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Hidden Leaf, Hidden Talents 45
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 02:25:54 +0000 UTCDanzo stood perfectly still across from the Hokage's desk, hands clasped behind his back. From this angle, he could read the subtle tension in Hiruzen's shoulders—the way his old friend's pipe remained unlit between his fingers, forgotten. The war reports scattered across the desk told the story clearly enough: Konoha was winning, but winning slowly. Too slowly.
"The reinforcements are already in motion," Hiruzen said without looking up. "Additional forces left for the western front at dawn—including Shikaro's tactical unit, as you suggested we needed more strategic coordination out there."
“Good.” Danzo allowed himself the smallest hint of satisfaction. "A tactician of his caliber should accelerate our campaign considerably. What about supplies?"
Hiruzen finally set down his pipe, rubbing his temple. "That's becoming the real problem.”
"Merchant attacks?"
“They’ve increased threefold over the past two weeks. Despite our best efforts to protect the merchants, many of them still feel unsafe and fear for their lives. Several major trading companies are redirecting their routes toward Kumogakure and other, safer territories instead. They’re saying our western corridors are too dangerous for regular commerce.”
The irony wasn't lost on Danzo. Konoha's military success was strangling their own economy. Wars were expensive, and extended campaigns even more so. Every day the conflict dragged on meant more resources diverted from village development, more frustrated merchants, more pressure from the Fire Daimyo.
"We need this war finished quickly before the economic impact becomes irreversible."
"Agreed." Hiruzen leaned back in his chair. "The Senju reinforcements should help, but—"
"There's another problem." Danzo produced a slim folder from his robes. "Fresh intelligence from our border scouts. Iwagakure operatives have been spotted conducting reconnaissance near the western front."
That got Hiruzen's attention.
"Three separate sightings, different patrol teams, consistent descriptions." Danzo placed the folder on the desk but didn't release it immediately. "Their patrol patterns suggest they're mapping our supply routes and troop movements. If Iwa is preparing to intervene..."
He let that hang. A two-front war would be catastrophic, especially with their resources already stretched thin. Hiruzen reached for the folder, and Danzo released it, watching his friend's expression darken as he read.
"This changes everything," Hiruzen said. "We can't have Iwa hitting our flanks while we're fighting Suna."
"Which brings me to my recommendation." Danzo had rehearsed this carefully. "We need more ANBU for counterintelligence operations."
Hiruzen nodded absently, still reading. "I'll authorize three more teams immediately."
"Actually," Danzo said, "I have a better solution."
"Go on.”
"For the past two years, I've been developing a specialized network of operatives. Selected jonin and chunin trained specifically for covert operations—espionage, surveillance, counterintelligence. They operate outside normal command chains to maintain operational security. I call them Root."
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed slightly. "Outside normal command chains?"
"Think of them as shadow ANBU. Smaller, more specialized, deeper cover identities." Danzo moved to the window, looking out at the village. "ANBU are excellent for direct action, but too visible for long-term infiltration. These operatives can embed in enemy territory for months."
The silence stretched. Danzo could feel Hiruzen working through it, weighing implications.
"Why am I only hearing about this now?" There was an edge to the question.
"Because it was experimental. I wanted to verify their effectiveness before bringing it to you."
"How many operatives are we talking about?"
"Forty-three currently active. Small enough to maintain security, large enough to be effective." The number was exactly one-third of Root's actual strength. Never reveal everything—always leave room to maneuver.
Hiruzen stood and walked to his own window. "And you want to use them against the Iwa surveillance network?"
"They're perfectly positioned for it. Less visible than ANBU, more experienced than regular intelligence operatives." Danzo turned from the window. "They could establish monitoring positions, track Iwa movements, and if the opportunity arises, capture and replace enemy agents with our own people."
That was the hook. Replace enemy agents with Root operatives embedded in Iwa's network. Long-term strategic thinking that would appeal to Hiruzen.
"Capture and replace," Hiruzen repeated slowly. "That's ambitious."
"But achievable. These operatives are trained for deep cover. They could feed false intelligence to Iwa while gathering real intelligence for us."
