Now, We Will Begin Ethics

by saka_sho

Summary:

Takayanagi Kyoichiro swears he's not suicidal, he's simply a suicide enthusiast. He can admit, however, that suicide via carbon-monoxide poisoning might have been more pleasant than getting flattened by a 600-pound truck.

Ah, well, he's here anyway, he might as well enjoy the happy retirement life he didn't get to have before.

Unfortunately, he has landed right in the middle of wartime, and there are homicidal ninja coming in for his advice. Just because he was a high school counselor and teacher who knew how to deal with emotionally unstable teenagers doesn't mean he actually enjoys the job, so please go away, thank you.

TLDR; A former assassin-turned-ethics-teacher reincarnates into a world of ninjas and decides to enjoy retirement. However, these trigger-happy ninja won't leave him alone...

Notes:

• Inspired by Honōka by Yujina

Takayanagi Kyoichiro is a Naruto OC I've had in my endless WIP folder for a while now, and after rereading Yujina's Honōka for the umpteenth time, I've decided to post it :)

Update/edit: Also, constantly editing as I go when I find mistakes, cus I don't have a beta

Chapter 1: Prologue

Summary:

Takayanagi Kyoichiro dies.

Notes:

TW: Attempted suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, violence

August, 2022

Takayanagi Kyōichirō was a teacher.

(A teacher he was, a good teacher, he wasn't.)

"Tachibana-san," He calls out, without even turning around. "Thank you for joining us."

When he does turn around, the girl has climbed fully through the window and sat on her chair. Her classmates very carefully do not look at her.

"Aren't we on the fourth floor…?!" Someone whispers, both awed and terrified. He's ignored.

He wonders if Tachibana had made it to nidan in Judo like she said she was aiming to on the weekend.

There was a fine line that teachers were supposed to draw between themselves and their students, one where they did everything they could to help them succeed, but didn't dare dip their toes into the student's personal life.

A good teacher does not involve themselves in student's hobbies, does not delve into their personal lives, and does not give students hugs to comfort them when they are crying.

But Kyōichirō knew that Amai in the third seat of the third row knitted to help her focus in class, knew that Tachibana-san had trouble with her father at home, knew that Michiko in the front row, ever so diligently listening every single day was forced to return home to an alcoholic mother and three siblings.

Kyōichirō had once found Hanyu outside his apartment, shivering from the cold, and sat next to him while he cried. He had kept Uzuha's part-time jobs a secret from the school. He babysat Rihito's baby brother for 2 hours while he went to tutoring.

Takayanagi Kyōichirō was not a good teacher.

(Kyōichirō had been trained to kill, not nurture.)

In a single, swinging arm movement and a flap of his kimono sleeve, the chalk from his hand flies into the back row and explodes into powder when it hits the wall.

The students near him jump in their seats.

Tanaka, sitting in the back row, startles from his nap, before smiling and rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Well, Kyōichirō huffs as he turns his attention back to the blackboard. At least he had ways of making his students pay attention.

"Why do I teach...?" He asks out loud as he picks up a new piece of chalk.

"Cus you love us, sensei!" The class choruses in unison.

Kyōichirō wishes they could show this sort of outstanding cooperation in group activities, but he supposes that's wishing too much.

"Honestly," he spares a glance outside the window of the little ethics classroom. "I'm going to find a beautiful woman to commit double suicide with and be rid of the lot of you."

"There it is!" Someone shouts into a closed fist as if they were a sports commentator. "Taka-chan-sensei's daily suicidal commentary!"

"I'm not suicidal," He corrects. "I'm a suicide enthusiast."

"Whatever you say, sensei…"

 

***

 

"Hey," Kyōichirō leans against the railing of the building. "You're Mori-san, right?"

The girl doesn't respond, back turned towards him as she stares into the cloudy blue sky before her. By his feet sit a pair of well-loved leather school shoes, neatly placedside by side.

He lights the cigarette he's put between his lips. The lighter was one of the many his students had gifted him-- it's a rare once-in-a-blue-moon days that he's remembered to bring one instead of imposing himself on his long-suffering co-workers' smoke breaks. Now that he's thinking about it, he's fairly sure students weren't supposed to fund their teacher's nicotine addiction, but unfortunately for them, he doesn't care enough to say anything about it.

Kyōichirō takes the cigarette from his lips.

"..." He contemplates by her side for a moment before speaking. "... Shall we do a double suicide?"

"What?"

He looks at her, meeting her damp eyes head-on.

"A double suicide," He asks, letting an easy smile rise to his face. "We might as well"

"What are you talking about?" The girl asks. Kyōichirō breathes in from his cigarette again, noting the redness around her eyes and the tears continuously building up in the corners even as she tries desperately to wipe them away. The hems of her sailor uniform sleeves darken as they become increasingly wet. "Gross."

"Ouch," Kyōichirō laughs softly. "But that's not an answer."

"…"

"…"

"… Okay," She says, and Kyōichirō doesn't miss how her voice trembles through her false bravado. She's looking down at the ground, at the empty school courtyard. No one was at the school anymore, and Kyōichirō had been the last one there to finish up paperwork.

Kyōichirō hums and in a single smooth movement, scales over the tall, 7-foot iron railing to stand next to her.

The railing hadn't always been so tall-- but a month after he started working here, they decided to change that.

He wonders why.

He holds out his hand to the student.

She grabs it.

