintly.

"Our senpai have their own determination." Tetsu tagged Koganei-senpai, and Daiki absently held out his hand to do the same with Tsuchida-senpai.

Daiki frowned, but didn't ask again. When Tetsu was in a close-mouthed mood, you just had to watch and wait. So he watched as the game started up again. As Hyuuga-senpai and Mitobe-senpai scored with a very smooth combination. As Tsuchida-senpai slid in easily to screen. As the whole team drew in tight around Izuki-senpai's plays.

Seirin was holding the lead.

"They're better than I thought they'd be," Kagami muttered on the other side of Tetsu, only to collect a swat from the coach.

"Their pride is on the line," she snapped. "This is a revenge game, and it's one we've spent a year training toward. So shut up and watch."

Was that what Tetsu had meant? That their senpai wanted to win with their own strength? Daiki supposed he could respect that. If they could really do it. He frowned as Seihou's captain stole the ball from Tsuchida-senpai and sent it back down the court for a shot Hyuuga-senpai barely managed to block. Minutes ticked by as he watched, frown deepening. Seirin was pushing harder, wearing down. Seihou had taken six of their twelve point lead away. If they lost this game because of the second-years' pride, that would be incredibly stupid.

He meant to say so during the quarter break. If he went back in for the fourth quarter, there'd be no problem. He was used to Seihou's movement now, having watched from inside and outside the game. Tsugawa wouldn't catch him out again. But when he opened his mouth to say so to Hyuuga-senpai, the look in his captain's eye stopped him cold. It wasn't anger. It wasn't desperation, despite the pressure they were obviously under. Tetsu had said the senpai were determined but that was too pale a word for what Daiki was seeing. The force of it held Daiki silent while the second-years went back out again.

And somehow, even through they were wringing wet with sweat and panting for breath, they seemed to be pushing even harder. First Hyuuga-senpai and then Mitobe-senpai and then even Izuki-senpai broke past Seihou's blocks. At the end of the bench, Satsuki made a pleased sound.

"They've got it," she said, eyes intent on the game. "They've grasped Seihou's movements, Kantoku. I think we're clear."

Their coach blew out a long, relieved breath. "Good. I was worried for a while, there."

Satsuki flashed a bright smile down the bench. "It's always easier to see it than to do something about it in the middle of a game. But our DVD player didn't die in vain."

That was weird enough to pull Daiki's attention off the game for a moment. "Didn't what?" he asked Satsuki.

"It wasn't enough for me to analyze Seihou's habits and report them," she told him, matter-of-fact. "Their techniques are woven into every part of their game; no pre-made strategy would keep up. Our players had to be able to see the way I do, at least for this opponent. So all the second-years have been studying all the match videos we could find. It was Hyuuga-senpai's idea."

Studying Seihou, long and hard enough to burn out one of the DVD players, Daiki filled in, a little shocked. No wonder Hyuuga-san's focus had felt so heavy, had such a deadly edge.

And, slowly, Seirin was pulling ahead again. A lay-up that Izuki-senpai broke through for. A hook-shot from Mitobe-senpai, answered by one of those long, soft shots by Seihou's point guard. Seirin was seven points ahead and still pushing like they were behind.

On the other hand, maybe that was wise. Daiki watched Seihou's captain drive straight through a two-man defense to slam the ball in, and he could feel his shoulders pulling tenser. Only five points ahead and over three minutes to go. Seirin could still lose this. "Kantoku," he said, low, "you should send me back in."

"Have a little faith in your senpai, Aomine," she told him, but her voice was husky and a quick look showed her knuckles white on the edge of the bench.

"If you're worried about the fouls, send me in," Kagami said just as Daiki was opening his mouth to argue.

"I'm not going to risk breaking their momentum now," Riko-san snapped, not looking away from the court.

"Kagami-kun," Tetsu said quietly, "Aomine-kun. Just watch."

"Watch what?" Kagami growled, but a brief cheer from the onlookers snapped both their heads around toward the game before Tetsu could answer. Hyuuga-senpai was slapping palms with Izuki-senpai and the score was eight points ahead. Seihou's point guard went for another shot, but Mitobe-senpai was there this time, pressing him back, off balance, and Izuki-senpai stole the ball and gave it to Hyuuga-san for another of those rock-steady three-pointers. Seihou passed the throw-in around, just as fast and smooth as ever, and Daiki stiffened as he saw the pattern; the ball was going to come back to Iwamura, and no one on the court right now could stop a full power drive from him. The clock was ticking down, though, they would still be safe...

Tsuchida-senpai lunged for the ball like it was the last chance Seirin had and slapped it into Izuki-senpai's hands. Izuki-senpai to Hyuuga-san, well outside the three-point line, while Mitobe-senpai slid into Tsugawa's path. And, as the last seconds ran out, the ball sailed in a long, graceful arc and swished through the basket as cleanly as one of Midorima's shots.

Seirin won by fourteen points. Two more than the lead Daiki had left them with.

"Kantoku said it, didn't she?" Tetsu murmured at his shoulder. "Our senpai had their pride on the line."

"I guess so," Daiki muttered, still a little stunned that the second-years had gone that far to take their game back after a loss like the one Tsugawa had taunted them over. They could have kept him in and won easily, maybe even crushed Seihou as badly as Seihou had done to them if Daiki had kept his pace up once he'd found it. But they hadn't; they'd been that determined to prove their game to Seihou and to themselves. He'd never seen anyone else do something like that. Not his own team, who'd never had to go that far, and never had a loss to come back from anyway. Certainly no one he'd ever played against, no matter how much he'd wanted it and even, for the last few desperate months before he gave up on the hope, prayed for it.

Which was probably why the first words out of his mouth when everyone came back to the bench were not congratulations but rather, "Where the hell were you for the last three years?!"

Hyuuga-san slowly adjusted his glasses, eyes glinting, and Daiki resigned himself to a brisk cuff which, okay, he probably deserved for that. But Hyuuga-san's mouth crooked up at one corner and the hand that landed on Daiki's head was only a little rough, messing up his hair. "Learning how not to give up," Hyuuga-san told him. "It's something you could stand to do, too, obnoxious brat."

Daiki started to protest that, but his captain's eyes were still bright and hard with the thing that had driven the team so intensely to win in every way possible, and in face of it Daiki fell silent again.

"That's better," Hyuuga-san said quietly. "You need to learn how to gauge other players more accurately, Aomine. You make too many assumptions."

Daiki was unsettled enough to stop and think about what Hyuuga-san meant. About what might happen if he had been on the other side, playing against that diamond focus and drive he saw in Seirin today—if he'd been as slow to understand Seirin as he had been to come to grips with Tsugawa's tactics, today. It was a thought that unsettled him, made him think of a time when he'd paid a whole lot more attention to his opponents that he had been lately. The discomfort of that thought made him look away from his captain's level gaze.

Hyuuga-san squeezed his shoulder once and let him go, turning back to gather up the rest of the team and harry them off to the changing room. When Daiki turned to follow, he found Tetsu at his side again.

There was satisfaction in his partner's eyes.

Another day, another game, and Daiki was on the bench again. He slouched down with a sigh.

"Quit sulking," Riko-san told him, exasperated. "You knew you'd be out for this game. You're not ready to play hard for two consecutive days, yet."

"I'll sulk if I want to," he grumbled. "You gave Midorima to Kagami. That's so unfair." He'd really been looking forward to playing the others from Teikou. Midorima had had some fairly cutting things to say about the starting line-up, too, and Daiki frankly thought he was right. Riko-kantoku and Hyuuga-san were gambling by using Kagami alone with Tetsu.

Sure enough, Tetsu got the ball through to Kagami for the first shot only to have Midorima block it. Well, at least Hyuuga-san blocked the return shot. It wasn't a start to make Daiki feel confident, though. The slow minutes that went by while both teams fought for the ball and neither scored didn't make him any more relaxed, either.

He was more than half expecting it, when Shuutoku's point guard feinted hard for the basket only to pass the ball back to Midorima, well behind the three-point line. The basket that followed was a foregone conclusion, though Riko-kantoku's choked sound of disbelief made it clear that no one else had really understood what Midorima could do. Daiki kept his eyes on Tetsu, though, because he knew what his partner could do, also.

And he knew Tetsu's temper.

Sure enough, Tetsu was sending Kagami back toward Shuutoku's basket, and Daiki smiled slow and toothy as Tetsu caught Midorima's ball under Seirin's basket, stepped over the line and spun hard on one heel to fire the ball back down the full length of the court. He didn't even mind too much that it was Kagami who was there to catch it, since the resulting basket showcased Tetsu so beautifully. Daiki leaned back on his hands, smirking as players and audience made shocked sounds all around him. "Shuutoku's going to be in trouble if Midorima doesn't pull his head out of his ass and remember who he's playing," he told Satsuki.

"Stop gloating, Dai-chan, it's unbecoming," she told him, just as if she wasn't doting over Tetsu with hearts in her eyes. The next minute, though, her smile turned sharp again. "They'll set Takao Kazunari on Tetsu-kun, now."

Riko-san frowned at the court, fingers tapping against her folded arms. "How soon, do you think?"

"One more play," Satsuki said, serene in the surety of her predictions.

Sure enough, after one more basket for Seirin, the point guard moved to mark Tetsu. Daiki narrowed his eyes at the way the guy was grinning, all bright-eyed. He liked it when other players appreciated Tetsu, but not when they got pushy about it. Though he supposed this would make the counter Tetsu had suggested more effective, if Takao was that focused on him.

The rest of the first-years winced as Shuutoku scored again. "Are the senpai really going to be able to keep up with Shuutoku long enough?" Furihata asked Riko-kantoku.

She smiled, and it reminded Daiki so much of Satsuki when she'd lost her temper and was about to make someone regret the day he'd been born, that he edged away down the bench. Just to be on the safe side.

"Don't worry." Riko-san flicked a little bit of painted wood absently through her fingers. "I trained Hyuuga-kun very thoroughly in how to shoot under pressure."

"Who cares about this this 'King' bullshit?" Hyuuga-kun yelled, out on the court. "Die!"

"Though it maybe did some bad things to his personality," she finished quite calmly as the ball swished through the net.

Satsuki clasped her clipboard to her chest and sparkled. "Riko-kantoku is such a good trainer." The women smiled at each other in a happily bloodthirsty way.

"Why did I let Tetsu drag me here?" Daiki muttered. As if Satsuki wasn't scary enough on her own.

"It's about time for Midorin to try a longer shot," Satsuki murmured, ignoring him, eyes on the players again. "Tetsu-kun hasn't left him any choice, if he wants to avoid those long passes. I hope everyone remembers what I said about that."

"It's hard to really believe, but they'll remember." Riko-san rocked a step forward as Midorima got the ball again. "Here it comes."

Midorima shot from the center line, and Daiki nodded as the ball arced up. "It's in." And he'd give his senpai this much credit; despite the disbelief on every face but Tetsu's when Midorima went up to shoot, that was their only flinch. Izuki-senpai got the ball to Kagami fast, after the throw-in, and Daiki rolled his eyes as the jumping idiot shot from the outside and ran to dunk it himself when it missed. "His accuracy sucks," he muttered.

"So does yours, from the outside," Satsuki scolded, hitting him lightly over the head with her clipboard. "You shouldn't... there!" She went up on her toes, focused on Midorima like a predator. "It's coming! Kagamin challenged him, it's the end of the quarter, he'll use a full-court shot now!"

"Unbelievable," Riko-san whispered as they watched Midorima take a shooting stance under Shuutoku's basket. "You think he can really...?"

"He'll be able to do it, by now," Satsuki said, positive. The ball arced achingly high over the court and down, down, to drive cleanly through Seirin's net. And the buzzer sounded while everyone stood frozen.

Daiki frowned as he followed the rest of the team back to the changing room and watched them, during the half time break. Everyone but Kuroko and Kagami were shaken. He didn't think that would stop the second-years for long, not after what he'd seen them do against Seihou. But none of them were fast enough to stop Midorima before he could shoot. "You should put me in," he said flatly.

"You'd have to use too much of your speed to stop him on the ground, Dai-chan," Satsuki said, laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "Kantoku says you're not back in good enough condition. It has to be Kagamin, this game."

Daiki fired up at that; Kagami, to take his place against one of his own ex-team? "Kagami isn't good enough to stoâ€”" he broke off with an oof as Kagami stopped scrubbing a towel over his face and rammed an elbow into Daiki's side.

"Don't make decisions for other people! God you're an asshole when you don't get to play." Kagami look a contemplative swallow from his water bottle. "And when you do, now I think about it. Quit worrying so much, I can do it."

"I wasn't worrying you..." Daiki glowered, aware that the rest of the team was stifling laughter. Even Tetsu, who was perfectly straight-faced.

Hyuuga-san clapped Daiki and Kagami both on the shoulders and said, with a toothy smile, "Good, keep on not worrying. And stop arguing like toddlers, you brats, before I knock your damn heads together."

Both Kagami and Daiki hunched down a little and muttered agreement.

But maybe Daiki's remark really had gotten to Kagami, because when he went back out onto the court he focused on Midorima like Satsuki focused on her player-data. He jumped to block Midorima's shots again and again, and he was starting to actually do it, starting to pull Midorima back down the court so he didn't have to take so long to set up for the shot. Satsuki hissed with satisfaction the first time Kagami actually blocked a shot, and Daiki had to admit that Kagami was tipping the balance of the game. Every shot he blocked, the second-years were there to catch and make a come-back play with. And those jumps were getting higher. Watching Kagami advance like that in the course of a single game tugged at something in Daiki; he remembered how it felt, to do that. Riko-kantoku was starting to make disapproving sounds as she watched him, though, running and jumping and not stopping. She swore out loud when Kagami went to take the ball down the court again and stumbled on one of those jumps, losing the ball to Shuutoku.

Daiki, personally, kind of liked how Kagami wasn't stopping for anything. So he rolled his eyes over the scolding Hyuuga-san gave Kagami during the third quarter break for not paying attention to the rest of the team. Right now, he didn't even care if he was showing sympathy for a rival; he liked how Kagami was playing.

"This is the only way to do it," Kagami argued back, "I'm the only one who canâ€”" Abruptly he stopped talking, so frozen Daiki wasn't sure he was still breathing, and the whole team blinked at him. Slowly, stiffly, Kagami turned his head to stare at Daiki and then at Tetsu, who was standing beside the bench with that shadowed look in his eyes again. As they looked at each other silently, though, Tetsu's shoulders eased and fell out of their tight line, and the crease between his brows smoothed out again. Daiki straightened out of his slouch on the bench; he hadn't realized how tense his partner's silence was until just now.

"Was that... how it happened?" Kagami asked, a little hoarse.

Tetsu nodded. "It's all right, Kagami-kun. I won't let you play like that," he answered quietly, a quiet that Daiki recognized. That was Tetsu making a promise, and his gut clenched hearing Tetsu speak to Kagami that way.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Kagami took a slow breath and shook his head, hard. "Thanks." He gave Daiki a frankly disturbed look, and Daiki realized abruptly that Kagami and Tetsu had been talking about him, somehow. Before he could ask or protest, though, Riko-kantoku was standing in front of them and calling for attention.

"Okay, Kuroko's had a break, so it's about time to spring the trap on Takao. Also, we'll use the accelerated pass this quarter We're eleven points behind, people, it's time to push." She gave Kagami a narrow, measuring look. "You... you can block Midorima twice more, I think. After that stumble, though, they won't think you can do it again at all. We're going to bluff. Block his first shot in the fourth quarter, and then save your last jump in case you need to block a critical ball and turn the momentum. And then you're done, and you leave it to the rest of the team, got that?" Her glare intensified when Kagami flexed his legs thoughtfully, and he ducked his head.

"Yes, Kantoku."

"All right. Get out there, then."

Daiki grabbed Tetsu's shoulder as he stripped off his t-shirt and turned toward the court. "Tetsu, what the hell did you mean? You won't like Kagami play like what?"

Tetsu gave him a level look. "Aomine-kun. If you win with a team that still can't trust each other, if you win but no one's happy about it... is that really victory?" He shrugged out from under Daiki's hand, tugging his wrist-warmers up. "I don't think so."

Daiki watched him walk out onto the court, silent while the words echoed in his head. It was true enough that none of his wins had felt like a real victory for months. Maybe a year, by now. He wasn't even sure it would have felt like a real victory if he'd been the one out there playing Midorima. It wasn't a real victory if you didn't have to fight for it, and he didn't think Midorima could really make him fight.

Except... that wasn't what Tetsu had said, was it? He hadn't said "fight". He'd said "trust". And "happy about it". Daiki froze, staring blindly out at the court. Were those thing things Tetsu hadn't felt for a year? Tetsu's words, back before the start of preliminaries, when they'd fought that one night over dinner, echoed in his head.

Trust... if that was Tetsu's real victory...

"Fuck," Daiki whispered to himself, scrubbing a hand over his face. "No wonder he's pissed off."

He started when Satsuki hit him very lightly over the head with her clipboard, looking up to find her smiling down at him. "Now you're getting it."

Daiki hunched his shoulders a little. "Yeah, yeah." Satsuki had always been the one who saw what was in his own blind spots; she didn't need to rub it in.

And then the crowd roared, and he looked back at the game and smiled to see the ball canon into Kagami's hand from Tetsu's. In fact, he smirked, because as much as he had blind spots, so did Satsuki, and telling Kagami to save a play was like telling a glutton to save some of dinner. He watched Kagami jump to dunk the ball right past Midorima's block, and laughed.

Satsuki hit him harder this time.

"Oh, come on." Daiki rubbed his head, grinning up at her. "Tetsu will take care of things. And you can't say that wasn't a fantastic expression on Midorima's face." Riko-kantoku growled from his other side, and he subsided, still grinning.

The last two minutes turned the grin to a frown, though. Most of Shuutoku fell back to defend, and Seirin was still one basket short. Even Hyuuga-san's shots were only keeping even with Midorima's. Tension crawled up Daiki's spine as the score hovered, deadlocked, and the seconds ticked down. He wasn't the only one who let out a relieved breath when Hyuuga-san finally broke free and sank one more three-pointer to turn over the score in Seirin's favor.

Only he and Satsuki cursed, though, when the ball fell, because what the hell was the rest of the team thinking, why wasn't anyone guarding Midorima?! The ball was in Midorima's hands, Kagami and Tetsu were both closing on him, but if Kagami was past his limit already...

"Kagami!" Riko-kantoku yelled, loud enough to make Daiki's ears ring, up on her feet with her hands clenched. "Don't...!"

Kagami was already jumping, though, as high as any of his blocks during the game, and Daiki held his breath.