Hiruzen returned to his desk, fingers drumming. Danzo watched him process the proposal, recognizing the signs of a decision forming. Cautious, but not stupid. The strategic value was obvious.
He folded his hands under his chin, staring at the open folder. “So what sets them apart? What makes these operatives different from regular ANBU aside from specialized training?"
Danzo didn’t blink. "They're bound by additional security measures that regular ANBU cannot be subjected to, for obvious ethical reasons."
"What kind of security measures?"
Danzo paused, like he was deciding how much to say. "We've developed a fuinjutsu technique—the Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal. Prevents operatives from revealing organizational information, even under extreme interrogation."
Hiruzen frowned. "You're talking about a seal that would kill them if they tried to speak."
"If they tried to betray the village's secrets, yes. It's a necessary precaution for deep cover work. Regular ANBU can't be subjected to such measures, but volunteers for this program understand the stakes."
"Volunteers."
"Patriots willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for Konoha's security." Danzo moved closer to the desk. "The seal ensures that even if captured, tortured, or turned, they cannot compromise our operations. It's perfect for the kind of long-term infiltration work we need against Iwa."
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Hiruzen stared at the intelligence reports, but Danzo could tell his mind was elsewhere—weighing the moral implications against the strategic necessity.
"How many of these... volunteers... do you currently have?" Hiruzen asked quietly.
"Enough for the mission parameters we're discussing. Each operative represents years of training and conditioning. They're not easily replaced."
"And they submitted to this seal willingly?"
"Of course they did." The lie slipped out easily. "They know conventional security can't handle what we’re up against—what Iwa’s interrogators can do to someone."
Hiruzen finally looked up from the reports. "This goes far beyond standard protocols, Danzo. What you're describing is creating soldiers who can never retire, and never leave service. You're asking me to authorize the use of operatives who are essentially living weapons bound by a death sentence."
"Hmm. You’re being overly dramatic, Hiruzen."
"Am I wrong?"
"No. But neither is it wrong to say that living weapons are what this war needs. You think Iwa gives a damn about our moral?"
"There are lines that shouldn't be crossed."
"I know, but how many of our people died because some spy found out where our troops were moving? How many operations went to hell because our agents couldn't keep their mouths shut under torture?"
The Hokage stared at the ceiling for a long moment. When he looked back down, his expression had hardened. The doubt was gone.
"What would you need?"
"They're already funded through classified research budgets." Another careful half-truth. "Just authorization to proceed and guaranteed operational independence."
"Independence from what?"
"Normal reporting structures. If they're constantly checking in through standard channels, their cover becomes compromised. They need to be able to act autonomously within mission parameters."
The request was bold—essentially asking for permission to operate without oversight. But it was couched in operational necessity, wrapped in legitimate security concerns.
"How long before we see results?"
"Two weeks for initial positioning. A month for full intelligence penetration." Danzo allowed himself a small smile. "If successful, we'll know Iwa's intentions before they do."
Hiruzen was quiet for another long moment, but Danzo could see the decision crystallizing. The war pressure, the economic strain, the threat of a second front—all of it created the perfect environment for accepting extraordinary measures.
"Very well," Hiruzen said finally. "Authorization granted for counterintelligence operations against Iwagakure reconnaissance. But I want regular briefings on their progress."
"Of course, but I can’t have it documented for security reasons. Classified, for your ears only."
“I know.”
……
The makeshift medical station at their base was cramped but weirdly efficient. Shinji watched as two medic-nin took over treatment of the wounded genin from his clone, their hands glowing with chakra as they worked to further stabilize the injuries. The three survivors were conscious now, which was more than he'd hoped for when they’d first found them bleeding out in that alley.
"Easy there," one medic said when a genin tried to sit up. "You're not ready for that yet."
Riku stood off to the side, absently pressing a fresh bandage against the gash on his forearm while keeping watch over the proceedings.
"Any word from Dan?" Riku asked one of the medics.
The medic shook his head without looking up from his patient. "Nothing yet. The raid operation is still ongoing."