Kyōichirō averts his eyes for just a moment to admire the way the clouds gather and dance overhead, how the grey sky embraces the remaining dredges of sunlight, and smothers the butt of his cigarette on the railing behind him.

"Ready when you are," He prompts.

She doesn't move.

Of course.

Kyōichirō lets her stew in her hesitation, lets her breathing become ragged, and lets her panic become palpable.

Then, when he's satisfied, he finally moves.

Kyoichiro holds up her shaking hand, her hand-print-bruised wrist, her fingers that are still intertwined with his. The difference in the length of their fingers is a jarring reminder of her youth and his age in comparison.

When he opens his mouth, a single, short sentence comes out.

"You don't actually want to die, do you?"

Her entire body is trembling.

"You've convinced yourself that you don't want to live anymore," He says. "But now, faced with a possible end, you're afraid."

"I'm not…!" She lashes out. "I'm not backing out, I…!"

But her limbs are locked together, tears are trailing down her cheeks, and she is obviously terrified.

Kyōichirō sighs.

"You don't want to die," He tells her, and grabbing her by the waist, he flings both their bodies back over to the other side of the fence. "Come on, go on home."

"Aren't you supposed to be the school counselor?!" She exclaims. "I'm going to jump. What's wrong?" She manages a shaky, challenging expression at him. "You're always going on about suicide. Chickening out?"

"I don't do double suicides with people who don't want to die."

Kyōichirō does not allow her the dignity to hide her crumbling composure and does not turn away from the twist of her lips and the smothering of her face into her skirt as she curls into a ball on the dirty concrete floor.

He still doesn't look away even as her muffled, smothered whimpers become heaving, shuddering cries, and he doesn't go to comfort her as even her body wracks with her despair.

There isn't any dignity to be had, in the first place.

This girl had just tried to jump off the roof of her school building.

She had tried to die.

That is the reality of the situation.

Kyōichirō lights another cigarette, leaning against the entrance to the stairs.

There is nothing but the sound of him lighting his cigarette and the girl's sobbing for a long while.

"... I want to become a bride," Her voice is a whisper.

Kyoichiro hums.

"I see."

"Do you think I can still become one?"

"I'm sure that there are a lot of Japanese men more than willing to marry a schoolgirl," Kyoichiro comments dryly.

"Not helping," Mori's voice is muffled by her skirt, but the atmosphere lightens.

Kyoichiro drags a long breath from the cigarette.

"... Who was it?"

Mori buries her face further into her skirt.

"... Boyfriend."

Kyoichiro cracks his neck.

"I see," He replies. "From our school?"

"Course not," She snaps at him. "there are too many crazies at our school for any boy to try anything like that."

That's true.

"Most women don't marry as virgins nowadays anyways," Kyoichiro replies. "Realistically it isn't even something to be concerned about. Be more concerned about your human rights being violated."

Mori looks up from her skirt, face puffy from crying, and wears a baffled expression.

"I know that much!" She exclaims angrily. "But I'm a normal human being who has illogical feelings, unlike you!"

Kyoichiro lets himself smile.

There we go.

"Are you a robot or something?!" She points an accusing finger at him, and her tears are slowly morphing from tears of sadness to tears of anger. "How can you be such a prick and be the school counsellor?! Who hired you?!"

Mori continues to shout him down for a while after that.

Kyoichiro lets her.

"…I'm going to the police box," She says after approximately 5 minutes, heaving and out of breath as the grey sky turns murky, dark blue, and the only specks of sunlight are the pale reflections of light off the clouds. "Will you accompany me, Taka-chan-sensei?"

He looks at her.

"Sure."

 

***

 

Of course, it all goes wrong as they near the police station.

"Grab her!" One of the men, probably a college student screams. "She's trying to report us!"

Kyōichirō's cigarette is crushed between his teeth, but his tone is mild.

"I don't suppose you'll let us go, will you?"

"And let that bitch tattle on us?" The leader spits out. "I don't think so."

Kyōichirō sighs as Mori hides behind him.

It turns into a brawl.

A fist is flying at Kyōichirō's face, and it's by pure muscle memory that he grabs the wrist and kicks the offender's knees in. It's a sickeningly familiar feeling to sink his hands into people's bodies, to have blood splatter on his face.

The next attack comes in the form of a wild grab at his neck, which he maneuvers into a throwdown on his part, and the next man is brutally kicked in the stomach with the heel of Kyōichirō's leather shoe.

Fighting makes his blood pump, and it makes him fall into old ingrained habits he's tried time and time again to abandon.

He narrowly stops himself from digging his thumbs into his next victim's eyes and instead rams the head he's holding into his knee hard enough to hear the tell-tale crack of a nose breaking.

Leaping onto the shoulders of a taller attacker, he stops himself from twisting the head right off the neck and instead forces another guy to attack the bulky man for him, before ramming their skulls together.

Kyoichiro thinks he's protecting Mori fairly well, considering his old age and lack of practice, and bystanders are already calling the police.

And then, of course, the girl is pushed into busy traffic.

Fucking shit, The first signs of a cracking conscience. 

"Mori-san!" He exclaims, reaching for her.

"Oh no you don't!"

Kyōichirō is held into an armbar, and he immediately pulls all the weight forward to throw the man into the concrete, The man screams. He must have broken something. Kyōichirō couldn't care less.

God, that took more effort than it should have. He's getting old.

An outstretched arm, and his adrenaline morphs into mild annoyance.