"It's a fake!" Satsuki shouted, on his other side, furious, and sure enough Midorima brought the ball back down and set his feet for another jump with a serene calm that ignored that last seconds slipping away. Kagami wouldn't even land soon enough to jump for this shot, never mind whether he actually could or not.

Daiki was still holding his breath, though. There was one person who could stop Midorima, still.

And there, Tetsu was there, striking the ball out of Midorima's hands, and the buzzer sounded just as Kagami's feet hit the court again, one second after the ball. Daiki breathed out.

And when the rest of the team came off the court to be piled on by everyone else and, in Kagami's case, shoved down onto the bench for a fast examination by a furious coach, Daiki just looked down at Tetsu. "I knew you'd be there," he said quietly.

Tetsu cocked his head, still panting for breath. "Did you know Kagami-kun would? Midorima-kun knew."

"Midorima believes in a lot of things I don't." Daiki's mouth twisted and he sighed. "I've only played with him for a few months, Tetsu, give me a little time." He folded his arms, looking down at them, and offered, "Knew Hyuuga-san would make the last shot we needed, though."

Tetsu laid a hand on his arm, and when Daiki looked up he was smiling. "We'll just keep playing until you know for everyone, then."

"Okay," Daiki agreed, low. For Tetsu, he would try. And maybe for that tug of familiarity Kagami's game had given him today.

"I can't believe you!" Riko-kantoku was sputtering over Kagami. "Just look at this! Definitely muscle strain, maybe even torn muscles! I'm taking you to the hospital immediately, and who knows whether you'll be able to play against Kaijou next week?! Basketball idiots!"

Satsuki came to drape her arms over Tetsu's shoulders from behind and murmur, "And now he says..."

"I'll be fine, I can still play!"

She mouthed the words along with Kagami, and Daiki had to laugh.

Maybe he was a little glad Tetsu had dragged him to this school, after all. Just a little.

This Moment to Arise - Stumbles

Kuroko gets a chance to play the way he wants to, again, with Aomine against Kaijou. When he has to play without his partners against Touou, though, he finds himself hitting a wall. Drama, Action, Angst, I-3

Tetsuya was starting to feel that it was somehow fate: if one of his partners wasn't sulking, the other would be. Kagami had been sulking for a solid week, in fact, starting from the moment the doctor had informed him he had put micro-tears in the muscle of his calves and strictly forbidden him from playing for two weeks. He wasn't even allowed to practice, only to do very gentle stretches up on the stage, glowering at thin air under the coach's stern eye. Like the other end of a see-saw coming up, Aomine had become cheerful again. In fact, he was grinning as they lined up to board the train out to the arena hosting this year's Interhigh tournament.

Aomine would be the only ace who got to play against Kaijou, for their first round.

He was so cheerful he was nearly whistling, and he took the seat next to Kagami's, most likely so that he could keep waving his cheerfulness in Kagami's face. Tetsuya rolled his eyes a little and took a seat against the back of theirs so he didn't have to watch it. They were like a couple of little kids sometimes.

Momoi settled next to him, humming to herself, which was a better sign. "You're confident?" he asked quietly.

She smiled, the distant, calculating smile she wore during matches. "Ki-chan is always the hardest to predict because his progress depends so much on who else he's played recently. But Dai-chan is back in condition, now, and he'll be playing his best since it's against Ki-chan." Her smile turned rueful as Kagami and Aomine's muttered exchange devolved into a brief wrestling match, behind them. "And Kagamin and Dai-chan still distract each other sometimes, when they play together. Maybe it's best, for this match, that it's only Dai-chan." She leaned against his shoulder. "And you."

He gave her the tiny smile that only his teammates ever seemed to learned how to spot. "And you."

On the way to a match, she was in a serious enough mood to not indulge in any over-the-top public affection, and just looked back at him, eyes sparkling with the wicked edge of her own determination. "Of course."

This year's venue was down the coast, a town that catered to beach-goers, and a brisk breeze off the water blew through the open streets and snapped the pennons that marched up the steps to the arena. Tetsuya breathed it in, tasting the electric edge in the atmosphere. Knots of other students in school uniforms ignored the gathering crowd around them, aware only of each other. Everyone was here to win, and everyone knew they might lose, and the eyes of the players were bright with that tension every time glances crossed.

Tetsuya loved this. He loved the uncertainty and need and excitement. He knew exactly what it was that drove Kagami against Tetsuya's old team. He knew what it was that Aomine missed so desperately it turned his eyes dark and dull. And even though he'd ignored Akashi's plans and orders for the two of them, and followed his own judgement instead, he hoped that Aomine would find what he needed again today, facing Kise as an opponent. Aomine was smiling, which he really hadn't, yet, through all the preliminaries. There was a manic edge in that smile that made Tetsuya's spine crinkle, though. He thought he wasn't the only one to notice, because Kagami watched Aomine from the corner of his eye as the team got changed, not sulky any more but frowning just a little.

"All right," Hyuuga-san called, waving them to gather close. "We've played Kaijou once, but don't let that make you overconfident. I doubt they were going all out, not in a practice match, and Kasamatsu knows what we can do, now. Stay sharp." He nodded as everyone chorused agreement, and then reached up to wrap a hand around the back of Aomine's neck. "Except for you," he added. "You need to calm down." He shook Aomine a little, holding his rather startled gaze. "Kaijou isn't running away, and you don't need to hunt them down for pity's sake. Breathe."

Tetsuya was actually the one who followed that order, breathing out as one thread of tension uncoiled down his back. He had been right, so right, to bring Aomine to Seirin.

Even if Aomine was currently looking at their captain with that manic edge fading back into shadows. "They probably will, after this," he said, low and so matter-of-fact it made something twist in Tetsuya's chest.

Out of that tight twist, he said, "Kise-kun never runs away. Especially not from you."

Aomine hesitated, and finally lowered his chin. "Yeah. He doesn't."

Hyuuga-san shook his head at them, mouth quirked. "And now the we've had the moment of brooding that seems absolutely required for you two, get out on the damn court and play!" He gave Aomine a little push.

"Yes, Captain," Tetsuya agreed blandly over Aomine's indignant sound, and gave his partner a much firmer shove toward the door with a hand in the small of his back. Aomine pouted at him but went, and Kagami followed after them, rolling his eyes. Fortunately it only took a few steps for Aomine to remember that Kise was waiting for them, and then he picked up his pace.

Momoi touched Tetsuya's shoulder, just before the team went out onto the court. "Tetsu-kun. Are you all right with this, too?" She glanced over at Kaijou, at Kise, who was already smiling that sharp little smile he wore when he let the rest of the world fall away and just played. The one he only ever wore when he played Aomine. Tetsuya watched Aomine's smile start to sharpen in answer and sighed softly.

"Being unnoticed is my specialty, Momoi-san."

She bit her lip at that, and he touched her hand lightly, shaking his head. He couldn't say he didn't mind; sometimes he got really tired of it. But the fact remained, this was his specialty. His strength. So he stepped out onto the court in Aomine's shadow, and took what amusement he could in watching Aomine and Kise exchange jabs, and didn't interject to mention that, even if Kise could beat Aomine this time, Kaijou would not defeat Seirin.

Because Tetsuya was here, also.

Kaijou clearly intended to test that, though. Kise got the ball at once, and only Aomine's raw speed struck the ball out of his hands and into Hyuuga-san's for the first basket. Just as Momoi has predicted, Kasamatsu-san gave Kise the ball again, and Hyuuga-san growled audibly when his own three-point form was repeated. Aomine was there again to deflect it, and Mitobe-senpai got the rebound, but Kasamatsu-san stole the ball from Izuki-senpai as soon as he went to pass it and took a basket of his own with beautiful speed and precision.

"Don't think we're nice enough to just let you take control of the game," Kasamatsu-san told Izuki-senpai with a tight smile.

Tetsuya nodded to himself, watching. Momoi was right; Kaijou believed that Kise could stop Aomine, and were covering for him while he tried.

They might be right.

He watched Aomine and Kise bare their teeth at each other and scuffle back and forth with cuts almost too fast to follow. He could hear Izuki-senpai's hiss of indrawn breath when Kise leaped to block Aomine's shot cleanly. Kise was developing his game fast, at Kaijou, maybe even faster than he had at Teikou. And he had a team prepared to support him, a team led by someone who made Momoi's eyes burn brighter when she talked about his strength and how to oppose him.

But that was all right, because the more Kise and Aomine drew the eye, the stronger Tetsuya's own counter-move would be.

Tetsuya flexed his knees, watching his marker out of the corner of his eye. They'd chosen the hyperactive one, the one who went up for all the rebounds. This one would respond fast when he lost sight of Tetsuya. He hadn't been part of the practice game, though, and would be surprised the first time he experienced it. As soon as Aomine closed again to mark Kise, Tetsuya took the moment of distraction when his own marker glanced at his captain for direction to fade to the side, behind, around, each step smooth and easy, sliding one step ahead of the path of the other player's gaze as he jerked around, looking for Tetsuya. Who, of course, was now in exactly the opposite direction, closing on Kasamatsu-san. He caught up just as Kasamatsu-san spun to the side to evade Izuki-senpai, and tapped the ball out of his hands, sending it singing back down the court to Mitobe-senpai to take the next basket.

"I'm sorry," he murmured in answer to Kasamatsu-san's ferocious glare, "but we're not nice enough to let you have control of the game, either."

Kasamatsu-san snorted, eyes glinting as he straightened. "Uppity first-year brats everywhere," he declared, and spun back to re-deploy his team.

Tetsuya bent his head for a breath, storing up the satisfaction of having such a strong player count him in with Kise and Aomine, to hold back the bitter edge of watching Kise and Aomine focus on nothing but each other. Of watching Aomine forget, again, that he had a partner on this court. He'd known it would probably happen, after all.

By the end of the first quarter, Kaijou was ahead and his senpai were getting tense. But Tetsuya could see Aomine's focus tightening on the challenge Kise presented. When Aomine stood back up from the bench, the weight of his focus was heavy in the air, and Kagami snorted softly, leaning back on his hands. "Nothing to worry about, huh?" he asked.

Aomine didn't look around. "Of course not."

Tetsuya looked over at Momoi, questioning, and, at her nod, sat back down himself.

"Tsuchida," Kantoku called, "you're in. Make sure you get the rebounds, because that Hayakawa they've put in for the tournament games has way too good a record at that. Watch everyone's backs!"

Beside Tetsuya, Kagami made a startled sound, looking down at Tetsuya with raised brows. "But aren't you more of an advantage than him, while the misdirection lasts? Why are they pulling you out already?"

"Because Dai-chan is getting serious," Momoi said softly, behind them. "If we need to bring Tetsu-kun in at the end, he's going to need all the rest he can get now, to keep up with how fast Dai-chan will be going by then."

Kagami looked a little skeptical, but turned back to the court, elbows on his knees as he watched the game start up again.

By half-time, he wasn't looking skeptical any more. Aomine was moving faster and faster, pushing against every advance Kise made, sliding around him like water, blocking his shots. Most of Kaijou's baskets were coming from Kasamatsu-san, now, while Seirin had both Hyuuga-san and Aomine making points. They were pulling ahead.

"All right," Kantoku said, hands on her hips as she stood in front of the bench. "This is the breaking point. Either they'll go with Kise or they won't. Aomine-kun, will you be ready, if Kise can really complete his copy of you?"

Aomine's lips peeled back from his teeth, and his eyes were fixed on the empty court. "Of course I will."

Riko-kantoku sighed and leaned forward to grab him by the ear. "You will not enter the Zone, understand? You're back in reasonable condition, but that would put too much strain on your body, still. Now use your brain to actually think and answer me: if Kise can complete his copy of your techniques, can you still deal with him?"

"Ow, shit, okay already!" Aomine rubbed his ear, nearly pouting up at their couch. "Yeah, I'll be okay; Kise isn't as fast as me."

Kantoku raised an eyebrow at Momoi, and her shoulders straightened in response to Momoi's firm nod. "All right, then, no player changes yet. You all know the strategy, if they don't go with Kise: Mitobe will join in to double mark Kasamatsu. Now get out there and play!"

When play started again, it was tense. Kaijou was pushing hard, but Kise always passed the ball when it came to him. "You were right," Kantoku murmured to Momoi. "Look at how Kise-kun is always on Aomine-kun. He's not just marking tightly, is he?"

"No," Momoi agreed softly, clipboard clasped tight to her chest. "He's going to try it."

"Will it really work, even if he sees it?" Kagami wanted to know, glancing up at her. "I mean, Aomine's kind of a freak, just physically; can Kise copy his moves?"

Riko-kantoku hummed absently, eyes on the game. "Kise's physical condition is at least as good, and his potential is equal to Aomine-kun's. He might not have quite the edge of speed, but he comes very close." She glowered down at Kagami in a forbidding manner. "You're still working up to that level, and you'll be working harder as soon as your legs are healed, believe me."

Kagami snorted, apparently unconcerned by the 'triple drills' glint in her eyes. "Of course. That's why I'm still with Seirin."

Momoi caught Tetsuya's eye and they smiled at each other, wry and tilted. Kagami really was a great deal like Aomine used to be.

And Aomine was looking a little more like himself, as he watched Kise watching him, teeth glinting in a sharp, eager smile every time Kise broke away to try one of Aomine's moves against another player. He started up on his toes every time that happened, and his return baskets came fast and hard. "Aomine-kun wants Kise-kun to do it," Tetsuya noted, quietly.

"Well of course he does," Kagami answered, at the same moment Koganei-senpai said, "Aomine is weird." Koganei-senpai grinned a little, and added, "Kagami, too."

"It is not weird," Kagami insisted, indignant. "I'm not saying he's not an asshole, but he just wants a game worth playing, that's not weird." And then he frowned at Momoi and Tetsuya. "Why are you laughing?"

Momoi wiped her eyes, still giggling. "This is why Dai-chan loves Kagamin."

Tetsuya smiled faintly out at the court while Kagami turned red and sputtered. The shift in Aomine's stance pulled him forward on the bench, though. Aomine had been making more and more daring formless shotsâ€”daring for anyone who wasn't Aomine, at leastâ€”but he'd just fallen completely out of stance, ball in one hand, other hand planted on his hip. He slung the ball over Kise, careless and hard, and it smacked off the backboard and through the net, leaving silence behind it. They could hear him on the bench when he said, "Quit screwing around, Kise. If you don't hurry up it'll all be over. I'm not patient enough to wait until you're all ready."

Hyuuga-san dragged a hand over his face. "Aomine, you little brat..."

Kasamatsu-san barked a laugh. "You think that matters? Who the hell cares about your patience?" The throw-in smacked into his hands and he spun free of Izuki-senpai, and sent a three-point shot sailing through the hoop. "Know your place, first-year. You're not the only player on this court!"

Tetsuya shivered a little, watching. Kaijou seemed to take those words as inspiration, tightening up their defense even more. The next time Hyuuga-san shot, Moriyama was there to block it. The team pulled in around Kise, guarding the score unwaveringly while he prepared. And Tetsuya saw the moment Kise understood what his team was doing, saw the tiny, true smile that curved his lips before he sank into a taut, familiar stance, facing Aomine.

And broke past him like lightning.

The whole bench were on their feet as Aomine gave chase, Momoi shouting a warning just as his feet left the ground that bit too forcefully, driving him into Kise's back. And Kise completed the shot with a hook behind both of them that sank through the net as though rolling downhill.

"He did it!" Kagami yelled, pounding on Tetsuya's shoulder, wonder and excitement in his voice just as though it wasn't the opponent's ace he was talking about.

"Yes," Tetsuya agreed, fingers curling tight. Aomine was standing under the basket, blank and shocked by the actual experience of being passed, but the blankness was slowly fading into a burning focus Tetsuya hadn't seen in over a year. It made his chest tighten, seeing it again, but there was a chill settling around him as well. This was what Aomine wanted, needed, but would he forget the progress they'd made this year, now he had it? Would he forget Tetsuya completely again?

The next ball was stolen when Tsuchida-senpai passed it back to Hyuuga-san, and Kise cut past Aomine again only to have Aomine slap the ball out of his hands, right at the hoop, so hard it landed in the stands.

The other first-years were making shocked sounds, but Tetsuya just nodded to himself. This was more like Aomine, far more like him than all the lazy slouching and drawled complaints of the past year. Aomine blazed through the Kaijou team and faded back almost parallel to the floor to make his shot over Kise's block.

"He really likes that one," Kagami grumbled, and Tetsuya smiled a little. Kagami had been on the receiving end of that move more than once, to be sure. It was one of the things that made him think Kagami might be the answer for both Aomine and himself.

Kise's next shot was the one Aomine had just used, and the ball went in just as smoothly.

Momoi whistled softly. "Ki-chan really has done it. He isn't as fast, but he's adjusted his movement for that. His change of pace has just as much impact, and his flexibility is already equal." She frowned. "Riko-kantoku, this might be a problem."

"Mm." Kantoku shot a glance at the scoreboard, where Seirin was only two points ahead. "I was hoping to have more of a lead, yes, but... Kaijou is a very strong team, under Kasamatsu-san. Kuroko. Make sure you're warmed up."

Tetsuya nodded quietly. "Yes, Kantoku." He started stretching his legs out, eyes steady on the flow of the game. Or, perhaps, the rocking of the game, back and forth between Kise and Aomine, basket after basket. They raced furiously after each other, up and down the court, teeth bared, burning fiercer than Tetsuya had ever seen them, before.

Of course, there was a reason he'd never seen them stretched all-out against each other.

There were only a few minutes left to go in the last quarter when Kise faltered and the whole court froze, watching his ball circle the rim, around and around, before it finally fell in.

"That's it," Riko-kantoku snapped, and signaled for a time-out. As the players came in, she clapped Tsuchida-senpai on the shoulder. "All right, Kise-kun's finally reaching the limit of his endurance. We're putting Kuroko-kun in. Aomine." She latched onto his ear again, hauling him down eye to eye. "You and Kuroko will double-team Kise to get the ball away from him or past him. We need to open up the lead, because Kaijou won't just let us go." She nodded toward the other bench, where, sure enough, the Kaijou players were gathered around Kasamatsu-san, still focused and intent.

"Not like you have to tell me," Aomine complained, rubbing his ear, and then he slanted a sharp, wild grin at Tetsuya. "You ready?"

The tightness in Tetsuya's chest loosened all at once, and he smiled back, tugging his wrist-warmers to settle them just as he liked. "Of course."

He was better than all right. He wanted to laugh. He felt relief sparkling through his veins. This was the partner he remembered.