Riku's jaw tightened slightly. Whatever Dan's team had walked into, it was taking longer than expected. In their line of work, that usually wasn't good news.
"Alright," Riku said, finally turning away from the wounded. "Teams 7 and 10, you've done enough for one day. Get some food, get some rest." He paused, his gaze settling on Shinji with an expression that was hard to read. Part gratitude, part confusion, and maybe a little bit of something that looked suspiciously like respect.
It was the kind of look you gave someone who'd just pulled off something impossible, except Shinji was supposed to be a genin who shouldn't have been capable of half the things he'd done today. The medical ninjutsu alone would have raised eyebrows, never mind the combat performance.
He held his gaze for a few more seconds, then walked away. Probably to write a very interesting mission report.
"Is anyone else injured?" The second medic finally looked up from his patient, scanning the group.
"We're fine," Shinji said, then added, "but some actual food wouldn't hurt."
Nawaki let out a tired laugh. "God, yes. I think I've had enough of ration bars." The brown-haired genin still looked a little shaken from the day's events, but he was holding it together better than Shinji had expected.
"They taste like cardboard had a baby with disappointment," Tsume added, wrinkling her nose. Kuromaru made a small whining sound that might have been agreement.
Mikoto stretched her arms above her head, working out the tension in her shoulders. "I want a bath more than food. I feel like I'm wearing half the dirt in Fire Country."
"Both," one of Nawaki's teammates said. "Food, then bath, then sleep for about twelve hours."
"Make it twenty," Tsume added.
Shinji took one last look around the medical station. The wounded genin were stable, and the medics clearly had things handled.
"Alright, let's go find something to eat."
Tsume's face fell. "Wait, you're not cooking?"
"After today? Not happening."
"That's just cruel." she groaned. "Do you know how long it's been since I had your cooking? I'm suffering here."
"Heh, you're a shinobi. Suck it up." he shrugged, then stopped as someone approached the camp perimeter.
Tall. Pale. Long black hair that moved like silk.
"Orochimaru-sensei!" Nawaki's face lit up like someone had just told him Christmas came early. He broke away from their group without hesitation, jogging toward the approaching shinobi.
"Nawaki-kun." Orochimaru's mouth curved into something that might have been a smile. "Still as energetic as ever, I see."
"How'd the raid go? You've been gone forever," Nawaki said, falling into step beside him. "Dan-san's team isn't back yet either, and some of the others..."
"The operation was successful. I'm sure the others will return soon."
That's when Shinji noticed the blood. Dark stains on Orochimaru's sleeve, a few drops on his pale skin that hadn't been wiped away yet. Still wet under the lights. No wounds on him, so obviously not his.
"Looks messy," Tsume said, wrinkling her nose.
Orochimaru glanced at her. "War tends to be messy, young Inuzuka. Though I suppose you're learning that firsthand."
"Yeah, we just got back too," Nawaki said, gesturing at their group. "Sweep and clear. Ran into some Kumo-nin who were attacking other teams. Shinji here saved them."
"Ah." Orochimaru looked at Shinji. "Shinji, was it?"
"That’s right. From Team 7."
"Tsunade's new student." A nod. Then, to Nawaki: "Get some rest. We have another mission soon."
"Yes, sensei."
Orochimaru walked away, and Nawaki watched him go with something like hero worship in his eyes.
Tsume urged, "Come on, let's get some food. I'm starving."
The eating area was nothing fancy—just a collection of wooden tables with a cooking station that looked like it had seen better days. The smell of rice and some kind of stew filled the air.
They grabbed bowls and got in line. The cook—some burly guy with arms like tree trunks—slopped food into their bowls without much conversation.
"At least it's hot," Mikoto said, sitting down.
"And it doesn't taste like cardboard," Tsume added, taking a spoonful. "That's already a step up from ration bars."
Shinji sat across from them, noting that Nawaki was still picking at his food.
"So Orochimaru's your sensei?" Shinji asked after a few seconds.
"Yeah." Nawaki's face brightened a bit at the question. "Has been since I graduated. He's... well, he's really something. Scary strong."