"Mori-san," He calls. "Get out of the way!"

It's too late, The blinking lights of a truck, and the incoming sound of police sirens, and Kyōichirō pushes the student out of the way.

Searing hot pain, and then darkness.

Chapter 2: Please don't conscript me

Summary:

Kyoichiro reincarnates and meets a young ninja named Minato.
He's very gentle, for a hired killer.
(Kyoichiro was never that gentle when he was in that profession)

"Mori-san…!"

Takayanagi Kyōichirō awakes in a too-small body, with too-small hands, in a too-small room.

His sight is barely functional, but he notices the crowded room filled with rows of cots and children.

'Oh,' He thinks, rather faintly. 'This is an orphanage.'

He falls asleep.

***

He's a baby again.

He's sitting on the floor, a 3-year-old toddler, not nearly old enough yet to have a conscience, and here he is.

Reincarnation.

There's a reason so many things remain unknown, and he does not believe himself a being that understands how the world—how the universe, works. He's never presumed anything, never acted as if he did.

After all, not knowing is a part of being human.

Ah, his dreams of eternal nothingness, crushed to pieces.

Well, Kyōichirō makes himself a fairly independent toddler, all things considered, and he tries to help the matrons where he can—cleaning up the toys left behind by the other children the moment he taught himself to walk, unpacking groceries, and handing out food.

It helps.

The matrons are stressed enough as it is, after all.

'How long is this war going to last?' The matrons whisper, when they think the children are asleep. 'These poor kids...'

Thankfully, the degree of independence he exhibits allows him a wider range of freedom, which Kyōichirō accepts gladly. Being his age, he doesn't think it would be pleasant to be coddled all the time. He's lucky enough that he doesn't remember his infant years.

When he turns 5, he is allowed to wander his surroundings as he pleases. He chooses a name for himself, the one he knew himself as, and the matrons let him.

He learns that this new place is a world unlike the one he used to live in. Despite having televisions, they have no vehicles—and despite having communication devices like radios, they have no firearms.

They have ninja, they live under a military dictatorship regime, but it was far less strict than the ones he knew of.

A strange world, of which Kyōichirō knew nothing of.

The matrons allow him to wander the village, which is extremely safe—especially in wartime when all the defenses are dialed up to the highest level.

Absently, he moves to fiddle with his fingers, only to find smooth, unblemished skin and an absence of scars.

… Right.

A shaky exhale.

His hands instead drop to his pockets, fisting the considerable amount of allowance that the orphanage volunteers gave him.

500 ryo. 5000 yen.

They usually didn't give even the older kids allowance, but the 5-year-old Kyōichirō had been given some. The orphanage fund was barely hanging off enough to allow the children a relatively healthy lifestyle, but the matrons had given him such a large amount.

He huffs.

They must have pulled it together from their personal funds.

What would a 5-year-old even do with 5000 yen?

He made his way down the busy streets, the 500 ryo note safely in his pocket, and took notice of the way people didn't even give him a passing glance when they noticed him.

Perhaps it was normal for children as little as he was to be alone? Was their village that safe, or was it that they were assuming he was an orphan?

Or maybe, it was because it was wartime.

(The boy named Kyōichirō had been made for battle.

He rubs his fingers together, unscarred, unfamiliar.)

It was peaceful and safe in the village, especially under a military dictatorship during a war, but it only proved the skill of the people running it.

Konhagakure was not a bad village. It could be much worse-- wartime stipulations were lenient as it was.

But the tension was still there.

His thought process continues as he walks up to an Okashi-ya.

It doesn't really matter to Kyoichiro, he decides on the spot-- it did work out better for him if people didn't notice him as a strangely mature child—he would hate to be dragged off to the children's militia that they called the Academy against his will.

To be a warrior was the cheapest way to survive in this world, but Kyōichirō had no intention of being one.

Takayanagi Kyōichirō is someone who's had enough of fighting.

He looks up at the sky.

What was something he wasn't able to do in his life?

...

Ah.

Right. His happy retirement life with all of his saved-up money.

Kyōichirō sighs, so deep and long-suffering that it makes passers-by give him worried glances.

(He'd already tried for redemption when he became a teacher, surely he deserved a break)

Speaking of which, the beam above the counter seemed about the right height for a noose for Kyoichiro. The ancient British drop distance table had anyone under 55 kilograms, written at a 25-meter drop height.

"... Can I have one of each?" Kyōichirō asks, struggling to tear his attention away from the splendid beam. "To take away. And one isobe dango and one hanami dango separately."

He wonders how dying by a proper hanging feels. It would be terrible if it wasn't high enough and he just ended up dislocating his shoulders or something.

"Of course!" The man running the dango store grins, all baritone voice and a barrel-chested tone. "I'll even throw in a freebie for you!"

Kyoichiro blinks his thoughts away and turns back to the man, accepting the box gratefully.

He bows, shallow and polite.

"Thank you."

"My, what a polite young man," The old lady sitting nearby coos. "If only my sons could be as nice as you!"

"Mom," The man sitting across from her retaliates, exasperated. "Spare the poor kid your spiel."

Kyōichirō dips his head at them too before turning back to the man over the counter.

"Here's the payment," Kyōichirō says. "I'm sorry I don't have any smaller notes."

"That's fine, lad," The man responds. "Here's your change!"

"Thank you."