And when they stepped onto the court, it was the combination he remembered, his partner's casual, perfect awareness of him as Tetsuya slid into the path of the ball and struck it back towards Aomine, turning his movement jagged and unpredictable. They shook Kise loose once, twice, and Kise caught them the third time but faltered again, stumbling on his landing from blocking Aomine's shot. Tetsuya caught the wild-flying ball, spun, sent it scorching back to his partner, and Aomine slammed it home. It was hot, fast, incredible play, and Tetsuya gloried in it. Kaijou wasn't giving way against it, though. Kasamatsu-san stole the ball back for a three-pointer, hauling Seirin's lead back down to three points, and Aomine bared his teeth.

"Full court, Tetsu," he breathed. "You can do it for me, can't you?" And he was gone without waiting for an answer, sprinting down the court toward Kaijou's basket.

That was all right. Aomine obviously knew what the answer was already. Tetsuya stepped over the boundary line, took the ball, and whirled the weight of it around himself until he could fire it back down the court, hard and heavy.

"Kurokocchi!" Kise yelled, and he was already nearly on top of Aomine; he'd known it was coming, too. Despite the danger of having the last ball they'd have time for stolen, Tetsuya smiled a little. Aomine. Kise. They both knew what he could do.

It was such a good feeling to have again.

Both Aomine and Kise went up, Aomine to dunk and Kise to block it, struggling against each other, each with a hand on the ball. For a long second, they seemed to hang there, perfectly balanced against each other, but then the balance tipped, broke, and Kise's hand slipped as Aomine slammed the ball into the net.

The buzzer sounded.

Tetsuya's mouth tightened as Kise stumbled again on landing and went down. Playing so hard against each other, the way they'd never been permitted to do before... he wasn't surprised. Nor was he surprised when Aomine hesitated, standing over Kise, hand twitching uncertainly at his side. In that hesitation, it was Kise's new captain who shouldered past Aomine and bent over Kise to give him a hand up. To lift him, when his legs gave out. Aomine turned away quietly to meet Tetsuya and the rest of his own team.

"You sure you don't want to say anything?" Hyuuga-san asked, mopping his face as they went to line up. "I mean, it's not like you have to forget you knew each other, even if you're opponents, now."

"There's nothing the winner can say to the loser that would do any good," Aomine said, low, and Tetsuya stepped up to his partner's side, brushing his shoulder in passing.

He'd always wondered if maybe Aomine hadn't really thought through the consequences of splitting the team the way Akashi had demanded (and Tetsuya had re-interpreted for his own purposes). If Aomine really did keep winning, he would have to face his teammates after they'd taken a true loss at his hands. He'd have to see Kise's face twisted with the tears he was trying, for once, to hold back, and see someone else's hand ruffling Kise's hair, steadying him. It wasn't in Aomine's nature to think ahead like that, not like it was in Tetsuya's. Tetsuya met Kasamatsu-san's eyes as Kaijou's captain supported Kise to face them, and bowed soberly.

He had known this was coming, and resolved himself to it months ago. It still hurt a little.

It wasn't until they were leaving, until Aomine stubbed his toe on the stairs down from the arena and almost tripped, and Kantoku's voice sharpened with concern, that he realized there were implications he hadn't thought through enough either. Or maybe just hadn't believed. When Kantoku and Aomine came back from the hospital, though, Kantoku's face set and Aomine's dark, he felt the true weight of those implications land like a rock in the pit of his stomach. A chill ran through him, like a cloud had crossed the sun and cut off the light.

"A week and a half off the court," Kantoku told them, flat and grim.

"Are we going to use Kagami next week, then?" Hyuuga-san asked.

Riko-kantoku's hands clenched hard for a moment. "No," she ground out.

Kagami jerked upright from where he'd been leaning against the stage. "But...!"

"I said no!" Kantoku barked, rounding on him. "The doctor said two weeks, and it will be two weeks! I'm not letting anyone who's injured set foot on the court!"

Kagami stepped back, eyes a little wide, hands raised, and Hyuuga-san rested a hand on Kantoku's shoulder for a moment. "We'll deal with it," he said firmly.

Tetsuya took a slow breath and held on to the firmness of his captain's words, to steady himself. They would deal with it. As a team.

Even if it was a team that didn't include either of his partners.

Both Tetsuya's partners were sulking when the team got to the Interhigh venue a week later. At least they were doing it quietly now, since Riko-kantoku had shown no tolerance for whining and actually made Koganei-senpai bring her a paper fan to smack both Kagami and Aomine with whenever they complained out loud. Momoi had looked enchanted with the idea, and it had been a lighter moment in the middle of the week's frantic training toward today's match.
Momoi was looking a lot more serious, now, as she did last-minute briefing while everyone got changed. "...so all of Touou's players are strong, this year, and they have a real reputation for individual play, but you absolutely must keep your eye on their captain. Imayoshi-san is unquestionably the one who's shaped Touou's recent play style, and all of my sources agree that he's frighteningly good at grasping the one thing you least want him to figure out." She flipped her notes closed and finished, "Tetsu-kun. If he targets anyone, it's most likely to be you."

Tetsuya shrugged to settle his shirt over his shoulders. "There's nothing to do but deal with it, if it happens."

A hand landed on his head, ruffling his hair firmly. "Quit stealing my lines," Hyuuga-san told him. "You can panic a little if you want to, you know. All four of you are way too calm to be first-years."

"Yes, Captain," Tetsuya agreed, calmly. All his senpai rolled their eyes, which amused him; someone, some time, had taught his current team how to tell when someone was teasing with a straight face. He wondered who it had been.

"All right, people," Hyuuga-san said, louder. "Don't lose your focus just because there isn't a Miracle on the other side. Let's go!"

It was so familiar, stepping out under the weight of the lights, week after week, to meet whoever faced them. Familiar and also not, because this time, every time, victory was uncertain. The uncertainly pulled Tetsuya's nerves tight and made his breath faster.

It was part of what he played for.

Touou's captain, Imayoshi, smiled as he shook Hyuuga-san's hand, running an eye over the team. "Leaving both your aces on the bench? That's a little overconfident, don't you think?" Without changing his pleasant expression in the slightest, he added, "Or maybe just careless. I suppose you're still a young captain. Perhaps you'll learn, today, to take better care of them for the winter."

Tetsuya could almost see the moment Hyuuga-san's temper, always chancy during a game, snapped. He smiled back at Imayoshi, toothy. "I don't need some snake-eyed bastard on the other side telling me that." He turned on his heel and stalked to his position, glaring the shortest Touou player out of his way, and barked at his team, "Let's go!"

Imayoshi actually clutched a hand to his chest. "So cruel!" Tetsuya saw the way he looked after Hyuuga-san, though. Measuring. Calculating. Perfectly cool. A little shiver went through him. Momoi had been exactly on target, as usual; this was their most dangerous opponent.

Indeed, even though Momoi had warned them to be on guard, Imayoshi still managed to intercept the tip-off and, when Hyuuga-san blocked him, passed the ball too high for Tetsuya to catch. It went to Touou's outside shooter and left his hands again almost as fast as the one of Tetsuya's own redirections. The first basket was Touou's, and it was a three-pointer. Tetsuya's team exchanged grim looks. This was going to be every bit as hard as Momoi and Riko-kantoku had projected.

Touou was fast and strong. The center who guarded their net on defense wrestled with Tsuchida-senpai for every ball. Their shooting guard looked even slighter than Tetsuya, but he shot fast enough that, even warned, Hyuuga-san had to fight to block even some of his balls. Their captain, their point guard, had a sharp eye for the flow of the game and always sent the ball toward a weak spotâ€”the extra moment Izuki-senpai needed to get turned around, the instant Hyuuga-san was distracted by the threat of a pass to Sakurai, the opening behind Mitobe-senpai's back the moment he stepped forward to screen.

Tetsuya took a breath and sank himself into that flow also, hearing the murmur of Momoi's analysis in the back of his head. Their center had good accuracy up close but not at any distance; when he was away from the net, he always passed. Tetsuya slid into the path of the ball and turned it toward Hyuuga-san's hands. Touou's shooting guard was blindingly fast but that meant he never had as firm a grip on the ball as another player might. Tetsuya faded away from his marker and sprinted to strike the ball out of Sakurai's hands. He could feel his team settling around him, settling in for a long fight, but always poised to receive the ball. Poised because Tetsuya was on the court, and they expected it of him, trusted him to intervene. Part of him basked in that feeling, in the reliance of his team.

But part of him was aware of Imayoshi's eyes catching him, over and over again, like an unexpected hand dropping onto his shoulder from behind.

Still, they were holding on. By the middle of the second quarter, when the rest of Touou started being able to find him, too, Seirin was eight points ahead. Tetsuya tagged Koganei-senpai at the side-lines and dropped onto the bench between Aomine and Kagami, breathing hard.

"I will never get how you can be so calm in the middle of such a hot game," Kagami told him, shaking his head.

"Tetsu? Calm?" Aomine stared at Kagami like he was crazy. "Tetsu's never calm, he just doesn't actually, you know, yell about things."

Tetsuya huffed into the towel he was scrubbing over his face. "I can't keep track of the game if I'm one of the ones yelling," he pointed out, hanging it around his neck and reaching for his water. It was true; he had to pay close attention to what was happening to keep up with everyone else, to be in the right place for his passes. However much passion he brought to the game, he had to observe everything carefully, even himself.

He knew that wasn't how his partners played. But he wasn't like his partners. He wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to play hot and thoughtless the way they did. He knew it wasn't how his game, his strength, would ever work, but sometimes he wondered.

The second-years were playing pretty hot, themselves, now, pushing to keep Seirin's lead. Touou was pushing back, though, and Momoi made an annoyed sound between her teeth as Imayoshi feinted around Izuki-senpai and faded back for another three-pointer. "That man is entirely too good at faking opponents out," she declared, clearly offended that even her scouting beforehand wasn't quite enough of an edge to close Imayoshi down.

"He's the one who's making their individual plays work, too," Kantoku agreed, mouth a little tight. "We'll just have to tighten up our own coordination to stop them."

Aomine had been watching the game with his elbows on his knees, head cocked a little as Kantoku moved down the bench a little, tracking play with a frown of concentration. "There's something a little weird about Seirin that way, don't you think?" He glanced over at Tetsuya and then back at Momoi. "About the second-years. I mean, they're tight, yeah. Really tight. But, being as tight as that, shouldn't they be able to make more advanced plays?"

Tetsuya made a thoughtful noise, considering his senpai's play. Touou's center back-cut around Mitobe-senpai. Hyuuga-san wasn't quite close enough to interfere properly, and the center threw one of those ferocious passes to their shooting guard. "Mmm." He had to agree; even knowing Seirin wasn't a defensive team, he'd have expected someone as experienced as Hyuuga-san to catch that.

Momoi was nibbling her lower lip. "It's..." She hesitated, which was uncharacteristic enough to make Tetsuya brows rise.

"Shut up, Aomine." Kantoku didn't look away from the court. "I know already, you don't have to rub it in."

"It isn't your fault, Kantoku," Momoi said softly, while Aomine was blinking.

"No, but it's my responsibility, now." Their coach took a slow breath and glanced down the bench at the suddenly questioning looks of every first-year on it. "I'm this team's coach, yes, but my experience is in training, not strategy. Our strategist is... away right now." Her hand clenched on her knee, and her voice fell. "Just a little longer. If we can just hold on a little longer; he's almost ready to come back."

Tetsuya tucked this new information away; it sounded like their team would be bolstered even more than he'd thought, if they could just win this round. He looked back at the game, focusing like he was out there himself, watching the pattern of the second-years' plays. This was where he put his own fire, where almost no one ever really saw it, into his focus on his team and opponents. This was what he had to strengthen, to support, to make shineâ€”the absolute solidity of Hyuuga-san's outside shots, Mitobe-senpai's steady judgement under the basket, Izuki-senpai's grasp of position.

He could do it.

The second-years were wringing wet and panting when they came in for half-time, and fell on Mitobe-senpai's honeyed lemons like wolves. Tetsuya was absently grateful that Kagami had brought a batch of his own, and offered them around to the first-years. Even, reluctantly, Aomine, though they got into a brief wrestling match over it when Aomine smirked and tried to take four at once.

"You know, I'm not even sure I'm joking about Dai-chan liking Kagamin," Momoi said to Tetsuya, not all that quietly. "He acts just like a little boy pulling a little girl's hair because he likes her."

That had the effect Tetsuya had no doubt she'd intended, as both Aomine and Kagami broke off fighting with each other to protest. He smiled back, faintly, at her tiny grin, but most of his attention was still on the game—on what he'd seen, and how he'd need to play in the last quarter.

It was, he thought, a good thing he had stayed focused, because when they got to the fourth quarter, Seirin was down twelve points. Kuroko took a breath as he stepped out under the lights of the court and slid straight into the game as though he'd never left; in a way, after all, he hadn't. He shadowed Izuki-senpai, following the quick signals of his glances to take the ball at unexpected angles and relay it to its true target. He stole passes to Touou's Sakurai and fired them to Mitobe-senpai instead, in the moment no one was watching. He could hear the shouts from Seirin's bench, hear the enthusiasm of both his partners. And he could feel his team shifting around him, pushing into a higher gear.

This was what he lived for, this feeling, this triumph of his game, of the strength he gave his teammates, over the opposing team. When the score turned over again, he thought the lightness of the moment might lift him off his feet.

When Imayoshi stepped up to mark him, he felt a chill cut through that glow.

"Will you listen to that?" Touou's captain said, conversationally, waving a hand at the stands. "'Can we stop Seirin's energy' indeed. You think they'd know better." Imayoshi smiled, slow and predatory. "Did you know? There are some things you can only see in a mirror."

Tetsuya frowned to himself and waited for the ball to go to Izuki-senpai, for Imayoshi's attention to split so he could fade away and cut free. But Imayoshi stayed on him, close up, close enough to...

...close enough to watch his eyes.

Tetsuya pulled in a hard breath. Every time he glanced at Izuki-senpai, Imayoshi looked away from him. Looked at Izuki-senpai, too.

...only see in a mirror.

It happened again when Tetsuya tried to move to relay a pass between Hyuuga-san and Mitobe-senpai. Again, when he went to screen Hyuuga-san's next outside shot. He couldn't shake Imayoshi off, and the clock was ticking down. The score turned over in Touou's favor. Again in Seirin's favor. And Tetsuya didn't have anything to do with any of it. He was blocked at every pass, and he could feel the team stumbling; it was worse than if he hadn't been on the court at all, because they kept starting to rely on him and having to pull up short.

"It's a double-edged sword, isn't it?" Imayoshi murmured, still smiling. "The way you strengthen them. The way they rely on you. Very double-edged indeed."

Tetsuya's mouth tightened hard, and he met Imayoshi's eyes, direct and intent. This time, he didn't look away, stayed focused on his opponent and just moved. He had to hope Izuki-senpai would see and understand. And, sure enough, there was a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye, and Tetsuya spun away at the last moment to reach for the ball coming toward them.

Imayoshi's hand slid in front of his, and he cut between them, fading back and back and finally going up for a three-pointer neither Izuki-senpai nor Tetsuya were in place to block. The ball arched through the air, slow and high, over the heads of the frozen players, and swished through the basket, giving Touou a two-point lead.

The final buzzer sounded.

Imayoshi looked back at Tetsuya again. "It was obvious they'd rely on you at the last," he said, almost gently. "Seirin is a young team, and your strength conceals your weaknesses. Too bad, hm?" He turned away toward his team.

Cold slid through Tetsuya like a knife. Was he actually bad for his team, when Aomine or Kagami couldn't be on the court? Had he led them to overestimate him, just because he wanted so badly to be acknowledged as a useful player? He went through line-up and the retreat to the changing room in a chill fog of wondering what he could possibly do now.

Everyone was silent in the wake of their loss, and the silence plucked at Tetsuya's nerves. He was almost grateful for the metallic bang when Aomine punched one of the lockers.

"What the fuck good is it being a genius and all that shit, when I can't use it?!"

Momoi roused at that, though her voice was quiet. "Dai-chan, you know why. None of you are developed enough to use your full strength for too long."

Aomine growled.

"Don't be silly, Satsuki-chan." Aida-kantoku stood briskly from testing Hyuuga-san's calves and ankles, and put her hands on her hips. "Now that I have a better gauge for just how much strain it does put on you, you bet your ass you're going to be training to use your full strength for a full match, Aomine-kun."

Aomine blinked at her like she'd suddenly turned on all the lights in a dim room. "...I am?"

"Of course you are!"

"But Riko-kantoku," Momoi started, half hopeful and half alarmed.

Kantoku waved an impatient hand. "In middle-school, of course their bodies couldn't sustain that kind of play for long! And it would have been crazy to try to train them up to it while they were still growing. But now..." she eyed Aomine thoughtfully, "now, I think you have all but an inch or two of your height, and that's the important part. Now that your muscles and tendons aren't constantly under the strain of growing longer, we can take all that effort and energy and pain and put it toward your training." She gave Aomine a sunny, ruthless smile, and he grinned back the way Tetsuya hadn't seen in a while, bright and excited.

Tetsuya started a little when that smile was turned on him.

"Hear that, Tetsu?" Aomine reached out and mussed his hair, through Tetsuya's towel. "I won't leave you alone out there again. You'll have all the light you need."

Tetsuya stilled, caught between relief and a twist of fear. This was what he'd wanted, what he'd worked for, but was it really enough? For the first time, he doubted it. Aomine promised him light. As much light as he needed, to play the way he always had. Enough light to bring out his strength.

Enough light to conceal his weakness?

Kagami's snort broke the circle of his thoughts. "What makes you think someone like Kuroko, the one who hauled your ass to Seirin and dragged your head out of it too, will be satisfied with stopping there?" He tied his shoe with a rather ferocious jerk, set both feet firmly on the floor, and braced his hands on his knees, elbows stuck out aggressively. "We need to be stronger, yeah. So Kuroko can rely on us, the same way we rely on him."

"I told you you rely on him too heavily," Aomine jibed at Kagami. "I, on the other hand, have the perfect balance already."

Momoi coughed meaningfully into her fist, and Aomine added, "Back again."

"Oh, nice save." Kagami applauded sarcastically, and Aomine jumped him, and their corner dissolved into wrestling again. The second-years groaned and rolled their eyes, and the whole room lightened a little.

Tetsuya just sat, not quite seeing what was in front of him, while Kagami's words rolled through his head. Kagami, his other partner, thought he wouldn't stop with the goal he'd just barely regained. Thought he'd keep going, keep building up his game. The idea unfolded slowly, like a flower opening up, until his chest felt full and tight with it. To be more, to want more... could he? Could he really? The memory of a hundred quiet moments of irritation or resignation, playing as Teikou's shadow, came back to him.