"But you don't go on missions with him anymore?" Tsume asked.
Nawaki's face fell slightly. "Not for a while now. His missions tend to be..." He paused, searching for the right words. "Let's just say they're usually too dangerous for genin teams. Especially lately, with him working with Jiraiya-san more often."
"Jiraiya?”
"Yeah, they work together sometimes on high-level missions—at least, that’s what the other chunin said." Nawaki stirred his rice absently. "Dan’s been handling most of our missions while Orochimaru-sensei is off doing... whatever they do."
After finishing their meal, everyone just sat there for a while. Too tired to move.
"Alright, I'm done," one of Nawaki's teammates finally said, getting up with a groan.
"Yeah, me too." Nawaki grabbed his bowl. "Hey, thanks for today. We would've been screwed without you guys."
"Don't worry about it," Shinji said, standing up. "We're all on the same side here."
"See you around," Mikoto added.
"Hopefully on something that doesn't involve so much blood next time," Nawaki said with a grin.
After a few more quick goodbyes, the teams split up. Shinji walked with Mikoto and Tsume toward the sleeping quarters.
"Get some sleep," he told them when they reached the hallway. "Tomorrow's probably going to be just as busy as today."
"Don't have to tell me twice." Tsume was already heading for her door. "I'm so tired I could sleep through anything." She disappeared with Kuromaru, leaving Shinji and Mikoto walking down the dim corridor.
"You should follow your own advice," Mikoto said. "You look dead on your feet."
"Planning on it. Soon as I find whatever they're calling a bed around here."
They stopped at her door.
"Night, Shinji."
"Night."
She went inside, and Shinji found his own room down the hall. Small space with a cot, a table, and one window. Nothing fancy, but it was clean and private. Better than he'd expected.
The day kept replaying in his head. Those chunin, the wounded genin, Riku's weird looks. And somewhere out there, Tsunade was probably still fighting in the Sand Country.
He hoped she was being careful. Though knowing her, careful wasn't really in the vocabulary. The woman punched through mountains for fun.
He didn’t like the thought. It wasn’t panic—just plain, stubborn worry.
And this whole mess with Kumo wasn't going away anytime soon. Today proved that. This wasn't some quick cleanup mission that'd be over in a week.
They were going to be stuck out here for months, weren't they?
The thought made him even more tired. He closed his eyes, trying to push it all away.
Sleep came fast, but it wasn't peaceful. Too many things churning in the back of his mind.
…..
Something poked his cheek. Shinji cracked an eye open to see his clone pointing at the door, where someone was knocking softly.
He blinked, still half-asleep. The room was dark, but light was creeping in around the window curtain.
'What time is it?'
He pushed the clone away and stumbled to the window. When he looked out, he was surprised to see it was still night—but the street was lit up with lanterns, people moving around like it was the middle of the day. The town never really slept, apparently.
More knocking. He walked over and opened the door to find Mikoto standing there, looking way too awake for someone who should have been sleeping.
"Hey," she said quietly. "Sorry. Want to take a walk?"
Shinji rubbed his face, still trying to wake up. She looked... restless, maybe? Like something was bothering her.
"Yeah, okay. Give me a second."
He grabbed his jacket from where he'd dropped it and followed her out into the hallway.
Even at this hour, the building was still wide awake. Muffled conversations bled through paper-thin walls, and I could hear someone's footsteps creaking overhead—probably heading to the bathroom. From the training yard came the steady thwap-thwap of someone working through kata, too wired to sleep.
We slipped through narrow hallways barely wide enough for two people, dodging around maintenance equipment left outside numbered doors. A chunin doing night rounds glanced our way but didn't bother stopping. He looked as tired as we probably should have been.
"Can't sleep either?" he asked, not really waiting for an answer before continuing his patrol.
The back exit spat us out onto a narrow side street, dimly lit and mostly empty. We walked in silence at first, boots scuffing against uneven cobblestones. The buildings on either side leaned like they were eavesdropping, their windows shuttered and dark. A stray cat darted past a stack of crates, vanishing into an alley with barely a sound.