Kyōichirō slips his arm through the bag with the takeaway box and holds the paper bag with the separated sweets in his arm.

He could have the separately packed dango for himself. The other sweets could be handed out to the kids at the orphanage.

Kyōichirō leaves the store.

He should drop off the sweets at the orphanage, first. He needed to make a batch of tea to bring with him, anyway.

The path back to the orphanage is fairly easy to remember, near all the other residential areas, and the building was large and decrepit-- cold-looking.

The inside, however, was warm.

Kyōichirō enters through the two big front doors and is quickly enveloped in hugs.

"Kyō!" One of the toddlers babbles. "You're back!"

"It's Kyō!" Another yells. "Kyō's back from his errand!"

The matron rounds the corner as the noise picked up.

"Oh, Kyōichirō," The old woman smiles, old grey hair curling around her face and softening her features. "You're back. Did you have fun?"

Kyōichirō walks over to her, the children dropping off him like flies as he moves.

"Oh dear," One of the other matrons, a middle-aged lady with a soft face, begins. "I'll never know how you manage to pick all of those young ones up, dearie."

"I think it got better with practice," Kyoichiro brushes her speculation off as he shoos the other children away. "Did anything happen while I'm gone?"

"Ah, no, everything was all right."

The matron pets him on the head.

"You worry too much, Kyoichiro."

Kyoichiro nods and pets her shoulder a few times.

"I'm going out again," Kyōichirō responds as he gently grabs the woman's hand and presses the change into it. Her eyesight had been deteriorating badly, these past few months. "This is the leftover money from my trip. I bought some sweets to share, so I'll put some tea on and leave it on the dining table?"

Kyōichirō is pulled into the deceptively frail-looking old woman's arms.

"Oh, Kyōichirō," His hair is stroked as she hugs him. "You're such a good child…!"

Kyōichirō's pets her shoulder again, uncomfortable.

"Come on, Obā-san, I bought your favorite," He guides the old woman to sit down as the kids crowd around the table excitedly. "It's manju from the manju place."

She sobs again before repeating.

"Kyōichirō, you're such a good child…!"

Kyōichirō shrugs her words off before turning to the children.

"Line up!" He calls and the children do so immediately. He does have some authority over them, after all. "Sacchan, here's your daifuku, Toshiro, you said you wanted warabi mochi, right, right? And Himawari likes manju too…"

***

When he's done handing out all the sweets, he makes himself a thermos of iced tea and places a cup over the top of it. The lid of the bottle doubled as one as well, but Kyōichirō wasn't a fan of using it that way.

He leaves a jug of tea in the fridge for everyone else and sets out again with the thermos, his sweets, and two books in his bag.

The weather is just right for a picnic.

After maybe 30 minutes of searching, he finds a nice spot on a hill.

It's on the outskirts of the village, mostly near the shinobi training grounds, and fortunately, uninhabited.

But Kyoichiro is nothing if not paranoid, so he walks a quick circle around his spot to make sure that there really is no one using the area before he rolls out his mat and sets down his things.

He reaches into his kimono for his silver pocket watch.

He doesn't find it.

Kyoichiro's arm falls limp, and he falls backward into his mat.

He'd always thought he didn't have many learned habits, but upon entering this new world, they've become more apparent.

He writes a quick mental note to himself: Get a new pocket watch.

Kyoichiro just lies where he is for a while, not touching his books or picking up his cup of tea. The clouds swim overhead, just like they did when Mori-san was on that rooftop. Today, though, the sky is bright, clear-blue, and full of sunshine.

Kyoichiro lets himself bask in the cool shade of the tree and closes his eyes. The breeze sings a pleasant song in his ears, and each rustle of grass is like a softly spoken poem.

By the time he sits up again, the clouds aren't where they were before, but Kyoichiro pays them no mind and turns to examine his surroundings a little further.

From where he's sitting, he can see the entirety of Training Ground 7 and Training Ground 13.

It makes Kyōichirō wonder what the ordering system is.

So, Kyoichiro pulls out his book.

The History of Konohagakure no Sato.

 

***

 

He's over-three-quarters through the book when it happens.

'--Shinobi ranking system, created by Senju Tobirama was integral in the establishment of order in the shinobi forces--'

Kyōichirō almost jumps out of his skin when an explosion rattles the air around him and rings in his ears.

When had someone come to the training grounds?

There were no footsteps, no clinking of metal weaponry, no nothing.

In a swift movement, he sits back up, running a hand through his wind-frazzled hair and peering over at the source of the explosion.

There's a blonde young man there, looking positively charred and defeated.

At his feet is a strange three-pronged kunai and brown-black burnt dirt.

In short, he looks like a kicked dog.

Kyōichirō's alarm turns into a muted sort of amusement as he watches the young man-- the shinobi, pick himself and his kunai up and try again.

His hair is so yellow, Kyōichirō can't help but think. Back in that world, that hair color would have to be dyed, but he's realized that even the biological makeup of these people is probably different than the people of his past.

A few modifications and attempts in, the young man seems to notice that he's being watched, and his eyes dart up to figure out who.

Kyōichirō wonders what the man had been expecting when he sees that his eyes go wide when he catches sight of Kyōichirō.

Had he been expecting an enemy? A fellow shinobi?

Kyōichirō watches as the young man approaches.

"Hello!" The shinobi greets him cheerfully. "Aren't you a little young to be around these parts?"