Hadn't he always wanted more?

Tetsuya took a long, shaky breath, feeling like he was looking up after staring at the ground for so long he'd forgotten there was anything else to see.

"Tetsu-kun?" Momoi's hand was on his shoulder, and she was looking down at him with a shade of worry behind her smile. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes." Tetsuya shook himself and looked up at her. "I think Kagami-kun is right," he told her. "I... I need to be more, too. Will you help me?"

Her eyes turned wide and surprised. He supposed that wasn't something she'd been in the habit of thinking, either. The surprise melted slowly into familiar determination, though. "Tetsu-kun. Of course I will." She smiled, bright and fierce, the way she hadn't since they'd come off the court today. "I'm Seirin's analyst, aren't I? I'll find a way."

Tetsuya nodded back firmly, feeling that determination settle into his thoughts and bones, heavy but comfortable. Yes. They'd find a way around his weaknesses, until his team could rely on him without danger.

He wouldn't let his game end like this.

The new thoughts tugged at him, as Seirin gathered themselves up and started for home. He'd thought he came to Seirin, and brought Aomine with him, to prove the worth of the way he played the game. He had a team, here, that needed him and knew how he strengthened them. He had a team that wouldn't let Aomine molder in apathy, that demanded he train properly and play properly. There was even Kagami, to spur Aomine out of his slump, to remind him that there were other strong players, to show him how a decent partner acted.

He'd thought that was all he wanted.

But when Kagami had spoken, so confident that Tetsuya wouldn't be content with just that, wanting had flared up instantly. So instantly that Tetsuya knew it had to have been lying in his heart all this time, waiting for a spark. It had taken Kagami to make him see, to make him remember his old hopes from before Akashi had found him and told him his strength was a shadow's strength, from before he'd gotten used to shadow victories.

Maybe it wasn't just Aomine that Kagami could show how to play again. And when Tetsuya remembered how deliberately he'd set out to use Kagami to make Aomine jealous enough to wake up, he wondered, with a twinge of guilt, whether it wasn't just Aomine that needed Kagami to show him how to play again.

When he and Kagami waved good night to Aomine and Momoi, and parted ways at the station, his thoughts finally spilled over into words.

"I'm sorry."

Kagami glanced down at him, brows raised. "What for?"

"I used you for my own ends, to make Aomine-kun remember how to be a partner. And even so, you still have that much faith in me."

"What, that?" Kagami snorted, stuffing his hands further into his pockets. "Don't worry so much about it. Everyone plays for their own reasons; it's not like you made me play the way I do. That's just me." He gave Tetsuya a sidelong look. "As for you, are you going to tell me you will let it end like this? Your game? Seirin's game?"

Tetsuya's response to the mere question straightened his spine in a rush of hot denial. "Of course not," he said firmly.

Kagami was grinning a little. "Thought not."

"Being smug makes you look like Aomine-kun," Tetsuya observed, and smiled just a tiny bit as Kagami's vociferous objections echoed off the yard walls around them.

He walked on through the warm spring night, dwelling on the old, faint taste of playing for himself.

Candles Lit at the Doors

Jingrui is finding himself drawn back toward a military position, after fighting at the northern border, and Yujin follows along, as he always has, despite his own reservations. Along the way, the two of them get into trouble, politics, and eventually a deeper understanding. Drama with Politics and Romance, and also a Sprinkle of Porn, I-4

Finding a Path

The road that led past the river north of Jinling was a good one for racing on. It got less traffic than the others, and ran fairly flat until it reached the tree line. Yujin had raced Jingrui down this stretch many a time, once they were both old enough to be let out on their own horses without an older cousin to mind them.

Today they gave their horses their heads, but it wasn't a race. They rode close all the way to the trees, horses running shoulder to shoulder, slowing together as they passed between the first tall trunks. Yujin waited until they were well under the unfolding spring leaves before he spoke.

"It's really true, then."

Jingrui flashed a bright smile over at him. "It really is." And then he looked faintly hangdog. "I'm sorry I didn't say, in the winter, when he first visited. Aunt Jing made me promise not to."

Yujin waved that off, scoffing. "Don't worry so much; of course you kept quiet if she asked." He did give Jingrui a long, searching look as they turned onto the path to the river, though. "That's why you've been thinking about returning to the military, though, isn't it?" He'd wondered about that, a little. He knew Jingrui had stayed in contact with some of his men, even once their year-long obligation was up, and he'd been watching the capital patrols with a more and more considering look in his eye all winter.

Jingrui smiled down at his horse's neck. "A little." They reined in at the edge of the clearing by the river's wide bend and dismounted as one. They'd always moved together, like that, but Yujin was starting to wonder how much longer they could do so. His own military experiences, so far, had left him ambivalent, aware he could likely be a good commander but sickened by the waste of every fight, and furious that some ambitious fool's failure of thought had made it necessary. Though he admitted he'd felt somewhat less of that under Lin Shu's direction, on the north border.

"Everything I've heard says he'll never take the field again," he said to his saddle, loosening the reins so his horse could drink from the river. "You would never be under his command again."

"Not in the field," Jingrui agreed. "But... well, it's Lin Shu ge-ge. If he's back, then..."

Yujin couldn't help the grin that tugged at his mouth. "Then he'll be the one in charge anyway." Only Prince Jing had ever really been able to stand firm against Lin Shu's impatient assumption of command, and the Crown Prince certainly wasn't going to be refusing any military distribution the brilliant Vice-Marshal of Chiyan might advise. Not after the battle at the northern border had demonstrated so conclusively that Lin Shu had lost none of his tactical brilliance. Yujin pulled his horse gently back from the water and tied it so he could walk around to join Jingrui at the water's edge. "You're sure, then?" he asked, quietly.

"I think so." Jingrui gave him a bright, open smile, elbowing him lightly. "So, what about you?"

Very few of Yujin's reservations had ever held up in face of Jingrui's smile. Not when they were little and stealing sweets off Aunt Jing's table (with her amused connivance, Yujin had realized years later); not when they were a little older and Jingrui had dragged Yujin everywhere after their glamorous, if also sometimes alarming, older cousins; not when they'd come of age and Jingrui hauled Yujin out onto the roads to wander the country with that very same smile. He could barely imagine leaving Jingrui's side, at this point. So there was really nothing else to do but elbow him back until they managed to shove each other into the shallows, laughing.

In the end, it was Meng Zhi's still-pressing need for commanders he could trust without question that quashed the last of Yujin's reservations. Because he could see the uncertainty, at every gathering he attended, hanging in the air like smoke—the doubt in the eyes of nobles and ministers alike, whenever they looked sidelong at the Imperial Guard, or even the City Guard. He'd learned young how dangerous that kind of doubt and fear could be, and had no intention of letting his loved ones live in that kind of capital again, if he could do anything to help it.

"You're sure you won't mind?" he asked his father, a little hesitantly, as they sat together over wine in the evening. "I know our family is a scholarly one, it's just... I feel as though I could do something, there."

His father's mouth quirked faintly under his mustache. "If I'd minded you taking up martial pursuits, I'd have needed to do something about it a long time ago."

That was not, Yujin had to observe, actually a 'no', and he chewed on his lip behind his cup.

This time his father laughed, quietly. "It's fine, Yujin. You did well, dealing with both politics and battle two years ago, and you obviously already know how to listen for what's not said." He settled back a little on his cushion though his eyes were still sharp and thoughtful, resting on Yujin. "The Imperial Guard isn't a bad place from which to watch the workings of the court and the ministries. I doubt that's what Jingrui needs or will find in it, but for you... well, go and see."

Something in Yujin relaxed, hearing that, something deeper than his concern for his father's approval, the hot thread of outrage that curled tight every time he saw yet another thing about the capital that was still broken in the aftermath of the princes' fight for the throne. "It just... it makes me so angry, sometimes, to see what always seems to lead up to an actual battle," he admitted, looking down.

"What, stupidity?" his father asked, blandly, taking a sip of his wine. He smiled a little at the sputter of laughter Yujin couldn't hold back. "That's why I'm not worried, boy. You're true blood of the Yan lineage. You'll never be content to fix the results when you could be laying hands on the cause."

Yujin took a deep breath, feeling the words settle into his heart and ring true, there. "Yes," he agreed, softly. And then he had to sigh a little, as his heart did a prompt and familiar about-face and tugged in the other direction. "Jingrui..."

"Jingrui has to follow his own path." His father softened the flat statement by laying a hand on Yujin's shoulder, and added, "That doesn't mean your paths can't go in the same direction, if you both choose."

Yujin paused, suddenly remembering the handful of times he'd heard his father refer to 'Lin Xie da-ge' in his hearing, always with affection and fierce loyalty, and nodded slowly. "I'll remember, Father." He still didn't like the thought of not being right at Jingrui's side, but... perhaps it truly would be enough to travel the same way, if not quite the same road.

He would hope so.

And for now, at least, they could go together. He didn't have to try to explain another road to Jingrui, yet. He would hold tight to that, while he could.

Li Gang stepped past the house servant who'd shown him through to the Chief's rooms, here in Prince Jing's city manor, and gave the Chief a quick look up and down. He looked far less like a man trying to outrun a slowly festering gut wound, these days. He also snorted as Gang and Zhen Ping bowed.

"I'm fine, yes, and don't try to tell me you haven't been in communication with our members in the Imperial Guard, to get reports on me, all this time."

Gang exchanged rueful looks with Zhen Ping, and didn't try to deny it. "You called for us, Chief," he said, instead.

"Mm." The Chief jotted a note on the lists spread over his writing table, and said, in the thoughtful tone that meant he was saying more than it sounded like, "Neither of you have accepted reinstatement, yet."

This time, the look Gang traded with Zhen Ping was wary. "It didn't feel right, without you in command." He could hear the faint edge of entreaty in his own voice, and didn't try to stifle it, because if the Chief was about to give the orders it sounded like he was thinking of...

The Chief looked up, eyes steady on them. "You had a chance to see a bit of how Xiao Jingrui and Yan Yujin commanded, at the north border. What did you think?"

Gang blinked a little, but he was used to not being able to follow the Chief's quicksilver turns of thought. He settled back and considered. "They're both strong warriors, and not afraid to lead from the front. They're not as good, yet, at keeping a whole unit's position in mind, when they're fighting, but I thought they both had potential, as commanders."

"Yujin is better at strategy than Jingrui," Zhen Ping put in. "At least right now. Yujin thinks more. But Jingrui..." He raised a brow at Gang and Gang nodded agreement.

"Jingrui has stronger command presence, with the men."

"It's not that Yujin doesn't have it," Zhen Ping added, "but he doesn't throw it out into the world, as Jingrui does. In time, the men would follow Yujin, with a good will, because they'd know he'd make wise choices. But they'll follow Jingrui right now, because he calls on their hearts."

"Romantic," Gang accused, under his breath.

"Not like you don't agree," Zhen Ping muttered back.

From the smile the Chief was stifling, he'd heard that.

"There is one thing, about Yujin, though," Zhen Ping said, slowly. "I noticed it at Jiu An. Most of the time, in the field, he's a thinker. But he has a streak of savagery in him, when he's protecting something. That day, with his father, and then Gong Yu, behind him... he never took a single step back toward those stairs. Not one."

Gang's brows rose; that had been a close, bloody fight, from everything he'd heard. For someone who'd never experienced a battlefield before to hold his ground so hard... yes, 'savage' was a good word for it. That could be a helpful tool, in the field, but it could also get a lot of people killed. "It would almost be ideal for them to be co-commanders, then, wouldn't it?" he mused.

A faint huff of laughter escaped the Chief. "Except for the part where Jingrui is one of those things Yujin would defend to the death," he pointed out, dryly. "But what is it in Jingrui that makes you think so?"

Gang settled himself more firmly into the familiar flow of reporting to the Chief, focused on question and answer, and never mind the side-tracks the Chief himself might dart down. All Gang had to do was answer the questions as they came. "He's protective enough, but he doesn't fight to protect, and he doesn't get lost in that urge. He fights for his ideals. What he wants is to help."

"Hmm." The Chief settled back in his chair with a distant look in his eye. "Help whom?" he murmured.

"His friends. His people. His nation." Gang thought for a moment, about what he'd seen of the young man, at the north border. "The nation, that part is still unformed. He's not very fond of the government, and who can blame him? But, having traveled as much as he has, he's seen a lot of the people. His men kept mentioning that he recognized where a lot of their homes were. He values the wellbeing of those people he met."

The Chief was smiling. "Yes. For a young man who never had the slightest ambition for the scholar's way, Jingrui does a fine job of embodying righteousness and benevolence."

"He still assumes those in others a little too much, but," Gang shrugged, "that's what makes the men respond to him, too. At the north border, he fell very easily in with the brotherhood of soldiers. He just needs to learn not to trust everything reported to him."

"So Jingrui will be well, with a little more seasoning and a commander he believes in," the Chief mused. "And Yujin will need someone to watch his back." He straightened and looked directly at them again, tone slipping out of thought and into command. "Jingrui and Yujin are both considering entering the Imperial Guard, this season. I need some experienced officers under them, to keep an eye on them. Zhen Ping, you'll go to Yujin. Li Gang, you will go to Jingrui."

"Chief..." Gang half-protested, looking at Zhen Ping for support.

"If we're reinstated, that isn't something we can go back from easily," Zhen Ping agreed, just as anxious as Gang felt.

"Nor is the Palace somewhere I can easily return from, any more," the Chief said quietly.

That halted them both, and Gang turned this new charge around, in his head. If the Chief was part of the Palace, now, and they returned into the Jin army, they'd be closer to hand than anyone but the Palace eunuchs could get.

And Gang didn't really want to become a Palace official, at his time of life.

Relief spread, warm, through his chest, and he bowed, Zhen Ping a second behind him. "Yes, Chief."

"Tomorrow, then." The Chief gave them a sharp nod that was so very much their Vice-Marshal's gesture, Gang had to brace himself against the spike of nostalgia, so intense it was nearly pain, like hot blood rushing back into a long-deadened limb.

He'd been with the Chief long enough, he didn't think for one second that it was accidental.

"So, we're going back," Zhen Ping murmured, as they stepped out into the slanting, early evening sunlight.

"With yet more of the family, to look after," Gang agreed, a little ruefully.

"At least they can't possibly be as much trouble as the Vice-Marshal and the Prince were." Zhen Ping sounded hopeful, but Gang winced a little.

"Don't tempt fate."

Zhen Ping laughed, quietly. "All right, but at least the capital barracks are supposed to be better than the border cities."

Gang finally smiled. "Now that, I'll drink to."

Following a Path

It didn't actually take Yujin long to settle in to his new work. From his point of view, not a great deal changed.

There was training and drill, but that had always been true, especially once Dong jie-jie had started taking his training seriously. There were suddenly a lot more people he was responsible for, but he'd been the one looking after the Yan household for a long time, and just like he had the steward and housekeeper at home, he had sergeants to help with his battalion.

(The first day he'd met his unit, and watched the man he still thought of as Mei Changsu's personal swordmaster step forward, with a professionally blank face, to hand over the tally of his men, he'd been startled enough to ask, "What, really?"

"You're his family, Commander," Zhen Ping had said, under his breath but apparently quite calm. "Of course he wants to make sure you're taken care of."

Yujin hadn't quite had the nerve to protest, at the time, and he had to admit that Zhen Ping was very helpful.)

And he and Jingrui were both currently assigned to the bulk of the Jin army garrisoned outside the Palace itself. So, really, Yujin was feeling a great deal like this was an extension of his travels with Jingrui, except that both of them actually went home at night.

It was possible that their 'business as usual' approach was not endearing them to their superior, though.

"You want to do what, now?" Sun Wen, the Vice-Commander they both reported to squinted at them like he might be getting a headache.

"A mock battle," Jingrui repeated, brightly. "It'll keep everyone from getting too bored and losing their edge."

"They like being bored," Sun Wen pointed out, a bit dryly. "The alternative to bored is called 'battle'. And, frankly, we want hundreds of soldiers all crammed together to have less of an edge to them than a couple of hot-blooded young warriors used to gallivanting around as they please. Just for example."

That was definitely to their address, and Yujin stepped in to deflect it with a hopeful smile. "Varying the way they train will keep their skills sharper, won't it?"

"Which is exactly why we have several mock battles a year, out on the plains, about which you'll be informed in good time." Sun Wen picked up the report he'd put down when they entered.

"This would be indoors, though." Jingrui leaned forward, earnestly. "Won't that be good training for our Palace rotation?"

"Indoors?" Sun Wen looked up at them, brows arched incredulously. "Where, exactly, do you think we have space for two battalions to go at each other indoors?"

"The old Zhang manor, in the west-central district," Yujin supplied promptly. "Old Man Zhang's daughter has been trying to convince him to have it knocked down and rebuilt for years. If the army rents it for a while, then he's happy because it isn't getting knocked down yet and she's happy because they'll be getting more money to eventually rebuild it, and we get an interior practice area that's almost as complex as some of the Palace."

"So everyone's happy, hm?" Sun Wen eyed the two of them, and Yujin gave him his very best reassuring smile. Sun snorted. "All right, you seem to be reasonably organized about this; you can try it once. But if there are too many injuries out of this, and the physicians come after you, I'm going to leave you to their mercies. Just keep that in mind."

Yujin immediately thought of Aunt Jing's scoldings and quailed. From the look of trepidation on Jingrui's face, he was remembering exactly the same thing. "Yes, sir," Jingrui hastened to assure the Vice-Commander. "We'll make sure everyone is careful."

"Do so." Sun Wen nodded dismissal in answer to their bows, and picked up his reports again. And if he was shaking his head as Yujin left on Jingrui's heels, well, at least they'd gotten permission to convince him.

Yujin grinned at Jingrui as they clattered down the steps to Wen's office, and Jingrui grinned back, and they clapped each other on the shoulders, laughing. This should be fun. Also productive, of course, because that's what they were here for, after all, but it was very gratifying to find that he could still combine the two, now and then.

Perhaps he could find uses for more than his martial skills around here, after all. The thought made him relax under Jingrui's hand, smiling.

Zhen Ping crept through tall, dry weeds beside a weathered breezeway, after his Commander, and had to hold back a smile. He'd wondered, a little, how much of Yan Yujin's determined pleasure in life would survive something like Jiu An, especially once Yujin took a military post. But his Commander's eyes were bright, and he grinned as he watched their forward scouts sneak up to the tattered doors of the next hall and signaled Ping for two more squads to follow them. That cheer seemed to ripple out through the men who caught a glimpse of him, like a gust of wind through grass.