As we kept walking, the silence began to thin. Distant noise crept in—the low murmur of voices, the clatter of something being hauled across stone, the faint clang of a bell. The light changed too. Pale lanterns gave way to warmer glows, strung across doorways and posts, their flickering reflections dancing on the windows.
By the time we reached the main road, the difference was obvious. The quiet gave way all at once to noise, color, and movement. Where the base had been all whispers and muted sounds, this place was alive.
"It’s so lively," she stared wide-eyed at the lanterns.
The street felt alive. Paper lanterns strung between buildings cast everything in warm, shifting light that made shadows dance. A ramen vendor was still ladling broth at this hour, steam rising from his cart while a few late-night customers hunched over their bowls. Kids weaved through the crowd—shouldn't they be in bed?—shrieking with laughter as they played some kind of tag game around the adults' legs.
"This place is something else," I said, raising my voice a bit to be heard over the merchants haggling nearby. "Do these people ever sleep?"
Mikoto was already getting swept up in it, her eyes tracking everything at once. "The other genin at the base said the shopping district stays busy, but I thought they meant during festival season."
She grabbed my arm when a street performer started juggling flaming sticks just a few feet away. "Look at that guy!"
"Careful," I warned, pulling her back as a cart full of pottery nearly clipped us.
We let ourselves get swept along with the crowd, moving down the main drag like leaves in a current. The air was thick with smoke from grilling meat and frying oil, and every few steps I'd catch a hint of sandalwood incense drifting from the little shrine tucked between a noodle shop and what looked like a gambling den.
"Shinji, look at all this," Mikoto said, craning her neck to see over a group of merchants. "There's a guy over there literally eating fire."
I followed her gaze and winced. "That can't be good for his throat."
We passed a bookstall where an old man sat reading by lamplight, books spread around him like he was conducting research at midnight. A street musician had set up near a tea house, plucking at something that sounded like a shamisen while people tossed coins without really stopping to listen.
"Oh, that smells amazing," she said, pulling up short.
An old woman was working a small cart decorated with paper flowers, dropping batter into hot oil. Whatever she was making came out golden and puffy, and she was dusting them with something that sparkled in the lantern light.
"Want one?" I asked.
"Are you kidding? Yes."
I bought us each one—they turned out to be some kind of sweet fritter filled with red bean paste. We squeezed through the crowd until we found a spot by a fountain, watching people stream past in both directions.
"Oh wow, this is perfect," she said around a mouthful. "Sweet but not too sweet.”
"Mm." I was busy trying not to burn my tongue. The thing was still steaming inside.
“Shinji…” She tugged gently at my sleeve. “Thanks for coming. I know you were asleep.”
"It's fine." I glanced over at her. "So, want to tell me what's really bothering you?"
She didn't say anything for a while.
I squinted at her. "You know, normal people don't usually wake someone up just to stand around saying nothing."
"I wasn't trying to wake you up." she crossed her arms, still not looking at me. "I just... wanted to walk around."
"Uh-huh. So you just happened to walk by my door and start knocking like the world was ending?"
"I didn't knock that loud."
"It sounded like you were trying to break it down."
She let out a quiet laugh.
I leaned in a little. “So? What’s really going on?”
She hesitated, then let out a small sigh. “…Nothing specific. Just… everything, I guess.”
"That's specific enough."
She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I just haven't been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, my mind starts spinning through all the things that could go wrong."
"Nightmares?"
"No, not nightmares. Just... restless, I guess. Too much thinking." She turned to watch the fountain. "When do you think we'll be joining Tsunade-sensei?"
The question caught me off guard, though I probably should have seen it coming. "She's on the front lines," I said carefully. "Unless we plan on heading to war ourselves, we won't be seeing her anytime soon."
She went quiet, staring at the water for a long time.
"I keep thinking about my parents. And Tsunade-sensei." She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "Is it bad that I want to be out there with them? Even if it means..."
She didn't finish, but I knew what she meant. Even if it means going to war.