Kyōichirō blinks at him, knowing full well that the man couldn't be much older, before shuffling over and patting the spot beside him, gesturing the man to sit down.

The man blinks owlishly before he complies.

The man smells like ash and sweat and dirt, but Kyōichirō doesn't mind.

He fills up the lid-cup of his thermos with the cold peach tea before handing it to the man, pouring himself a mug as well.

The man takes the cup, sniffing it and swirling it discretely. Kyōichirō can't find it in himself to be offended.

"... I suppose," Kyōichirō responds. "But I thought it would be fine since I'm so far from the training grounds."

"I guess so," The man chuckles, putting the lid-cup to his lips. "…!"

The young man downs the entire cup quickly.

Kyōichirō blinks slowly.

"Is it any good?" He asks. "It's my special blend."

The man nods vigorously.

"That's good," Kyōichirō continues. "It comes out different every time, so I can't guarantee the taste," He cocks his head to the side. "What's your name?"

"I'm Namikaze Minato," The man's eyes are gentle like his smile. "What's yours?"

"My name is Takayanagi Kyōichirō," Kyōichirō responds, dipping his head shallowly. "It's nice to meet you."

Namikaze, seeming somewhat flustered, bows back.

Kyōichirō hands him one of his sticks of dango.

"You were training, right?" Kyōichirō asks as the young man takes a bite. "By yourself?"

Namikaze crosses his legs and faces him, swallowing his food politely before responding.

"Yeah," Namikaze rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "I can't do dangerous seal work in locations where there are a lot of people…"

Kyōichirō looks at him consideringly.

"Do you often cause explosions?"

Namikaze tenses, like he's about to protest, before his hackles drop and his head hangs dejectedly. It's as much of an answer as a spoken one.

Whent he man droops like that, it really does make him look like a dog, Kyoichiro notes.

"Fuinjutsu is complicated and powerful," Namikaze replies. "But mastering it in the way that the Uzumaki did is hard."

Kyōichirō chews slowly on his salty isobe dango in thought.

"What about your teammates?"

"My teammates from when I was genin? One of them is studying to become a medic-nin," Namikaze responds, taking a sip of tea. "So he should be at the hospital. But the other one has decided to become a paper ninja."

"Do ninja have non-shinobi employees in administration?"

Minato nods.

"There are, but not many," Namikaze waves his dango stick. "Most civilians can't stomach the gory details."

Kyōichirō continues chewing, but hums to indicate he's listening.

"Are you looking to become a ninja?" Namikaze asks him.

"No," Kyōichirō shakes his head. "My goal is to live a happy retirement life."

"…How old are you, again?"

"5."

"Five…!?" Namikaze almost chokes on his food. "Aren't you a bit too young to be thinking about retirement?"

Kyōichirō looks towards the sky blankly.

"We're all but simple, mortal humans, swept up by the sea we call life, regardless of age," He responds cryptically.

Namikaze's smile is beginning to look strained.

"I… see…"

Kyōichirō begins to pack up his things.

"It's getting late, so I should be returning to the orphanage," He waves goodbye to the blonde man. "I might come again. Bye-bye."

 

***

 

Tea time with Namikaze-san becomes a weekly thing, somehow. Kyōichirō contemplates switching locations for tea time, but Namikaze knows enough to have interesting conversations, so he doesn't.

 

***

 

"Congratulations on making Jōnin, Namikaze-san," Kyōichirō says flatly, but not rudely. Minato has learned that it's simply how the boy talks. "I brought Kohaku manju to celebrate."

"You already heard about that?" Minato sighs. "And don't go spending your hard-earned salary on me."

Kyōichirō blinks at him, long and slow like he usually does. If Minato had to compare him to an animal, he would say the boy was a sloth.

Ah. Kyōichirō never told Minato that he started doing tasks around the village. He must be wondering how Minato knew.

(Minato may or may not have done a small background check on the boy to check if he was someone suspicious.)

He chooses not to ask about it, only handing out a luxurious washi-wrapped pastry to the teenager.

"Here," He says. "The owner wrapped it up really nicely when they found out I was buying it for you."

"Thank you…" Minato rubs the back of his head, sheepish. It felt weird that people around Konoha were so much more aware of him.

Kyōichirō nods and goes back to reading his book.

Minato has since come to terms with the fact that Kyōichirō is never really trying to be rude. It didn't take him long to realize, either, because even 6 months ago, when Minato first met Kyōichirō and he did something similar, Minato detected no malicious intent.

"What are you reading?" Minato asks, taking a bite of his manju. "Something on ninja again?"

"No," Kyōichirō props his head up on his hand as he flips the page with his other. "It's about hanging."

"… Hanging?"

"Mmhm," Kyōichirō hums, legs kicking through the air slowly as he lies on his stomach. Minato wonders how the boy doesn't crinkle his kimono like that. "For people less than 55 kilograms, you need at least 25 or so meters from the ground to give an instant death, but I think it might be more if they were a child like me."

Minato looks up to the sky.

The first of Kyōichirō's suicidal commentary had been alarming, and removing him from his hanging on a tall tree had been even more so, but it's happened so frequently now that Minato has accepted it as one of his eccentric personality traits.

It doesn't mean he doesn't worry, though.

"You aren't planning to actually try, right?" Minato asks, hopefully. "I would be sad if you died."

Sad was a horrible understatement, and Minato winced at his own wording, but he didn't know how else to put it.