Ping observed that, and thought about the fact that Yujin did seem to have a good instinct for the morale of his men, and finally asked the question that had been nagging at him. "So, for this exercise, we're supposed to be rescuing a Minister from kidnappers who are holding him in his Palace offices, aren't we?"

"Exactly," Yujin agreed, and added thoughtfully, "It's really too bad we can't use the actual offices, but I suppose that would be too much disruption."

Ping took a moment to offer silent and fervent thanks that his Commander hadn't suggested that plan to Vice-Commander Sun. Sun Wen had been recalled from retirement to fill one of the two posts left empty (again) after the executions that had followed Prince Yu's rebellion. He didn't have a reputation as a harsh man, but the whole Jin army knew that his patience had a definite limit, after how briskly he'd restored order among his battalion Commanders. Thinking on the Vice-Commander's potential lack of amusement with them, Ping was a little cautious when he asked the next question. "If that's so, sir, then why do I keep hearing Commander Xiao's men yelling about having spotted the kidnappers?"

"Because their objective is to defend a Minister against the attack of kidnappers who have penetrated the Palace offices," Yujin said, quite calmly, eyes on the progress of the men clearing the hall ahead.

Ping had been afraid that was going to be the answer. "Sir," he started, searching for a respectful way to put this, "isn't that a little too..."

"Realistic?" Yujin's smile was crooked, now.

Ping had been thinking 'cynical' and still was, but 'realistic' also worked. "Yes, sir."

"That's the all clear sign," Yujin said, instead of answering. "Come on."

Ping ran forward on his heels, keeping a sharp eye out for anywhere around the dilapidated court that bowmen might be hidden. Li Gang believed quite devoutly in extra precautions, and Xiao Jingrui turned out to have a good eye for crossfire positions, as they'd already found out once. Over fifty men had had to retire, grumbling, with ink-spattered armor showing where they'd been shot.

It wasn't until they were safely under a rear window, with scouts ducking underneath the breezeways to crawl forward again, that Yujin said, quietly, "Jingrui said people fight better if it's for the right reason. And I didn't want any of our men thinking too long about being asked to attack the government." He looked over his shoulder at Ping, eyes steady. "If anyone asks, we thought it would be a good joke, for both sides to actually have the same objective."

Ping couldn't help giving an abbreviated bow to that level expression. "Yes, sir."

He still thought that it was Yujin who had the better strategic sense, but the longer he spent at Yujin's side, the more he heard 'Jingrui wants' or 'Jingrui said'. He was starting to wonder if Yujin ever really did anything on his own account or for his own sake, or if, perhaps, someone should suggest the idea to him.

And then one of the scouts popped out of the long weeds, signaling back that they'd found an opening, and Yujin lit up, laughing. "We've got them!" He bounced up onto his toes and dashed forward.

Or perhaps, Ping reflected, ruefully, as he sprinted after his Commander, he'd better save his worrying for keeping his charge in one piece right now, and let the future take care of itself.

Yujin loved sparring with Jingrui. Jingrui's sword form was beautiful, full of clean, sharp turns that swept aside any weakness in defense, meeting his blade only to spin aside and suddenly return from another angle. Yujin was, justifiably he thought, proud of the demonstrated effectiveness of his own style, but sparring with Jingrui was like playing a line of music.

Of course, all that sleek economy of motion and momentum did tend to mean that he often got worn down before Jingrui did, when they fought with swords.

"Ha!" Jingrui's eyes were bright as the line of his sword settled delicately against Yujin's neck. "Finally got you!"

"What 'finally'?!" Yujin demanded, laughing and out of breath, as cheers and groans broke out from their spectators around the drill field. "You think you shouldn't have to work for your win?" He tossed his sword back to his off hand and elbowed Jingrui as Jingrui flung an arm around his neck.

"Should I have to work, against you?" Jingrui teased, leaning against him until Yujin rolled his eyes and shifted his weight to dump him off, one of the most useful moves Dong jie-jie had ever taught him. Jingrui stepped through, graceful as ever, to catch his balance, laughing.

"Time to give someone else a chance, you two," one of the onlookers called out, and Yujin looked up to see Wan Fa, the Commander who'd been shifted over to take Jin's Second battalion while Yujin took over the Fourth from him. A little murmur of anticipation ran through the noise of bets changing hands, around them, enough to make Yujin nod to himself.

The battalion hadn't been in bad shape, when Yujin took it, not the way Jingrui's had been, with their previous Commander dismissed from service, the company captains anxious or wincing, and the sergeants uniformly grim. But Yujin was used to listening for what wasn't said, and that wasn't only useful in keeping a party going cheerfully. He'd watched his men watching him, seen how his captains' shoulders eased down when he'd called them in, that first month, and asked about the distribution of men and equipment across each company, whether anyone needed him to go argue for extra from the Logistics Bureau or needed to be on light duty while they got new men trained up.

The battalion hadn't been in bad shape, but it hadn't been well cared for. It had made Yujin think of what Yan Manor might have been like, without him, for the years his father had had his mind on other things. And that made him smile at Wan Fa with just a bit more teeth than usual, and say cheerfully, "I was thinking of a round unarmed. You interested?"

Jingrui's brows rose for just a moment, because normally an unarmed match was Yujin's chance to get his own back, if he'd lost with swords, but one look at Yujin's smile made Jingrui clap him on the shoulder and agree, brightly, "I wanted to steal Zhen Ping for a little, anyway!"

They exchanged a quick, complicit grin and Jingrui faded back into the onlookers, positively smirking. Yujin sheathed his sword and stepped back out, re-settling himself, waiting for Wan Fa to come at him.

As he'd more than half expected, Wan Fa had no problem with making the first move, and a showy move at that, a broad, circling strike at Yujin's ribs. Yujin's smile thinned, and he shifted for a high, sweeping kick, arm snaking out to lock Wan Fa's against his side as it came in. Wan Fa didn't quite yelp, but his expression looked like he wanted to as he twisted under the kick, only barely pulling free enough to keep from breaking his own arm in the process.

Mostly because Yujin let him.

Wan Fa was glaring when he came in again, this time with a more focused chest strike. Yujin flipped back out of range, easy and springy, and then, to bait him more firmly, flipped up over Wan Fa's head. The 'just swallowed a bug' expression on the man's face as he spun around nearly made Yujin laugh. He knew a lot of people looked at his stocky build and assumed his form would be thin on aerial maneuvers, grounded and strength-based.

And it wasn't as if they were entirely wrong, after all.

Yujin stood his ground as Wan Fa spun into a series of high, scything kicks. He bent back from one, blocked the next cleanly, and then he was far enough inside to wheel on his own center and land a brutal double punch that threw Wan Fa back to the circle of spectators to land in a gasping heap. Yujin came back to a neutral finishing stance, and gave his collapsed opponent a bow and a sunny smile, and whoops went up all around. Yujin laughed and went to give Wan Fa a hand up, as comradely as could be. He wanted to shake the man up, after all, not actually alienate him.

"Dong jie-jie would have twisted your ear off for that flip," Jingrui told him, grinning, as Yujin joined him at the edge of the circle.

"Dong jie-jie isn't here, or I wouldn't have done it." Yujin jostled through the press of men, as they broke up to return to drills, and grabbed a dipper of water. He turned a little, as he drank, casting a quick eye over the training ground, listening for the tone of it the way he'd listen to the tone of a social gathering. The men of his battalion, and for that matter of Jingrui's, were mostly grinning, smug. The few who wore darker expressions were still satisfied, just with a far harder edge of pride in it—he'd already marked most of them as soldiers who'd been at Jiu An, and he added the ones he hadn't known of yet to his mental tally. In turn, Wan Fa's men elbowed each other and rolled their eyes, some exasperated but most only rueful. That was a good sign. He'd ask Zhen Ping to check on that battalion, and make sure their morale (and supplies) really were being kept up reasonably, but it didn't look like more energetic measures would be needed.

"Yujin?" Jingrui asked, softly, stepping closer and turning a little to watch behind him. "What is it?"

"Nothing right now," Yujin murmured, leaning against his shoulder for a moment, warmed by how easily Jingrui still guarded his back. "Just keeping an eye on things." He grinned up at Jingrui. "Ready to go look commanding, Commander Xiao, and make sure your men are doing their drills properly?"

Jingrui drew himself up, managing to look dignified despite the way his eyes were dancing. "Always, Commander Yan."

Yujin gave him a mocking bow, and laughed as Jingrui pulled him along across the training field.

Nothing was wrong right now, and that was why he'd keep an eye out. Yujin didn't intend to be caught in the crossfire of politics and poor choices twice, and he especially didn't intend to let Jingrui be caught, no matter how much of an uphill battle that had always been, against Jingrui's lack of self-preservation.

Jingrui looked up with a satisfied smile as the last of his company captains filed in, and waved the letter with their new orders between his fingers. "Get everything polished up, this week; we're on rotation at that Palace starting next week!"

"Really?" He Niu sounded shocked, and the rest of them were exchanging equally startled looks, some pleased, some alarmed, but all about equally taken aback by the news. Jingrui shook his head at them.

"It's our turn, in the schedule; there's no reason to think we wouldn't be. You can't be held to blame for obeying your commander," he said firmly. Again. He felt a bit like he'd been repeating some variation on this at least once a week for months, now. And it wasn't as though Peng had even been clearly in collusion with Jin's late, unlamented Vice-Commanders. Personally, Jingrui thought it likely the man had just been currying favor with whoever presented themselves above him; he'd seen a lot of similar behavior, since he'd come here, and that, at least, he found understandable, if not at all admirable.

What he found less understandable, and wouldn't have believed if he hadn't heard it from Yujin, was the real reason his men never quite seemed to believe him. It still shocked Jingrui down to the core, what the Emperor had almost done to even the surrendered Qing Li soldiers, what had only been averted by the Crown Prince and High Commander's pleas. To hold a servant to blame for following his master's orders... Jingrui knew he'd been only a middling-good student but even he knew that struck against both the codes of law and the roots of civility itself. The limits on a servant's responsibility, or a soldier's, (or a son's) were all that made obedience a virtue and not some form of madness. Jingrui had been fresh from the orderly (if rather voracious) atmosphere of his blood-father's court, when Yujin had told him the story of Jiu An, and the thought that the Emperor, the nation's source of order, would do such a selfish, chaotic thing had chilled him.

At the same time, and much though the Crown Prince should never have had to do it, Jingyan ge-ge's example had heartened him. If he could follow that example, give the men he was responsible for some of their moral certainty back... well, he'd think that worthwhile work. No matter how many times he had to repeat himself.

His captains ducked their heads at the reminder, He Niu with a sheepish expression.

"Yes, Commander. Sorry, sir."

Jingrui smiled at them. "Just make sure the men are ready. The timing of our rotation means we'll be escort for the Fall Hunt; remind everyone. If there are any who are likely to have trouble at Jiu An, let me know and keep an eye on them." He nodded dismissal to their bows of acknowledgment, and only shook his head ruefully once they were all gone.

"They're getting there, sir," Li Gang said quietly, at his shoulder. "Who else is on this rotation with us?"

"Yujin's battalion, and Wan Fa's, and the First and Third too."

Li Gang snorted a little with amusement. "Everyone Commander Yan has under his wing, then. Probably a good thing."

Jingrui smiled, only a little wryly for the fact that Li Gang was so very right. "Yujin is good at looking after things." He touched the pile of tallies and lists on the side of his writing table. "So, I have the inventory reports, reports from the stables, though I want to double-check those before the Fall Hunt, preliminary patrol schedules for the Palace complex, and I'll be meeting with the other Commanders tomorrow to finalize those..." He looked up at Li Gang with a soft chuckle. "Anything I'm forgetting?"

His sergeant gave him an approving look for asking (he was getting better about that!) and answered, respectfully, "Have you written the City Guard, yet, to arrange the route we'll take to the Palace complex, sir?"

"No," Jingrui sighed, reaching for his brush to jot a note to himself. He was coming to realize, this year, that while he was actually fairly good at command, he was not good at bureaucracy. He was working dutifully, if not exactly enthusiastically, to get better, but he was also starting to have a terrible suspicion that he was going to wind up in Marquis Ning's position some day, buried in reports with a perpetual headache, even if he genuinely managed to avoid politics. He couldn't see any way around it, not if he wanted to actually have enough rank to do some good for the nation his greater clan ruled.

On the other hand, at least Yujin would be with him, and Yujin was very good at this side of things. Jingrui added the first character of Yujin's name to his note, and smiled.

They'd manage together, the way they always had everything. He honestly couldn't imagine it being any other way.

Duty at the Palace complex was a prized and prestigious one. People actually competed for it. There were even rumors people had killed for it, if the High Commander wasn't careful to maintain even rotations of the duty.

Yujin was incredibly bored by it.

He did, actually, understand Vice-Commander Sun's point that boredom was desirable, especially here. But Palace duty involved a great deal of doing nothing. The Imperial Guard detachment stood rigidly in place at their posts. They escorted palace officials on their very brief trips out into the city, to act as the Emperor's voice, or, more commonly these days, as the Crown Prince's voice. They patrolled the Palace complex, keeping a careful eye out for any untoward behavior, of which there had not been any, lately.

And Yujin spent most of his time in the Imperial Guard's offices, writing up duty rosters and patrol patterns without even being able to get out to walk many of the patrols. He'd started debriefing the on-call troops who rode out escorting palace officials, just to have something mildly interesting to do. He'd pulled out all the detailed and confidential maps of the Palace complex their offices contained and baited Jingrui and Wan Fa and Xu Jian and Yuan Kang with the housekeeper's best snacks until they all sat down and drew up freshly optimized patrol routes to submit to the High Commander. He was actually looking forward to the Fall Hunt. He was also starting to understand why the Palace guard detachment trained so very vigorously; it was probably so they didn't die of boredom.

Or, in Jingrui's case, because Meng Zhi was around to train with.

Yujin couldn't help smiling at the delighted grin Jingrui wore as he spun just a breath past Meng's kick, palm driving hard toward Meng's ribs. Not that he connected, but Jingrui looked pleased to have come as close as he had. Jingrui really was adorable, when he was around someone who could teach him. Yujin had thought, more than once, that Zhuo Qingyao was a lot of the reason Jingrui had thrown himself so wholeheartedly into being a son of Tianquan Manor, all those years. Jingrui made a good enough big brother, responsible and kind, but he was a lot better at being a little brother.

"Good afternoon, Commander Yan."

Case in point, Yujin thought, a little wryly, turning to bow to the man who'd come up quietly to stand beside him. "And to you, Vice-Marshal Lin."

Lin Shu chuckled softly at their formalities, folding his arms and joining Yujin in watching Jingrui and Meng separate and then close again, twice as fast as before, both of them grinning. "This is my first chance to see how the two of you are getting on," he murmured. "Jingrui looks to be enjoying himself."

Yujin had to give him a long look, at that, brows raised. "Have Zhen Ping and Li Gang been forgetting to send all their reports? That doesn't seem like them."

His cousin's mouth crimped up at the corners. "My first chance to see for myself," he specified. "They've only kept me generally informed. It's not quite the same." He glanced sidelong at Yujin, smiling. "So, how have you been? Keeping busy?"

Reminded, Yujin made a face and grumbled, "Not very. I'm wondering if the request process over in Logistics and Supply can be streamlined, actually."

Lin Shu made a sound that may have started life as a snort of laughter. "Is there a particular reason you're contemplating take-over of a bureau?"

Yujin sighed. Yes, he'd been afraid that was what it would probably take. "It's not that there are any particular delays, yet, it's just that I was looking at the timing of fulfillment so I could write up the next few months in advance, since I had the time..." He paused, blinking, because Lin Shu had dissolved into helpless laughter.

"Ah." His cousin finally straightened up again. "All right, now I see why Meng da-ge asked me to come speak to you."

Yujin started a little at that. The High Commander had? He glanced up at the practice area where Meng was throwing Jingrui's kick briskly back off crossed arms. It wasn't like he didn't have plenty of opportunities to speak, himself, now Yujin and Jingrui were on Palace duty. A hand closed on his shoulder and shook him gently, and he looked back to see his cousin smiling.

"What he actually said," Lin Shu told him, still amused, "was 'he's getting almost as bad as you used to be, in camp'."

Yujin's eyes widened, and he felt quick heat in his cheeks. Chiyan's brilliant Vice-Marshal was one person he'd never thought to be compared to, even in exasperation.

Lin Shu patted his shoulder and let him go. "You think too much, for ceremonial duty, is all. It's not a bad thing." His mouth quirked up again. "Unless it leads you to start taking over the Ministry of War, one bureau at a time. Save that for when you're a little older."

That was not helping Yujin stop blushing. "Shu-xiong," he protested. "I'm not going to..."

His cousin's eyes sharpened, and he held up a hand, cutting Yujin off. "Yujin, we both know you won't let Jingrui go down this path alone or unguarded."

After a moment, Yujin nodded slowly, mouth a little tight. He wasn't exactly surprised that Lin Shu had seen that particular motive, but he still didn't like having it said out loud. Lin Shu's expression softened a bit. "Don't worry too much, yet. Jingyan and I are watching. We'll make sure nothing happens."

All in a rush, Yujin remembered the warm, easy comfort he'd felt when he was younger, before the Chiyan case, before his first priority had become being able to pull Jingrui back from the capital's political bear-traps. He'd been sure, back then, that nothing too very bad could ever happen, because his cousins would watch over them—Prince Qi, kind and patient, Prince Jing, so strong and steadfast, Lin Shu, bright and fierce. And had Lin Shu not still watched over him, even after it all? He had to swallow hard, blinking back those memories and the echo of them in his cousin's quiet assurance. His voice was a little husky when he answered, "Yes, Shu ge-ge."

For a moment, he thought Lin Shu might ruffle his hair, the way he had back then. Thankfully, given they were surrounded by half of Yujin's battalion, his cousin only smiled and turned to look back at Jingrui and Meng's match, which had now moved on to swords. "For now... hm. Perhaps I'll ask Meng da-ge to let the Guard escort ministers around the city, again, as well as the palace officials."

Yujin perked up at that. That would surely make for far more interesting gossip that he could get. "Did we used to?"

"Before the ministries got so enmeshed in the fight for the throne, yes. Now that there's less danger of the Guard getting pulled in after the ministers, I think it would benefit everyone to take that duty back off the household guards. I'll suggest it." Lin Shu winced at the next step Jingrui took, which was apparently an over-extension, because in the next moment his blade went clattering aside and Meng was at his back with his own sword across Jingrui's throat. Jingrui shook his head ruefully as Meng let him go, but Meng just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"That was better than last time! Try it again." He backed up, beckoning, and Jingrui's smile turned brilliant as he scooped up his sword again and flowed into a low stance.