I watched the water ripple where a fish had jumped. The honest answer was complicated. If it was just me going into a war zone, I'd probably be fine. Hell, I might even do well. But with Mikoto and Tsume depending on me? That changed everything. One screw-up, one second where I wasn't fast enough or smart enough, and I could lose them both.
"Hey." I bumped her shoulder with mine. "Your parents are tough as nails. And Tsunade-sensei? She's practically indestructible. They've been kicking ass since before we were even born. Trust me, they're probably more worried about you than you need to be about them."
She glanced at me, and for the first time in hours, she almost smiled. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."
"Course I'm right."
That got me a small smile and a quiet "thanks," but I could see her mind was still elsewhere.
"Come on." I stood up and held out my hand. "Enough of this doom and gloom stuff. Let's go do something fun."
She hesitated for a second before taking my hand. "I guess moping isn't helping anything."
"Exactly. Plus, I'm starving."
“Again?”
We wandered back into the crowd, and honestly, it felt good to just... exist for a while. No missions, no training, no thinking about war. Just the smell of grilled meat and the sound of people laughing.
We grabbed some takoyaki from this guy who did dramatic poses every time he flipped one—which was hilarious because Mikoto tried to clap politely and just made it more awkward. Then we split a taiyaki that was way too hot and burned both our tongues.
"Ow, ow, ow." she was fanning her mouth with her hand.
"I told you to wait," I said, doing the same thing.
"You didn't wait either!"
"Yeah, well, I panic under dessert pressure."
By the time we got to the candied apples, we were both sticky messes. Mikoto somehow managed to get caramel in her hair.
"Seriously?" I couldn't help but laugh. "How do you even—"
"Ugh, don't make fun of me." She was still wrestling with the strand. "It's stuck, okay?"
"Here, let me—" I reached over to help, and she went completely still when my fingers brushed her cheek. "Got it."
"Thanks," she said, quieter now, not quite meeting my eyes.
We found the game section after that. She spotted the goldfish scooping and practically ran over.
"I haven't done this in forever," she said, settling down by the pool where dozens of little goldfish were swimming around.
The vendor—some older guy with laugh lines around his eyes—handed us each one of those flimsy paper scoops. "Just so you know, kids, these things are designed to break. That's the whole point."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I muttered, then turned to Mikoto. "Okay, so the trick is to go slow. Don't get greedy, don't rush, just—"
Rip.
My scoop tore the second it hit the water.
She doubled over laughing. "Oh my god, you didn't even get close to a fish!"
"That was... that was just testing the water." I could feel my face getting hot. "Making sure it was the right temperature."
"For the fish you didn't catch?"
"Shut up." I grabbed another scoop from the vendor, who was trying not to smile. "Watch and learn."
This time I managed to actually get the scoop under a fish before the paper gave out.
"Wow," she said, deadpan. "Such technique. Much skill."
"Your turn, smartass."
I watched her line up her next shot, biting her bottom lip in concentration. She moved the scoop so carefully through the water, like she was performing surgery or something.
And somehow, she actually got one.
"Ha!" She held up the little goldfish in triumph. "See? It's all about technique."
"Show off."
We kept taking turns for a few more minutes—she caught three more goldfish, and I finally got one before calling it quits.
"So what are you gonna call it?" I nodded at the fish she'd decided to keep.
"Koi."
I stared at her. "You're naming a goldfish... Koi."
"What? It's funny."
"That's not how funny works."
"Whatever. I like it."
I was about to argue when this little kid next to us started crying. She'd been trying to catch a fish for the past ten minutes while her mom crouched behind her, making encouraging noises that weren't helping.
Mikoto glanced over, then at her container.
"Hey," she said to the kid. "Want this one?"
The little girl looked up, tears still streaming. "Really?"
"Sure. But you have to promise to take good care of him, okay?"
The kid nodded so hard I thought her head might fall off. "I will! Thank you, onee-chan!"
Her mom shot us a grateful look as they walked away, the kid chattering excitedly about her new pet.
"That was nice of you," I said.
She shrugged. "I wasn't going to keep it anyway."