"Of course not," Kyōichirō reassures him. "I don't plan on dying any time soon. I'm simply a suicide enthusiast."

Minato almost breathes a sigh of relief until Kyōichirō continues.

"Well, I wouldn't opposed to dying," Kyōichirō muses. "Especially if it's by suicide. If I could choose, though, I'd like to die of carbon monoxide poisoning. I heard it's like falling asleep."

"Please," Minato says to no one in particular. Kyōichirō, he swears, will be the first to give him white hairs.

"There was a question I wanted to ask you, Namikaze-san," Kyōichirō begins anew. "What's the sealed off forest, over there?"

He points to the other side of the training ground.

"I've seen some deer walking around there, is that normal?"

Minato looks where he's pointing.

"Ah, that's the Nara's forest," He tells Kyōichirō. "It's part of their estate, so it's private property. They live closely with deer."

"I see," And Minato sees the spark of interest in Kyōichirō's eye. "Cohabitation..."

Minato remembers who Kyōichirō reminds Minato of, now.

Kyōichirō, when showing interest, minds him of Naras when they're interested in something.

He already knows Kyōichirō is terrifyingly intelligent for his age, enough that Minato often forgets he's talking to a five-year-old.

Minato briefly entertains the thought that Kyōichirō has Nara blood in his veins but then shakes it away. No Nara would ever be stupid enough to have an affair or leave their child without care after they died.

"Are you sure you don't want to join the Academy?" Minato asks. Kyōichirō would truly be a splendid ninja. "I think you'd do great."

"I don't have the right constitution for it," Kyōichirō replies immediately. "I don't want to take lives. I'm grateful Konoha's wartime stipulations don't enforce conscription of orphans into the academy, though I could do without the propaganda they shove in our faces."

Minato doesn't know whether he should point out that Kyōichirō could get in trouble for that phrasing.

Well. Konoha was the quote-unquote 'nice village', after all.

"It's 17 hours," Kyōichirō tells him, after a moment. "I believe we should start to head home."

Minato nods and helps the boy fold up his picnic blanket and sees him off.

'I don't want to take lives', Kyōichirō said, looking at him dead in the eye.

Minato has never felt so exposed under anyone's gaze.

(Something is niggling in his chest. He doesn't know what it is.)

***

"Isn't it bothersome to wear a kimono every day, Kyōichirō-kun?" One of the younger matrons asks him worriedly as he dresses himself. "It might be okay now, but it'll get cold in the winter."

"I'm used to it," Kyōichirō tells her, shamelessly peeling off his sleeping yukata. He was a child, there was nothing for her to look like, and he knew none of the matrons here had those kids of unsavory tastes. "If it gets cold, I can just wear a haori. I can buy things with the money I earned, don't worry."

Kyōichirō had been the type even in his past life. As the world around him further assimilated to modern Western clothing, he often stood out like a beacon while traveling in between classes when he taught. Not many people wore kimono on a daily basis like he did, anymore.

"Well, if you say so," The matron smiles. "Speaking of which, my grandparents left lots of kimono behind, they're still in good condition, if you want them. They're from when they were young."

"Ah, I'd be thankful."

"I'll bring them for you next time, then."

Kyōichirō bows before he straightens out his obi, shifting it around to his back.

"Hey, Kyō," a young voice calls out not a moment later. "Can you help me with something?"

Kyōichirō turns to face the voice.

"The math question you gave me," Yuta begins. "I'm having trouble."

Yūta was one of the younger ones in the orphanage, like Kyōichirō, but incredibly intelligent.

He'd grasped math and science concepts especially easily, and so Kyōichirō has taken it upon himself to nurture that talent, along with some of the other children in the orphanage.

"Which one?" Kyōichirō walks over as he pays out some final creases in his kimono.

"Question 23," He says. "I don't get which part I'm supposed to do first."

As Kyōichirō explains the question, he has a realization.

Hasn't he just backpedaled back into teaching?

... No, there's still hope for his happy retirement life. Even retirees sometimes advise a child or two, right? Right, as long as he isn't being sought for help by multiple people it'll be fine.

Hopefully.

Notes:

Kyōichirō backstory hinties~

Kyōichirō' sname is written as 高柳 (Takayanagi) 凶一郎 (Kyōichirō). The last name is pretty standard, but he has an unusual spelling for his first name. The first character, '凶', means misfortune, calamity, and disaster. '一郎' is the standard name part they tack on for 'first son'.

Chapter 3: Brewing conflict

Summary:

I wrote ~10,000 words cus im winging this thing and here are around 4000 of them :)
(the 10,000 agonising words are the reason it took so long. Sorry!)

War wages on.

Shinobi leave, and shinobi return, battered, tired, caked in dirt. Some return in scrolls, in the hands of their fellow ninja, and others don't return at all.

War, Kyōichirō thinks, is something that takes and takes and takes.

Without the barriers of wartime rules in the Elemental nations like there were in his own world, the war is not only taking the lives of soldiers.

Small towns are burnt to the ground, entire villages are razed, plundered and raped. The blood of civilians seeped into the dirt.

Kyōichirō folds the newspaper back up, feeling much more tired than he was before he started reading.

(He's been getting more restless by the day. Back in his world, where he was able to surround himself with peacetime, he could easily shed his skin of a killer. Here, he could feel his skin prickle with the stress of the atmosphere and paranoia began to return with vengeance.)