Lin Shu smiled, wry but not quite as bitter as Yujin thought it would have been two years ago. "I'll suggest it later," he corrected himself.

Yujin couldn't help laughing.

It was a little strange, for Jingrui, to return to Jiu An as a commander of the soldiers who guarded the Emperor and his retinue, after so many years as part of that retinue. Everything was brushed with newness and unfamiliarity, seen from this new angle. The mountain and its forests were still wild and full of life, but hunting the wild creatures was not his focus. The fortress itself was still airy, its long halls gracefully shadowed, but he was in a new wing of it, with new shadows.

Some of them in the eyes of the men around him.

It put a little chill down Jingrui's own spine, to see the bright newness of the gates, set in the middle of the old, scored walls, but some of the men stepped through that new gate into the plaza on the other side and shuddered.

Yujin was one of them.

Jingrui knew he'd been hovering a bit, since they got here. A Yujin who wasn't smiling or frowning or pacing, always expressive and in motion, a Yujin who paused so still he might not be breathing and wore no expression at all for a handful of heartbeats before turning with a smile harder than it was bright, was a Yujin who worried him a little.

And apparently hovering had actually worked, because Yujin had just rolled his eyes and taken Jingrui's hand to slap a stack of reports into it, and told him, in a tone of rare exasperation, to go fill in the rest of the injuries log, if he didn't have anything else to do. That had been more of the usual Yujin than Jingrui had seen since they'd arrived, complete with deeply expressive eye rolling. Jingrui smiled as he scanned down the list of men who'd been involved in Tingsheng's little mishap with a yearling boar. There was someone who'd gotten a wrenched shoulder when his horse threw him, Jingrui was sure, but who had it been?

He almost rolled his eyes at himself when he remembered; it had been one of Wan Fa's men. He was getting as bad as Yujin about casually counting them in among his own.

On the other hand, if they wanted complete accounts, which Yujin clearly did, then he should get the man's name anyway. Jingrui laid down his brush and crossed the small courtyard of their wing to the rooms Wan Fa had taken, rapping lightly on the open screens as he stepped in. "Wan Fa, can I get the name of the man who was injured in that little scuffle with the boar, the other day?"

His fellow Commander looked up from his own paperwork with a snort. "Yan has infected you, too, has he?"

Jingrui couldn't help laughing. "Always, sooner or later."

And clearly Wan Fa wasn't that annoyed, because he got up from his writing table willingly enough and opened up a chest to one side. "Just a minute, then."

Jingrui waited politely while Wan Fa dug out what looked like the list of his whole command, though he couldn't help raising a brow at the fact that Wan Fa apparently didn't have any more concise reports of the incident handy. Possibly it was a good thing Wan Fa had his back turned. Jingrui glanced over his writing table, a little curious to see what he was doing, if not writing up the reports he really should have ready. A familiar hand caught his eye, on the top of a letter sticking out from underneath a few other reports. Had Yujin been sending notes over already? Alright, perhaps Jingrui could understand a little huffing, if so...

A chill uncurled down his spine, though, as the realization settled into his mind: Jingrui recognized it, but that wasn't Yujin's writing.

It was his sister's.

Yuwen Nian wrote to him often, and he replied as often and kindly as he could, knowing she was still disappointed that he had not stayed in his blood-father's court long enough to escort her wedding journey north. Knowing how impetuous she could be, he could well believe she might have written to any Da Liang officer she knew to be in contact with him for more news. What he couldn't image was why any officer of Da Liang would keep or reply to a letter from the highest ranking Princess of what was, after all, an enemy state.

He stole a quick look at Wan Fa, who was muttering under his breath as he wound through his long scroll, and set his fingertips on the letter, inching it out from under the reports it lay under until he could slide it into his sleeve.

"Ah! That was it, it was Lu Qiang." Wan Fa turned and caught up his brush to jot down the characters on a bit of clear report paper and tore the strip neatly off to hand to Jingrui. "Was that all?"

"Yes," Jingrui said, as calmly as he could, taking the slip. "Thank you." He sketched a short parting bow and made for his own rooms with a quick stride. He hoped this would turn out to be nothing but one of his sister's headstrong whims, the letter one that Wan Fa simply hadn't had a moment to burn, yet.

He really hoped.

Yujin was just putting away his sword, after cleaning, when Jingrui burst into his rooms, so abruptly that Yujin nearly drew on him. "Jingrui, what...?"

"Yujin," Jingrui interrupted, only to stop short, looking over his shoulder. "Not here. Come on." He seized Yujin's arm and more or less dragged him out and down the interior passage.

"Jingrui!" Yujin tugged loose once he'd managed to catch up, frowning at the set look on Jingrui's face. "What's wrong?"

Jingrui's jaw tightened. "Not here," he repeated, and didn't say another word until he'd led them back into one of the unused inner halls. Once there, where, Yujin couldn't help noticing, the doors and screens he'd left open in their wake gave them very clear line of sight in all directions, he thumped down onto the hall's veranda and put his head in his hands.

"...Jingrui?" Yujin settled slowly beside him, watching him closely. "What happened?"

Jingrui didn't look up, but he did fish a letter out of his sleeve and hold it out. "This. Read this."

Yujin frowned, quickly turning over, in the back of his mind, the tally of who might have news that could make Jingrui look like this. When he saw the letter was addressed to Wan Fa, not Jingrui, he just blinked. "What...?"

"Read it," Jingrui insisted, and the flatness of his voice made Yujin settle back and unfold the letter.

My thanks, once again, for your news of my honored brother, Commander Wan. It has been a great comfort to know he is well!

Yujin put down the letter and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "She didn't really."

"She really did," Jingrui sighed. "I'm sure she didn't mean any harm at all, she just doesn't think things through sometimes."

Yujin found that a little rich, coming from Jingrui. Though Jingrui had been getting better. Maybe it just ran in the family? He stifled a groan over how much coaxing was likely going to be required to get Nian to stop this—especially when she could, with at least a small amount of justice, insist that she was betrothed to an Imperial prince and could write to Imperial officers if she wanted to—and glanced down the rest of the letter. He froze when his eyes got to the last fold.

"Yes," Jingrui said, tone suddenly flat and grim again. "That part."

The last bit was written in a different hand, smaller, as if it had been added as an afterthought. Or, more likely, without the Princess' knowledge.

We always welcome news from you, and you rise higher in my cousin's esteem all the time. One hopes that Da Liang values such a perceptive officer as he deserves.

Yuwen Xuan, Prince Ling

Yujin had found out more about the court of Southern Chu, after Jingrui had left to visit there. Their current king, Jingrui's father by blood, was said to have mellowed a little, as he aged, and was currently concentrated on assimilating Chu's recent conquests rather than expanding the borders again, but no one believed that would last long. Many of the younger nobles, Prince Ling vocal among them, were in favor of new forays to bite off land to the north. And now Prince Ling had found a path to communicate with an ambitious officer within the Imperial Guard of Da Liang. He'd most likely been the one to provide the Princess, his cousin, with a way to send secret letters north in the first place, and the one who had, almost certainly, given that phrasing, sent this letter on its way with some token of his own 'esteem'.

In short, the one who was trying to suborn a Commander of the Imperial Guard.

Yujin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at the letter. What a mess. "Well, first we need to convince your sister to stop writing to Wan Fa."

Jingrui surged up off the veranda and stalked back and forth across the small garden below it, scowling. "No, the first thing we have to do is report Wan Fa! No matter how foolish Nian-er is being, it's Wan who's passing information to the prince of an enemy nation!"

"We don't know that!" Yujin said, sharply, trying not to think about all the gruesome things Dong-jie had let slip, over the years, about how investigations around the Palace usually went. He would have expected Jingrui to be the one most against risking any such thing. "We don't know that he's done anything more than send news of you, personally."

"Which means Wan is passing on information about a Commander of the Imperial Guard. And probably more that was addressed to Prince Ling separately. You saw what he wrote! Admiring how 'perceptive' Wan is." Jingrui's mouth was tight, and his eyes hard. "And Wan is using my sister to do it, just as much as Yuwen Xuan is."

Yujin bit his lip for a moment. Now Jingrui's anger made sense; he'd become doubly protective of his family ties after losing so many of them. "But Jingrui... if we report this officially, the Emperor will hear of it."

That stopped Jingrui's furious pacing, at least for a few breaths, though his eyes were still dark. "We can just report it to the High Commander, then."

"Who's sworn directly to the Emperor!" Yujin threw up his hands, exasperated. "Do you know what would happen to him as soon as the Emperor got the tiniest hint of him withholding information?"

Jingrui's temper sparked again. "So we'll tell the Crown Prince! You can't tell me he can't keep a secret from the Emperor!"

Yujin made an inarticulate sound of frustration. He knew Jingrui didn't always think things through, and it was clearly a family trait, but he had to know better than that. "Like the Crown Prince taking direct action to discipline a Guard Commander isn't going to be talked about?!"

"We have to do something!"

Frustration pushed Yujin to his feet as well. "If you'll just stop for a minute..."

"No," Jingrui said, harshly, eyes burning, hand sweeping up as if to strike Yujin's words aside. "Not this time!" He started to storm past Yujin, and Yujin reached out to catch his arm, frustration suddenly sharpening into fear, fear that Jingrui would push himself into the Emperor's notice after all, and all the risk of destruction that notice brought with it.

"Jingrui...!"

Jingrui half-turned, sharply, throwing off his hand.

Yujin felt his face turn cold and stiff as blood drained from it, felt his eyes widening, felt his breath stop in his lungs for a long moment as he stood, hand still stretched out toward Jingrui. When he managed to take a breath again, his knees shook, along with the air in his chest, and he stumbled down to the edge of the veranda again. "Jingrui?" This time it was barely a whisper.

At least Jingrui had stopped. At least that.

After a long moment, Jingrui sighed and stepped back toward him. "Sorry. But I can't just stop this time, Yujin; I have to do something."

"All right." His voice was still rough, and all the fear in him had turned over, turned inward, turned sharp and cutting to hear Jingrui say only I. He reached up to catch Jingrui's sleeve, fingers closing white-knuckled in the fabric. "All right, we will, just..." the words pushed out, and he was shaking too much, inside, to stop them, "don't leave."

"I wasn't... I mean, not leaving leaving. You know that." Jingrui took another step closer, frowning down at him a little, puzzled. "Yujin?"

"No, it's fine." Yujin tried to pull himself together, to brush the spike of cold panic off with a smile, but he could feel it waver, unconvincing.

It probably didn't help that he couldn't make himself let go of Jingrui. But Jingrui had left once, even if he'd come back. And he'd been going to leave for the same cause this time, hadn't he? Family, it was always family with them, and this time it had caused Jingrui to show Yujin his back, just like Yujin's father always had, for so long. Shouldn't he be afraid, then? He felt like his thoughts fractured on that question.

"Yujin." Jingrui sat down again, beside him, hand covering his, still fisted in Jingrui's sleeve. The warmth of it cut through the tangle of Yujin's thoughts, and he looked up to see Jingrui looking more concerned than angry. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, really." Yujin felt like this smile was maybe a little more successful. "I'm just... I don't..." It would be better if he could get his words out in order, but he wasn't even sure, himself, what they should be. "I didn't mean to say I wouldn't help." That was better.

Jingrui ducked his head a little, looking penitent. "No, I know. I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, thumb running over Yujin's still-white knuckles, and he was frowning when he looked up. "Yujin?"

Yujin finally managed to force his fingers open, glancing away as he retrieved his hand. Or, at least, tried to. Jingrui's fingers caught his again, half way. "Tell me what it was you were thinking of doing, then," Jingrui said, quietly.

Yujin swallowed to get his heart back down out of his throat, not looking down to see his hand folded with Jingrui's. "Well. If Nian stops writing, then that gets her out of the line of fire, on the Chu end. And Wan Fa will already have had a scare, when he can't find that letter. If we let him know that we'll have to report any further communication, I think that will stop him. Without any of this getting back to the Emperor." He looked back at Jingrui, intent and serious. "Because if the Emperor gets any hint of collusion with an enemy state, we don't know how many he might order executed, and you're right in the middle of it."

Jingrui's eyes widened, and he flushed red. "Yujin." He reached out and pulled Yujin close, hands closing tight in the back of his robes. "I'm sorry. I was an idiot."

Yujin leaned into him, nearly shaking with the sudden release of tension. "Yes," he managed, against Jingrui's shoulder, a little husky. "You are. But that's okay, that's what I'm for."

Jingrui's huff of laughter against his ear, light and teasing, nearly made him melt with relief. "Are you sure? I thought it was for the comic relief."

Yujin elbowed him, finally managing to laugh, himself, and they both sat back, smiling.

That was all he needed, really.

Jingrui had felt like the worst friend imaginable, when he'd finally realized what Yujin's real concern was, and all the more so because Yujin's plan worked. Wan Fa was applying himself strictly to the business of his battalion and had started fading to the back of any gathering that included Jingrui or Yujin with nervous, sidelong glances at them. And perhaps Jingrui's own guilt over his temper was what made him pay a little more attention than usual. He kept remembering the white-knuckled clench of Yujin's hand on his sleeve. For whatever reason, he'd really scared Yujin, and he had no wish to do it again.

The reason had finally clicked, for him, a week after they'd all returned from the Fall Hunt, when he'd stopped by the Yan Manor in the morning, to ride in to the Palace complex together.

Yujin had been coming down the stairs of the inner hall, as Jingrui passed through the first courtyard, and he'd laughed and called, "You're actually out of bed early! Should I mark the date specially?"

Yujin had elevated his nose. "A gentleman maintains moderation in everything. Besides, Father wasn't here for breakfast, today."

There'd been a flicker of darkness in his eyes, and it had come to Jingrui, abruptly, that it was the same darkness he'd seen when Yujin was staring at him, stiff and pale, that day. The same darkness Jingrui had seen Yujin push so determinedly away for years, whenever his father came up. The darkness of an empty house, echoing around them, and nobody in it but them and the servants. That was the moment it had come to him that he'd nearly walked away from Yujin, nearly left him in a literally empty hall, that day.

The worst friend ever.

So he tried to stay closer, for a while, to stop in after drills to ask whether Yujin had taken over any more ministry paperwork, yet; to glance at Yujin's schedule to be extra sure they'd meet in the training yard to spar together; to wrap an arm around Yujin's shoulders when he pulled his friend toward the gates in the evening, to head home (where, more often than not, he'd stay until Marquis Yan also arrived home). And, perhaps because he was paying extra attention, he'd noticed the thread of tension, in Yujin, that seemed to ease every time Jingrui touched him. Noticing that, of course he'd done it more often, let his arm lay there longer, and taken satisfaction in feeling Yujin's shoulders drop just that little bit.

Which had gotten them to today.

A late autumn storm had chased everyone indoors who could go, and after making sure that the men had cleared all the equipment off the drill grounds, Jingrui and Yujin dashed for the Guard offices, though the cold rain, piling inside on each other's heels. Jingrui's arm found its way around Yujin's shoulders out of growing habit, and they leaned against each other, breathless from cold and laughing a little. Yujin wiped rivulets of rain off his face, leaning into Jingrui more firmly for a moment as he tossed back his head, hands sweeping the wetness back over his hair. Jingrui sputtered as a few drops hit him in the face.

"Yujin!"

Yujin grinned up at him, bright and teasing. "Hm? Was there something?"

And Jingrui felt his heart turn over, at the same time his awareness of Yujin's body against his escaped his control and unfurled like eager spring leaves.

"Only the honorable Commander Yan's lack of manners," he shot back automatically, and Yujin's laugh shivered down his nerves, made him tighten his hand on Yujin's shoulder. Yujin leaned back into him, easy and relaxed, and Jingrui had to swallow a little hard.

Probably the only thing that kept him from doing something rather rash right there in the entry room was the pointed clearing of a throat behind him. He and Yujin finally broke apart and stepped further in, to let Li Gang get inside after them. Jingrui gave his sergeant a slightly sheepish smile in return for his dryly raised brows, and the moment passed.

For now.

Jingrui retreated to his writing table to stare at the patrol rosters blankly, thoughts in complete disarray. He'd thought, for years now, that Yujin must not have any interest in men; if he had, well, surely Jingrui would have heard about it, wouldn't he? He'd teased Yujin, often enough, about the time he spent flirting with shop girls and courtesans alike. So he'd turned his thoughts away from the idea of ever having Yujin like that, sunk himself deeper into the oneness of heart, between them, and refrained from touching too much. But the easy way Yujin leaned into him... was Jingrui deceiving himself, that there was acceptance, and maybe even hunger, in it?

The thought lodged itself in the back of his mind with a firmness that said he wasn't going to be able to just ignore it any more.

So perhaps... perhaps he could test it, a little, instead? Carefully, of course, but if he was right, if Yujin did welcome his touch, then just maybe...

Jingrui smiled and picked up the top report, bending over it with a better will than usual.

"This is your fault; you jinxed us."

"I did not!" Zhen Ping looked over his shoulder at where their Commanders had their heads together over a plan for cavalry drill. Yujin had his whole body oriented on Jingrui, and Jingrui was stealing soft little glances at Yujin whenever Yujin wasn't looking. "This is not my fault," he muttered.

"The heavens were listening." Despite this contention, Li Gang held out a flask to him. "Drink?"

"We're on duty," Ping said, not with a great deal of conviction.

On the other side of the Guard offices, Yujin elbowed Jingrui indignantly for whatever he'd just said, and Jingrui threw an arm around his shoulders, laughing, pulling him close for a breath. For the space of that breath, Yujin relaxed against him, grin softening.

Li Gang gave Ping a speaking look and shook the flask invitingly.

Ping accepted it with a sigh, and took a long drink.

For the most part, Yujin was pleased with his life at the moment. Palace duty had ended, and he'd left behind a legacy of reporting procedure for all Guards on escort duty. He was fairly sure Lin Shu had been the one to insist it be continued, which he tried not to blush like a little boy over. The Jin army's field drills, battalion against battalion, had arrived as promised, which was fascinating. Yujin was not a fan of battles, or the idiocy that seemed to lead up to them, but the strategy of maneuver caught his imagination.

Unfortunately, being out in the field, beyond the city, seemed to have revived one of what Yujin personally considered Jingrui's worst habits—waking him up early.