…..
As the night began to wind down and the crowds started to thin out, we made our way slowly back toward the base. The streets were quieter now, though still far from empty. A few late-night food stalls were beginning to pack up, and some of the smaller shops had already shuttered their windows.
"This was nice," she said. "I feel better."
"Good. That was the point."
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, our footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones. The base came into view ahead of us.
"Shinji?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For tonight, I mean. And for..." She gestured vaguely.
"You don't need to thank me for that."
"I know, but still." She looked over at me. "It helps.”
We stopped at the bottom of the steps leading back up to the base entrance. Neither of us seemed in a hurry to go back inside to the cramped building.
"You know," I said, "if things get really bad out there... if the war situation changes... we'll figure something out."
She nodded.
"But for now," I continued, "what we're doing here matters more than you think. These supply lines, the merchants we're protecting—every shipment that makes it safely to Fire Country means more resources for the frontlines. More medical supplies, more weapons, more food for our people."
I gestured toward the busy street around us. "This place might not look like much, but it's a crucial link in the chain. When your parents and Tsunade-sensei need equipment or reinforcements, a lot of that flows through routes we're helping to secure."
Her expression brightened slightly at this.
"So in a way," I added with a small smile, "we're already helping them. Just not with kunai and jutsu."
"Thanks," she said. "I needed that."
"Anytime."
We climbed the steps together and made our way back through the maze of corridors to our respective rooms. At her door, she paused and turned back to me.
"Get some sleep," she said. "Tomorrow's going to be another long day."
"You too. And if you can't sleep again..."
"I'll know where to find you."
I waited until she'd disappeared inside before heading to my own room. The clone was still there, sitting cross-legged on the bed with its eyes closed.
"How'd it go?" it asked without opening its eyes.
"Good," I kicked off my boots and dropped onto the mattress. "How are things on your end?"
"I've got thirty-five second-gen clones scattered around town. Market, bars, patrol routes, supply depot. Got pretty good coverage."
"Keep creating more. I want eyes everywhere."
That got one eye to crack open. "You sure about this?"
I didn't answer right away.
The clone sat up. "Look, I get it. But this could end badly. Right now it's just cat and mouse—small teams, limited engagement, everyone pretending this isn't really happening. But if you escalate the situation, Kumo might respond in kind."
It paused, letting that sink in.
"They could respond in force. Worst case scenario, we're looking at plunging Konoha into a second active conflict while half our forces are stuck in Sand Country." The clone leaned back against the wall. "Command's not going to be thrilled about that."
The sounds from the night market were getting quieter. People heading home, vendors packing up. I could still smell takoyaki on my clothes.
"I'm not trying to start anything," I said. "This is just... insurance. In case everything goes to hell."
"And if it does?"
"Then I want to know what's coming before it gets here."
The clone studied my face for a moment, then shrugged. "Your call.”
I stared out the window as the last of the festival lights went dark, thinking about goldfish and sticky caramel and the way Mikoto had smiled at that crying kid. Funny how normal moments like that felt so much more important when you were sitting in a foreign land.
Comments
PJ Deaton
Surprised Nawaki was not interested at all in talking to team 7 about Tsunade. You would think he would ask questions about his sister or even mention that she is his sister.
Deathknight134
That was a pretty nice date between the two. 🥺 It was very nice, and something Mikoto needed to calm herself down, I think. 😁 Correction: "too wired to sleep." --> "too tired to sleep."
Middlemoe2
Kinda wish they kissed but ah well. We have both her and Kushina to try and get with him so we need to figure that out, though because Kushina and Mikoto were best friends in canon, I'd like to see that happen with them and they stick together like that when they get together with Shinji(and whoever else is added ;) lol). Another thing that has me curious is when Mikoto gets her Perplexing Peepers awakened? Also if I remember right, Kumo and Iwa join in the war anyway in canon, so Shinji may or may not be setting off that spark early. Tho what the fuck kind of insurance does he need against Kumo??? We'll see I guess though I get the feeling he's trying to be more clever than he is right now