"Did you hear?" Someone nearby whispers to their companion. "An entire squad of chūnin was slaughtered out on border patrol. Half of them were medic-nin."

"I did," The companion responds grimly. "The medical scene here is already understaffed. This war is only getting harder to fight."

"We're not the only ones losing people," Another, younger voice protests. "The other side is, too. If we just persevere a little longer, they'll surely back down."

Kyōichirō closes his eyes. God.

Wisely, the two previous people didn't say a word in response, but everyone already knew what the unspoken words were.

Sure, their village could endure, but so could the other village.

This was now an endurance battle. 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, Konohagakure's Academy could keep pumping out all the ninja they wanted, but so could Iwagakure. It was now a matter of who could send children out to die faster and who could make their soldiers last longer.

"Excuse me, mister," He begins. He's sitting at the counter of the izakaya. "Can I have a cold barley tea?"

"Of course."

"What's today's dish?"

"Today's special dish is karaage*."

Kyōichirō hums.

"I'll have that, then. A meal set, please."

"Anything else?"

Kyōichirō looks up at the menu.

"No, thank you."

"Right-o!" The man grins and places his receipt down in front of him. "Here's your receipt!"

"... You didn't charge me for the tea," Kyōichirō says.

"On the house, kiddo."

Kyōichirō dips his head in thanks and takes a sip of water.

"Hey, barkeep," A voice calls, the chair next to him screeching as it's pulled out. "You get your hands on anything nice recently?"

Kyōichirō glances their way.

It's a man, long, pale blonde hair hanging down their back. It's a ninja, Kyōichirō can tell even though they were wearing civilian clothes. There was a clan symbol on his back, as well.

Kyōichirō averts his gaze when he catches the strange crinkling of the man's turtleneck near his waist. He's carrying a weapon, though it's not obvious. It must be kunai or something.

Well, it's none of Kyōichirō's business.

That hair, though, Kyōichirō can't help but think, has to be some sort of liability. Is he not afraid that someone would grab it?

Then again, Kyōichirō reconsiders, some ninja keep senbon in their hair, so maybe it does have its uses?

"We received a shipment of some nice sake from Rice Country yesterday," The barkeeper, a different man from the one who took Kyōichirō's order, replies. "Junmai Ginjo*."

"I'll have some of that, then."

"Certainly."

Kyōichirō places his cup of water down and wipes his hands down again with the warm towel the waitress gave him earlier.

It's gone cold, but that's okay. He just wants to clean his hands after touching the newspaper.

"--have the special dish."

"Meal set?"

"Nah, just as is. I'll see about getting something else later."

"Alright! Here's--"

Kyōichirō picks up an edamame pod from the small dish in front of him and slowly nibbles through it.

Salty. Kyōichirō likes sucking a bit on the skin as he eats them.

"So, what's a little kid like you doing here this late?"

Kyōichirō takes the bean pod away from his mouth and swallows before he looks at the source of the voice.

The man is looking at him, swirling his sake in his cup as he leans his head on his hand.

"I'm having dinner," Kyōichirō tells him politely. "Just like you, mister."

The man blinks at him.

"No kid-- I mean," He seems to be at a loss for words. "Where are your parents?"

Kyōichirō shrugs as his barley tea is placed in front of him. He thanks the waitress.

"I wouldn't know," He tells the man honestly. "I live at the orphanage."

The man furrows his brows.

Ah, Kyōichirō notices. Not all of his hair is long. Only the hair hanging in the front and in his ponytail are long. A weird hairstyle.

"Konoha's orphanage lets kids out by themselves?"

"I don't live at the main orphanage," Kyōichirō corrects. "I'm from the orphanage on the other side of the village."

"Ah, the smaller one that's further away from the civilian sector."

Kyōichirō nods and takes a sip of his tea.

"It's not safe for children at night time," The man chastises. "You're what, 6?"

"Five."

"Five!"

"They don't let the other children out without an adult," Kyōichirō reassures him. "They just trust me to take care of myself."

The blonde looks at him incredulously, before muttering something under his breath.

It sounded suspiciously like 'these kids are getting too well-spoken', but Kyōichirō wouldn't be sure.

"Here's your karaage set meal," A waitress places his meal on the table.

"Thank you."

The waitress smiles and walks away to serve another table.

"Thank you for the food*."

He picks up his chopsticks, leveling them on the tray before he starts to eat.

Eating is a ritual. It's partaking in a luxury, and Kyōichirō is someone who has learnt to appreciate every moment.

The man next to him seems to have sensed that he shouldn't disturb him-- in fact, it's rude to bother someone while they are eating, anyway, and turns to begin a conversation with someone else.

Kyōichirō eats carefully in a content silence, appreciating the hustle and bustle of the business around him.

 

***

Well-fed and satisfied, Kyōichirō sips at the remainder of his tea.

"I'm Yamanaka Inoichi, by the way," The man beside him smiles as he holds his sake. Both of them have finished their food. "I realized I forgot to introduce myself before talking to you, rude of me."

"My name is Takayanagi Kyōichirō," Kyōichirō bows shallowly in response. "It's nice to meet you, Yamanaka-san."

"Inoichi is fine."

What was with the people of this world and their obsession with using their first names? Minato was like this, too. So were the matrons and other kids at the orphanage.

"Inoichi-san, then," Kyōichirō concedes.

"So," Inoichi begins. "What's life in the orphanage like?"