Yujin was not, by nature, an early riser. Jingrui, however, was, and when they traveled, he sometimes decided that Yujin should be as well. Yujin invariably got revenge, one way or another, but apparently it had been too long since he last did, because Jingrui had taken to visiting his tent at ridiculous hours to wake him.

At the first whisper of canvas being pushed aside, Yujin pulled the covers over his head.

"Commander Yan," Jingrui called, light and teasing. "Good morning!"

Yujin made a wordless sound intended to convey that it was not morning, yet.

"Time to get up," Jingrui declared, in defiance of all reason, coming to tweak the covers down.

Yujin yanked them back up by reflex. "Still dark," he mumbled.

"Of course it's dark, with the covers over your head." Jingrui yanked them down again.

Yujin swiped at him without opening his eyes and snatched the covers back, diving under them with a growl.

Jingrui had the gall to laugh. Yujin stayed stubbornly still for as long as he could before admitting that he was actually awake, but eventually he had to give in. He shoved the covers back and glared up at Jingrui. "I will kill you slowly," he declared.

Jingrui positively grinned down at him, eyes sparkling, entirely too awake for not-quite-sunrise. "After breakfast?" he suggested.

"I will poison your food," Yujin threatened, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Once you're awake enough to," Jingrui taunted, and then chuckled as Yujin pushed himself upright. "You're a mess, after fighting with the covers like that."

He ran a hand over Yujin's hair, hopefully smoothing it down a little, and Yujin was still drowsy enough to lean into it. "Mm. Whose fault is that?" He took a breath and blinked himself a little more alert, only to realize that he was still leaning into Jingrui's hand, which had settled along his cheek. "...Jingrui?"

Jingrui colored and drew his hand back. "Sorry. Should I not?" He looked disappointed, Yujin realized, slowly.

Yujin was going to blame the way he caught Jingrui's retreating hand on not being awake, though that wasn't the whole truth by any means. "No, it's fine, I just..."

Yujin had been perfectly aware of the silent apology in Jingrui's increased tendency to touch, to drape an arm over his shoulders, to lean against him. To be honest, he'd been enjoying it very much. But this was different; this was starting to spill over into the kind of thing he'd never expected from Jingrui. At least, not directed at himself.

"I thought it was Lin Shu ge-ge, with you," he finally said, quietly, trying to stifle any urge to hope. "I mean... even when we didn't know it was him..."

Jingrui just blinked at him, sitting back on his heels beside Yujin's bed, hand resting easily in Yujin's grip. "Well, but that's different." Yujin raised both brows, because he remembered very clearly the way Jingrui had always tagged after Lin Shu, with shining eyes, and dragged Yujin along. Jingrui ducked his head a little and added, "It's you I never wanted to be apart from."

The way he smiled, sweet and open, made Yujin's chest squeeze tight, made him breathless with the dawning realization that this wasn't a mistake or the result of wanting so much that he saw what wasn't there. "Oh." He took a breath and reached up, fingers shaking just a little bit, to touch Jingrui's cheek. "Me too."

Jingrui's smile turned brighter at that, so simply and openly happy that it made Yujin forget to breathe for a moment. "I'm glad." Jingrui turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to Yujin's fingers.

Yujin made a small, wordless sound, at that, unable to catch it back, not when everything he'd thought was too much to ask for had fallen suddenly into his lap. Jingrui looked back at him, chewing his lip for a moment, before taking a breath and leaning in. His glance was a little shy, under his lashes, but hopeful, and Yujin was as helpless as he'd ever been to resist that. He leaned forward to meet Jingrui, and the brush of Jingrui's mouth over his made him close his eyes, every sense narrowing down to this touch, this moment.

"Oh," he said, softly, as their lips parted, feeling the reality of it all settle into his heart.

"Yes," Jingrui answered, just as soft.

They sat there, smiling breathlessly at each other as sunrise finally lit the walls of the tent white.

The last exercise, in this year's field drills, set double battalions against each other, as if they were vanguards clashing in the first engagement of a battle. It was the kind of exercise that was, honestly, more to Jingrui's taste than maneuver of huge blocks of soldiers, even if he knew that maneuver was preferable to engagement, if it could be managed. This was practice, though, he told himself virtuously, as he urged his horse to the front of their running line, and he needed more practice converting his sword form to the balance of horseback. And also in not letting himself get too caught up in trying to convert everything.

Or, as Li Gang had succinctly put it, after Jingrui's first few horseback drills, "Less dueling, sir, more hacking."

And, best of all, today he was paired with Yujin again, could see Yujin's quick-footed black coming up beside him, from the corner of his eye, could catch the way Yujin was shaking his head but still grinning.

And then it was time to close his knees tight around his horse, shift his weight forward with the sweep of his sword and the momentum of their gallop, and bash one of the other side's company Captains soundly out of the saddle. It registered, in the back of his head, that with anything but the blunted wood they were given for the drill, it would have been a disemboweling cut, but the thought was distant, subsumed in the urgency of another target in front of him, and then another, the press of horses lunging against and between each other—

—and, abruptly, the awareness that he'd outpaced his own men just a little too much.

He ducked under the jab of a spear from one side while blocking the swing a sword on the other, tried to send his horse forward so he could get space to turn, but he was hemmed in too close. This, the back of his head informed him, was why Li Gang kept looking disapproving of how fast Jingrui went during horseback drills. Jingrui gritted his teeth and heaved against the swordsman on his right side, swung his sword around to strike down another jab from the spear, risked pulling one foot free of the stirrup to kick the swordsman solidly in the hip, and that was one side about to be open...

A completely unorthodox but painfully effective sideways sweep from the spear hit him in the ribs and swept him right out of the saddle. The ground smashed the breath out of him, and for a long moment he could only gasp for air and be grateful that his horse was stepping to the side rather than on top of him. A furious shout rang out above and behind him, and he hauled himself up to his knees just in time to see Yujin sweep past him, cutting down the spearman, and the swordsman behind him, with two brutal strokes, barely a pause between them. Zhen Ping galloped past on Yujin's heels, both swords out, guarding his back as Yujin set his position and two charging soldiers broke against it, one down and the other pulling his horse around to retreat. Jingrui grabbed at his horse's stirrup to pull himself further up, staring. And perhaps he'd banged his head on the way down, but what was floating through his mind right now was something Zhen Ping had said months ago, when they were all still on duty at the Palace.

He'd been teasing Yujin about how Vice-Commander Sun might take his proposed improved patrol routes, and Yujin had been insisting roundly that the logic of them would be obvious to anyone. Jingrui had actually been a little rueful about not being able to see it, himself, before Yujin had explained it, and apparently their sergeants had caught that fact.

"You'll probably start to see it soon, sir," Zhen Ping had said, looking up from the gear he'd been cleaning. "You see it clearly on the smaller scale already, don't you? Where your opponent is likely to step or cut next."

Jingrui had cocked his head, curious. "You think it's the same thing?"

Zhen Ping had smiled a little, wryly. "The Vice-Marshal always said it was, and the way he talked about seeing the movement of a battle... I think he's right. I can't do it with more than a squad, myself, but it really did sound like the same thing."

And now, watching the brief, clear wake Yujin's savage attack left, watching the way the other vanguard was drawing back toward the right like a swordsman shifting his weight, the swift gathering of horses like an arm drawing back to strike, Jingrui did see it. Saw it and saw how it would sweep over Yujin's position, the opening he'd made, and threw himself back up into the saddle, hauling in a deep breath.

"Third Company forward! Now!"

He heard the horn repeat the order, behind him, saw the company to his left start to move, like his own sword sweeping in to meet the opponent's, and kicked his horse forward to join Yujin, ignoring the painful jar of bruises. After all, it was the two of them who were going to be the hand that pushed the opponent back off balance.

Yujin looked around as Jingrui came up beside him, Zhen Ping sliding to the side to let him through, and the set, furious darkness of his expression lightened. Jingrui leaned out to clap a hand on his shoulder. "One more push forward?" he called, and was glad to see Yujin's head come up, turning to take in the field around them, before his friend gave him a firm nod.

Jingrui was grinning as their horses leaped forward again, together this time.

Lin Shu had already gotten reports from both Li Gang and Zhen Ping, so he was unsurprised to hear Vice-Commander Sun's voice raised, as he approached Meng da-ge's offices.

"...never putting them on the same side of an exercise again! The physicians are nearly in revolt, half of Eighth battalion is terrified of Yan and the other half is enamored of Xiao, and thanks to the fact that they won I'm going to have to deal with idiots trying to imitate them!"

"Bear with it for a handful more years, if you'd be so kind," Lin Shu said, stepping into the room and exchanging nods with Meng da-ge, who was looking wryly amused and possibly a bit envious of the fun the boys had had during the field exercise. Sun Wen, on the other hand, looked suspicious.

"And what is it that will happen in a few years, Vice-Marshal?" he asked, a little stiffly. Lin Shu mentally marked down another who was uncomfortable with his lack of a clearly defined position, here in the capital.

"In another few years, I expect Xiao Jingrui will be promoted." Lin Shu raised inquiring brows at Meng, who nodded, judiciously. "When that happens, Yan Yujin will retire—from the military, at least. He won't be able to protect Jingrui without a political position, at that point, and he's spent far too long guarding Jingrui from politics for it to be imagined that he'll give it up, now."

"I can't argue that he's fiercest in Xiao Jingrui's defense," Sun Wen said, slowly. "That's where a quarter of the broken bones in the vanguard exercise came from." He gave Lin Shu a long look. "Are you saying you want us to encourage that, in someone going into politics?"

Lin Shu turned one hand palm-up with a little shrug. "It is what it is, Vice-Commander. I'm saying nothing any of us do will change it. Therefore, the best course of action is to place the two of them where it will be most beneficial. Jingrui's leadership and example, his sense of loyalty and righteousness, will be of great benefit in the Imperial Guard, and his presence there will ensure that Yujin's efforts are bent toward maintaining the integrity of our armies and preventing internal strife." Sun Wen was looking increasingly sour as he listened to this, and Lin Shu smiled faintly, adding, "It's also where they'll be happiest. They wouldn't stay there, if it weren't."

Sun Wen sat back, at that, eyeing him. "I trust you'll excuse me if I still try to reduce Yan's tendency to extreme action, while I have him," he said, at last, rather dryly.

"Not at all." Lin Shu tapped one of the taller stacks of report folios on Meng's writing table. "You might also consider keeping him busy by putting him in charge of some intelligence and analysis."

Meng da-ge snorted, obviously remembering Yujin's rotation at the Palace, and the new reporting structure that had resulted from his boredom, very clearly. "I'll approve that."

Lin Shu smiled, satisfied. Yujin needed a new information network, now he had less time to spend in the capital's social circles. This would be a good start. In another handful of years, Yujin would enter Ministry politics well equipped. And, once he had more leverage in the political arena, perhaps Yujin would calm a little from his fever-pitch of protectiveness.

They could hope, at any rate. After all, it had worked on Lin Shu, when he was thirteen and furious over Jingyan going into the field without him.

"...and Zhang Ying will be back on duty next month."

Jingrui made a quick note on his roster of those injured in the field exercises. "Good; I hoped that wouldn't be a bad break." Reminded, he frowned and glanced up at Li Renshu, captain of his Sixth Company. "What about Wu Shen?"

Li looked gratified that his fourth squad leader had been remembered, which Jingrui was pleased to see—six months ago, he'd have been surprised. Every now and then, Jingrui was still possessed of an urge to hunt down these men's previous Commander and kick him soundly in the behind. Not for the little cravenness of following questionable orders, but for leaving these men so uncertain of their purpose and worth that the smallest gestures reassured them so.

"He won't be cleared for full-length drills for another few weeks, but he's back on his feet, Commander."

Jingrui sat back from his table with a satisfied smile. "We'll be back up to full strength, then. Good. Is there anything else I need to know of before I write up the battalion's monthly report?"

His company captains shook their heads with murmurs of "No, sir," and "No, Commander," and Jingrui nodded approval and dismissal. He jotted down one last note, as they filed out, and stretched his arms over his head, glancing at the water clock. It was definitely time for him to head home.

The way from his office, through the barracks that housed his battalion's soldiers, and around their drill field, was familiar by now, and Jingrui absently noted to himself the old planking he'd been meaning to ask to get repaired, nodded to the squads changing watch as they stood aside for him, paused to raise an eyebrow at the wrestling competition that spilled off the edge of the drill grounds into his path, trying to stifle the grin that really wanted to break free. He thought his men might have seen it anyway from the sheepish but unalarmed way they ducked their heads as they scrambled back out of his way. By the time he reached the gate to their block of the ward, his horse was waiting for him.

It felt comfortable, to have his battalion around him. Welcoming and stable, in a way he hadn't really felt for three years. His mother's manor still echoed with the breaking of his family, if only because she was there and still mourned. When he traveled outside the cities, he was always a little tense, part of him always watching out of the corner of his eye for any sign of his other family, and flinching every time he caught himself at it, because he had no right. Here, though, he could feel again that loosening in his chest, the complete ease of his breath, that came from knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he belonged to these men, and they to him.

And here, of course, he still had the one constant that had been his all his life, still so one in thought that he wasn't at all surprised to see Yujin turn onto the central road just ahead of him and rein in to wait for him.

"I bet your monthly report is finished already," he said, in greeting, and Yujin laughed as he nudged his horse forward again.

"Of course it is. Unlike some, I know how to be efficient. That's how I caught up with you so easily, despite being born later."

"Ah," Jingrui nodded, wisely. "This is what they call the genius of laziness, I see."

The guards on the east gate of the quarter were stifling grins as they stood back to let Jingrui and Yujin pass. Out of the north-west quarter, the roads were too busy for much conversation, and they rode in companionable silence until they reached Yan Manor. Yujin glanced sidelong at him.

"Will you come in?"

Jingrui's breath hitched a little at the heat and uncertainty in that look, so close a match for his own feelings, of late, that he couldn't help the rueful smile that tugged at his mouth. "Yes," he answered softly. "I'd like that."

He'd grown up as much in Yan Manor as in his own house, but today he found himself not quite knowing where to step, what to do with his sword, what to do with himself once the doors of the east wing were closed behind them. He looked over to find Yujin looking back, chewing on his lip. Their eyes caught, both wide and uncertain, but as one moment and then another slipped by, Jingrui saw Yujin start to smile, felt his own answering smile spreading, and then they were laughing, reaching out to each other as easily as ever, and when he caught his breath again Yujin was folded tight in his arms and he could feel the solid strength of Yujin's arms around him.

From there it only made sense to lean in and kiss him.

Yujin's arms tightened around his ribs, and his mouth opened against Jingrui's, turning the kiss softer, hotter—a wet, hungry slide of lips and tongue that put a shiver down Jingrui's spine. When they finally drew back a little, though, Jingrui had to take a moment to understand what he was seeing. Yujin's lips were parted in a way that made Jingrui want to dive right back into the kiss. But his eyes were wide, soft, wondering, and that made Jingrui stop. He was fairly sure that, of the two of them, Yujin was the more experienced in this kind of thing. Why wondering, then? "Yujin?" he asked, softly.

Yujin shook his head, and this laugh was barely there, just an unsteadiness in his breath. "I never thought..."

There it was, again, and Jingrui freed a hand to touch his cheek. "Why not, if you wanted it?" He had a hard time imagining anything he would deny Yujin. Surely the one person he'd shared the whole of his life with didn't think a crush Jingrui had always known was hopeless would really stand in his way?

Now Yujin looked exasperated and pummeled him lightly on the shoulder. "Because I thought you were in love with someone else. That you've been in love with him since we were barely old enough to know what that meant!" He looked down and added, low, "And I didn't want to come second."

That closed around Jingrui's heart like a fist clenching, and he pulled Yujin tight against him. "Yujin..." He could feel the tension in Yujin's body, against his, and stroked open hands up and down his back, trying to soothe it. Yujin pressed close, silent, and he spoke quietly, against Yujin's ear. "I suppose I always have been a little in love with Lin Shu ge-ge. But I'm not actually blind, and I always knew there'd never be anything there, not for me. You..." he leaned his forehead against Yujin's. "You've always been there for me, Yujin. You're like my breath, my heartbeat." He laughed, a little unsteady in his turn, arms tightening. "I don't even know how to speak of love, to you, because you're so much, to me. You could never come second to anyone."

He could hear the way that made Yujin's breath hitch, sharply, feel the tremor that went through him. "Why didn't you speak, then?" Yujin asked, husky.

"Well, I didn't think you liked men that way!" Jingrui protested. "I mean it was always the shop girls you were flirting with."

Yujin dissolved into laughter against his shoulder, and took a while to stop. That was all right, though, because he didn't let go the entire time. When he lifted his head, Jingrui wasn't surprised to see wetness on his cheeks, but there was a familiar smile, too, bright and rueful. "Well, I didn't want to put you off, if you ever did decide to get over him and speak up." He grinned at Jingrui's exasperated sound and scrubbed a palm over his cheek.

Jingrui smiled, soft and helpless, and reached up to wipe away the wetness on the other side, and then had to catch his breath at the way Yujin's whole face softened, expression turning open and unguardedly happy as he turned his head into Jingrui's hand.

"It's easier for me to see women's beauty," Yujin said, softly, lifting a hand to lay over Jingrui's. "But I can see the beauty in men, too." He looked up to meet Jingrui's gaze, eyes dark. "I've seen it in you, for years."

Jingrui had to swallow at the curl of deep, soft warmth that sent through him, and now he thought he understood the wonder a little better. "Yujin..."

This time, it was Yujin who leaned in to kiss him, hands sliding up over his shoulders to close around his face, and Jingrui was entirely content to relax into that gentle hold. Yujin kissed him again and again, soft little sips of kisses that made Jingrui open his mouth against Yujin's, tongue darting out to stroke against his and coax him deeper. It seemed to work, because Yujin relaxed against him, and he was smiling when he drew back.

"Jingrui. Let me try something?"

Normally, those words, matched to the sparkle in Yujin's eyes, might have made him a little wary, but here and now Jingrui couldn't imagine anything he wouldn't be happy to let Yujin do. "Of course."

Yujin laced their fingers together and tugged him through the outer rooms, toward Yujin's bed. Another sidelong look, questioning and a bit shy, made Jingrui smile, tightening his hold on Yujin's hand before reaching for his own sashes to undo them. Yujin only let him get his outer robe untied, though, before coming to him, his own inner robe still trailing off his shoulders, and laying his hands over Jingrui's. Very softly, eyes steady and serious, he asked, "Let me?"

Jingrui's breath drew in swiftly, a tiny shiver running over him at the earnestness of that question. He had to swallow hard before he could answer, and his voice was husky when he said, "Yes. Always."

Yujin smiled, quick and brilliant as a lightning strike, and it stole Jingrui's breath all over again, to see how much it meant to Yujin, that Jingrui would welcome this small intimacy, would promise it to Yujin's hands and care. He stood quiet while Yujin undressed him, turning with his gentle nudges. Yujin's hands were so careful, on him, that it made Jingrui have to blink back wetness in his eyes. When he was finally bare, and Yujin had come to stand in front of him, hands resting on his shoulders, the soft satisfaction in Yujin's smile finally crystallized what this was telling Jingrui's heart.

"You've always been taking care of me, haven't you?" he asked, softly.

"As well as I could," Yujin answered, simply.

Jingrui had to swallow again, but he was smiling when he reached out and slid his hands down the open collar of Yujin's robes. "Will you let me take care of you, now?"

Yujin blinked, very much as if the notion had never occurred to him, but then he smiled, small and pleased, ducking his head a little. "Yes. If you like."

"Of course I like." Jingrui tipped his chin back up and kissed him, softly, promising again, against his mouth, "Always."

Yujin's breath caught, and Jingrui kissed him one more time, gentle, before setting about divesting Yujin of his inner robe and undergarments, just as carefully, as tenderly, as he could, hoping to ease the fragile edge on the hope in Yujin's face. When he was done, he gathered Yujin tight against him, and repeated softly, against his ear, "Always." The fierce tightening of Yujin's arms around him was enough to drive his breath out, and he would have pursued the issue further—surely Yujin knew they were for always?—but Yujin drew back and tugged him down to the bed.

"Let me?" he asked again, pressing Jingrui back against the stacked pillows.

"Of course. Anything you... want..." Jingrui's answer ended rather breathlessly, as Yujin nudged his knees apart and settled between them, leaning on his elbows. Yujin looked up at him under his lashes, with that wicked sparkle back in his eyes. Jingrui made a wordless sound that was definitely not a squeak, as Yujin leaned down—a sound that dissolved into a moan as Yujin's tongue ran up the length of him, hot and slick. Yujin made a pleased sound of his own and leaned down further, wrapping his mouth around Jingrui.

Jingrui had already been most of the way hard, just from touching as they'd undressed each other, but now it felt like all the blood in his body was rushing to fill his cock. He could feel every movement of Yujin's lips and tongue, against him, and each soft, wet stroke sent a thrill of pleasure up his spine, leaving him gasping. "Yujin..."

"Mmmm?"

The vibration of Yujin's mouth around him wrung a groan out of him, hot sensation bursting wildly down his nerves. Jingrui clutched at the folded covers under him, completely unable to stop the little upward jerks of his hips. After some hesitation, Yujin finally folded his arms over Jingrui's hips and leaned his weight on them, making a pleased sound as he slid his mouth back down and Jingrui found himself without enough leverage to move. Jingrui moaned out loud at the way that sent heat twisting through him, tight and sweet, and when Yujin sucked on him, hard, it all came undone in a wild rush of pleasure uncoiling. "Yujin!"

He felt Yujin's fingers tight around him, stroking him through it, and looked up to find Yujin watching him, eyes dark with heat, mouth red, and that wrung him out yet again, until he moaned, breathless. When he finally lay quiet again, undone and panting for breath, Yujin slid back up to wind around him, settling close with a satisfied smile. Jingrui wound slightly shaky arms around him, and laughed. "Have me where you want me?" he asked, husky.

Yujin smirked and snuggled closer. "Pretty much, yes."

After a few quiet minutes of cuddling, Jingrui regathered enough of his thoughts to stroke a hand down Yujin's body, a little shyly. "Let me, now?"

Yujin looked up from his shoulder with a smile that had the same edge of shyness in it. "Yes."

Jingrui gathered him closer and turned them, settling Yujin back against the now-disordered pillows. A little wryly, he added, "Though I'm not sure if I'm ready to try exactly that, just yet."

Yujin settled back with a small, contented sound, and reached up to brush back Jingrui's hair. "Of course not. I don't think I'd have tried it myself, yet, if I hadn't had advice."

Jingrui stopped quite still for a long moment. "...advice?"

Yujin's eyes were sparkling again. "Mm. From the ladies I visit. They thought it was sweet, that I asked."

Jingrui sputtered. "You... you asked... Yujin!"

Yujin laughed at him, reaching up to pull him down and hug him tight. When Jingrui had given up and stopped sputtering, and Yujin had finished laughing, he added, softer, "If it ever happened, I wanted to get it right."

Jingrui gave over and held him close, helplessly tender. "Then thank you." When he lifted his head, he could see Yujin was blushing at that, and cradled him closer, kissing him softly, coaxing. The way Yujin answered him, so open, so willing, made it easy to run his hands down Yujin's body, slow and caressing, glad to have an answer for the hunger in him. When he wrapped his fingers around Yujin's length and stroked him, the shaky edge to Yujin's moan made heat curl through him in response. The knowledge that Yujin wanted this, wanted him, so much, settled warm in his chest, and he worked his hand over Yujin, slow and firm, attending to what made him gasp or arch up against Jingrui.

Yujin liked to be touched firmly. He liked to be kissed while Jingrui rubbed a thumb over the head of his cock. And when Jingrui bit gently at his lower lip, hand tightening on him, Yujin bucked up sharply into his hand, moaning out loud, hands tight on Jingrui's shoulders as he came undone. Jingrui smiled, pleased, and swallowed the sounds he made in a deep, fierce kiss, stroking him until he stilled.

"Oh," Yujin said, softly, eyes a little dazed when he looked up at Jingrui. Now Jingrui understood the satisfaction in Yujin's smile perfectly, and cuddled Yujin close with a contented sound. When Yujin curled into him, relaxed and easy, Jingrui thought he might be perfectly happy to stay this way for always. At some point, no doubt, food and work would get them out of bed again, but for now at least, they could stay here and he could soak in the feeling of Yujin, warm and close in his arms.

Jingrui pressed a kiss to Yujin's now-mussed hair, and smiled.

Contrary to the image he'd cultivated over the years, Yujin was actually quite well-versed in self-control. A seamless social front was not achieved through lax control, and even less by ignoring the unspoken rules of one's environment. Nevertheless, he had to admit that it was extremely tempting to ignore them for just long enough to lean over the writing table that held their latest plans for interior drills, and kiss Jingrui. From the way Jingrui was grinning sidelong at him as they sorted lists of archers to decide who got the fixed position and who got to sortie, Yujin was fairly sure he was aware of the urge, which did nothing to discourage the idea. Rather the reverse, actually.

Just as he was about to abandon the personnel lists and kiss that curve off Jingrui's lips, though, there was a brisk rap on the door frame and Yujin looked up to see Lin Shu standing in it. From the way the corners of his mouth were curling up, he probably knew just what they'd been about to do, also. Yujin sighed; this was what he got for letting his guard down, he supposed. "Lin Shu ge-ge. Hi."

Jingrui promptly blushed and straightened up with a self-conscious look. Yujin shook his head, smiling helplessly. Jingrui was so transparent. It was adorable, when it wasn't alarming him.

Lin Shu chuckled and stepped in, taking the seat Jingrui hastily cleared off. "Good afternoon to you. I'm glad I caught you both here."

"Was there something you needed..." Jingrui hesitated and glanced at Yujin before finishing, more formal than usual, "sir?"

Yujin tried not to let that little bit of thoughtfulness make him smile too foolishly, and settled himself to attend to their cousin.

"Just some clarification, really. We're finally ready to start clearing out the problems among the lower ranks of the armies, and that overlaps your own work in places." Lin Shu gave Yujin a level look. "Did you want to keep working on Wan Fa, yourself?"

Yujin froze, reflex panic flashing cold down his nerves; if they knew about Wan Fa, they knew about Jingrui's involvement...

"Only Jingyan and I know," Lin Shu said quietly. "We have not spoken of it, even to his mother or wife." Just as Yujin was starting to take a full breath again, he added, "Not yet." He sighed and shook his head at Yujin's hand, suddenly clenched around the list he'd been holding. "Yujin, think. Lady Jing, at the very least, will need to know of this when Yuwen Nian marries Prince Ning, if only to guide her against any repeat." A little more gently, he finished, "And you have to know you won't be able to keep Jingrui entirely in the background any longer, now you both have positions in the capital."

"What are you talking about?" Jingrui was frowning. "Yujin has never..." He stopped at Lin Shu's raised hand, but he was still frowning, still puzzling at the words, and Yujin took a long breath, trying not to glare at their cousin for letting on so much. That wouldn't help.

"We're only Commanders. There's no reason for anyone but Vice-Commander Sun or High Commander Meng to take notice of us, is there?" he asked, tightly, more a demand than a question, really.

"For now," Lin Shu agreed, so easily Yujin was already wary when he added, "But the two of you are bright and skilled. You can't imagine you'll go very long without being promoted." He leaned over the table, eyes turning sharp. "Especially when we need exactly that, in our officers."

Yujin bit his lip. He didn't need Lin Shu to draw it out for him, from there. If there was need, then of course Jingrui would be promoted, quite possibly into Sun's position; the Vice-Commander had made no secret of his desire to get back to his retirement once the Jin army was back on its feet. And a Vice-Commander of the Jin army was too high and too close to the Palace to be ignored any longer. The first minister who happened to be nearby the next time Jingrui was irritated over some remnant of corruption that affected his men or their duties would know the kind of vulnerability Jingrui's idealism could provide, likely before Jingrui got to the end of his sentence. And, at that point, Yujin wouldn't be able to stop whoever it might be from using Jingrui as a lever or a tool, from blackmailing him with the threat of reporting disloyalty to the Emperor, from using him as an unknowing conduit to the Crown Prince's ear, from using Jingrui's easy friendship as a counter in the games of court, not unless...

"So," Lin Shu said quietly. "Knowing what is coming, do you wish to keep working on Wan Fa yourself, or shall I deal with this, for now?"

Yujin closed his eyes. Now he knew what Lin Shu was really here to find out. "I'll keep this one," he answered, low. The sooner he got started building his contacts and reputation, the better.

A warm hand covered his wrist, and he opened his eyes to see Jingrui leaning over the table toward him, eyes sharp and rather fierce. "Yujin, what are you talking about?"

Yujin chewed on his lip, looking back. He'd never actually told Jingrui what it was he did. Jingrui had been so angry and upset over the little they'd understood of the fall of Lin and Prince Qi's household that Yujin hadn't thought he'd go along with it, and that had never quite changed. But there was trust and belief looking back at him, now, in Jingrui's level gaze, and he couldn't betray that.

"Yujin," Jingrui said again, softly, hand tightening. "You're about to do something dangerous, aren't you? Tell me. Let me help."

Yujin's mouth quirked. As much as Jingrui didn't usually pay attention to social (or political) nuances, Lin Shu's very presence was surely enough to tell him this was dangerous, yes. "I..." He sighed, leaning both elbows on the table. "Ever since the Chiyan case, I've tried to keep you away from politics."

Jingrui blinked at him for a moment, but then, slowly, nodded. "Because you thought it would be dangerous?"

"Because it was dangerous," Yujin said, flatly. "Idealists die in our court. It's just what happens. I think..." he looked down at his hands. "I think that's why my father withdrew to the temples, as much as he could."

"It was," Lin Shu put in, softly, and Yujin nodded.

"So I listened, at parties and events, for the names of the people who were playing court games, and I tried to keep you from getting involved, sidetrack you however I could. Which didn't get any easier when the Marquis started playing both sides," he added, disgruntled just remembering how much that had complicated his life.

"That was why...?" Jingrui huffed a soft laugh. "Oh, Yujin." He let go of Yujin's wrist and laced their fingers together instead, gently. When Yujin looked up, he was smiling. "Thank you. For taking care."

That gentleness pulled words out of Yujin before he thought to stop them. "Of course I took care. You and my father were all that was left."

The slow widening of Jingrui's eyes made him tense again; had that been too much to admit, too much to ask for (again)? But Jingrui's hand tightened on his, holding him. "Yujin..." Jingrui took a breath and said, steady. "I'm sorry."

Yujin blinked, caught flat-footed by that, and Jingrui smiled a little, ruefully.

"I'm sorry I didn't see. I made life harder for you, didn't I?"

Yujin shook his head. "It was something I chose to do on my own." Jingrui's grip tightened again for a moment, stilling him.

"If we're promoted... it will be harder again, won't it?"

Yujin took a breath and shook his head again, feeling certainty settle in his chest. "No more than usual. Not if I'm in the ministries."

Jingrui took a breath to protest—Yujin knew it was going to be a protest—but then he stopped. Slowly, watching Yujin carefully, he asked instead, "Will you be happy, doing that? I know you're good at it. I know you can. I know you think you need to. But will it make you happy?"

Yujin opened his mouth only to close it again, a little nonplussed at how thoroughly Jingrui had closed down all the answers he'd normally have used to dodge the actual question. Jingrui's smile, a little chiding and a little coaxing, said he knew it, too. "All right, all right," Yujin huffed, but had to smile back. "Yes. I think it will." He waved a hand at his writing table, stacked with more reports than any other Commander in Jin willingly invited, all in the name of knowing what was going on. "It seems to be what I do."

"All right then," Jingrui agreed, softly, and lifted their hands to press a kiss to Yujin's fingers.

Yujin turned very red and shot a quick look at Lin Shu, who was, thankfully, pretending to look at the shelves and not notice. "Jingrui!" he hissed.

Jingrui just laughed, not letting go of his hand, and Yujin gave him a long-suffering look. He didn't pull away, though.

"Well, if that's settled," Lin Shu murmured, looking very entertained, "think about where you'd like to enter, Yujin. Either State Revenue or the Bureau of Discipline would be easy to fit you into, but if you have your eye on another route, tell me."

"Where are you expecting those routes to go?" Yujin asked, a little cautious. He had cause to trust Lin Shu's ability to plot these things, and that he was well disposed toward them, but he also had a lively respect for his cousin's ruthlessness. And however much affection Lin Shu ge-ge had for them, he was the Crown Prince's man, now. Whatever he did would serve Jingyan's ends first of all.

Lin Shu rose, shaking his robes straight, and smiled down at them. "Yan has produced two Chancellors, for this nation. Perhaps it should be three, hm?"

Jingrui's eyes widened, but Yujin smiled, even as he felt his face heat again at that casual vote of confidence. He'd been seen, and seen clearly, and for once he thought he didn't mind it—not when it meant Lin Shu understood how far Yujin would go to keep his own safe, and was willing to support him in that. "If you think so."

"I do."

Yujin ducked his head, honestly flattered by the firm certainty in his cousin's voice, and Lin Shu ge-ge patted his shoulder as he stepped past, toward the door. Yujin sat back as he swept out, and tightened his grip on Jingrui's hand, feeling more settled than he had in a long time.

This was his, and this he would guard.

The year had turned, and all through the city families celebrated whatever fortune had favored them, hoped for more in the new year, gathered to drive out the winter darkness and welcome in the new life of spring.

Jingrui wandered through the soft, colored brightness of the Lantern Festival at Yujin's side, as they'd done so often over the years. This year, though, he found himself suddenly more aware of some things. He'd always teased Yujin about how much attention he tended to attract, during the festival, but this was the first time Jingrui had gotten personally annoyed by the number of matrons and chaperones and matchmakers who found a moment to pause their party by Yujin and Jingrui, and have a few smiling words with the son and only heir of the Yan family. This year, he had to stop himself from 'accidentally' stepping between Yujin and the next party they saw that included a girl out for a promenade at the festival.

No sooner did he notice the urge, though, then he also noticed something else. Yujin looked like he was flirting; he smiled and flattered the older women, and said kind things about the young women, loudly enough to be overheard. But he was also, unmistakably, turning them away. It tugged at Jingrui's attention more and more as the evening drew on, and once he started really watching, he could see that Yujin's body language turned reserved, straightening into a quiet restraint, every time another party approached them. Without a word spoken directly, one mother or matchmaker after another patted Yujin's arm and passed on, sweeping the girls along without a backward glance.

And then Yujin would relax, and lean against his shoulder, and laugh openly again.

The more Jingrui saw, as they wound past the stalls of lanterns and the bright-glowing fronts of the capital's mansions and pavilions, the more he thought back over other festivals or parties or outings he'd seen Yujin at, always smiling and laughing—what else had he been doing, all that time, that Jingrui hadn't noticed?

Not that he really needed to ask, after Lin Shu ge-ge's recent visit. Still, when they fetched up at a grove on the edge of the east district's pond, quieter and a bit darker than the streets if still fairly crowded with strolling groups, he drew Yujin closer and asked softly, "How much of that have you been doing, all this time?"

Yujin's dark eyes looked bottomless in the evening's soft glow. "As much as seemed necessary," he answered, low.

"Necessary," Jingrui repeated, slowly, turning over the things Yujin had said during that startling meeting. "To keep me safe."

Yujin just nodded, as if it were perfectly self-evident, and Jingrui couldn't help laughing, soft and more than a little stunned. "All that... all this time..." Jingrui swallowed hard and reached out, careless of who might be watching, and pulled Yujin close, holding him tight.

"Thank you," he whispered against Yujin's ear.

Yujin made a dismissive sound, but his arms wound tight around Jingrui. Jingrui leaned back far enough to look him in the eye, and closed his hands around Yujin's face, gently, to make sure of it. "Yujin, listen. I'm yours, all right? Whatever happens, whatever it is we do with our lives, I'm yours. Just like you're mine. You have my word." He could feel the tremor that went through Yujin, at that, though the only visible sign of his reaction was a little widening of his eyes, and nodded to himself. He thought he was figuring out how to read Yujin properly again, the way he hadn't, perhaps, since they were much younger. Since before the fall of Lin and Prince Qi.

Thinking that, he listened to the way Yujin's body swayed just a little towards him, and leaned back in to kiss him, slow and sure, in the warm light of the lanterns—kissed him until the quick clench of Yujin's hands in the back of his robes eased, until Yujin's mouth against his softened from the first desperate hunger.

Then, at last, he drew back and rested his forehead against Yujin's, smiling. "So. Go ahead and take over Jingyan ge-ge's government, if it will make you happy, and I'll see to his soldiers. And let me guard your back, as you guard mine."

Yujin smiled back, brighter than all the lanterns in the streets behind them, and answered, softly, "Yes."

"Good." Jingrui stepped back, sliding a hand down to tangle their fingers together, and tugged Yujin back toward the brightly lit streets. As they plunged back into the light, even when Yujin's grip on his hand eased, as if to obey propriety and reserve, and let go, Jingrui only tightened his hold.

He would never let this go, again.

End