"It's good, I think," Kyōichirō responds. "In comparison to other orphanages. All of our matrons are volunteers, and it's a private orphanage that only has fifty-or-so children."

"Ah, so it's not too crowded?"

Kyōichirō shakes his head.

"The matrons are kind," He says. "They teach the children life skills, and they have enough staff that all the babies have enough attention."

Inoichi blinks.

"Your orphanage is in amazingly good hands."

Kyōichirō nods.

"The head matron started the business in the Nidaime's time," He tells the man. "She was feeding orphans out of her own pocket until the Sandaime started providing funding for orphans."

Inoichi takes a sip out of his sake cup. Kyōichirō thinks he's gone through half the bottle, at this point.

"That's good, then."

Kyōichirō nods, setting the money on the table under his finished cup of barley tea.

"I've got to head home now, Inoichi san," He bows in farewell. "Please have a good night."

Inoichi gets up from his seat, also setting down money.

"Wait, kid," He calls out. "I'll walk you home."

Kyōichirō looks outside the window. It's gone dark. He nods.

"Alright, thank you."

The waitresses thank them as they leave.

 

***

 

As the war effort increased in its fervor, teatimes with Minato dropped from almost weekly to once or twice a month.

Minato had apologized profusely for having to reschedule their plans, but Kyōichirō hopes the boy doesn't feel obligated to sit with a five year old for hours on end all the time. Does he think Kyōichirō has no friends, or something?

... He probably does think Kyōichirō is friendless, doesn't he?

Kyōichirō stews in that revelation for a moment, frowning. Ouch.

Looking up from his book to stare blankly at the wall of the room, Kyōichirō laments his fate. His legs dangle off his chair, his toes not even grazing the wood panel floor.

It was night, and Kyōichirō was watching over the sleep of the infants in their cribs.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Kyōichirō misses being an adult whose feet can stay firmly planted on the ground.

He looks back down at his book, blinking.

"Both my modern ethics class and the history teacher would have a field day with this world," He mutters under his breath.

All and any history here was extremely contested, such as what began the war between the Senju and the Uchiha clans during the Warring Era, which then led to more modern prejudices between and against the two of them.

The lack of clarification on both ends of the spectrum led to the current negativity against the Uchiha clan-- and was likely what spurred their isolationist living style they continue to upkeep while the rest of the clans freely mingle with the rest of the village.

Well, Kyōichirō leans back on the armchair he was sitting on.

He would argue that the Hyuga clan were in similar shape, but rather than conflict, their solitary attitudes are influenced by tradition.

Kyōichirō's main point of interest, however, was the depiction of the relationship between Senju Tobirama and Uchiha Madara.

He pinched his brow.

Why was it that historians warped human relations in their retellings even in another world?

(He could hear Nagasawa-sensei yelling from her classroom in his mind. "Historians claim that they were best of friends!")

Whatever, Kyōichirō sighs as he watches the sun rise from the window. He would go ask Minato about it next time.

 

***

 

Kyōichirō arrives at his spot on the hill in front of the training grounds to find Minato already sitting there.

He looks at the destruction on the training ground in front of his spot, then at his flimsy little leather watch.

What was Minato doing here at 7? The man usually didn't show up until 11.

Carefully, Kyōichirō approaches, rolling out his mat-- a smaller one, today, and his things, and sits down next to the teenager.

"Something happened."

It's a statement, not a question.

Kyōichirō considers. Namikaze, no, Minato (he still isn't used to using first names, ugh) is surprisingly bad at hiding his feelings for a ninja. He pouts when he fails a technique, laughs when he's happy. But today, his blank, steel-like expression doesn't do anything but tell Kyōichirō something's wrong.

"It's nothing," Minato tries, smiling at him. Kyōichirō thinks he needs to work on making his smile not wobbly. Maybe the man's just this vulnerable because he's not on the battlefield. "You don't need to worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't want to think about it."

Kyōichirō wordlessly fills a cup of tea for Minato-- it's hot tea, this time. Chrysanthemum and pu'er.

Lovely. It seems Minato has discovered the wonderful coping mechanism of 'if I don't think about it hard enough, it'll go away'.

He simply places the tea down in front of the man, and sits. He doesn't pick up a book, doesn't scribble in his notebook, doesn't occupy his hands. He simply sits and stares at the sky.

Aah, he wants a smoke.

This might be about the death toll on border patrol that was in the newspaper yesterday. The entirety of the population was in mourning.

One of them must have been Minato's friends.

In the past, before Kyōichirō had changed paths to become a teacher, he had worked alone. He had been too independent to understand the pain of loss, until he left that lifestyle behind.

He lets the boy stew in his feelings for a little longer before he speaks.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he begins.

Minato is silent, unmoving, staring at the skyline in front of him blankly. His eyes are red-rimmed, Kyōichirō notices, and light bounces off the dried tear tracks running down his face.

"Tell me about them," Kyōichirō prompts. He sucks at this. How did he even get his counseling license back then? "What were they like?"

Minato hunches up, pulling his legs to his chest.

Minato's back, which looked much smaller than usual, gave an almost imperceptible tremble, and his face was buried in his knees.

Kyōichirō disregards the muffled sob that is choked out of the boy-- because that's what Minato was. A 15 year old boy.

Kyōichirō sits silently next to him, hand on his shoulder.

It would be one thing if Minato was a person who grieved alone. However, the fact that he sat here, knowing Kyōichirō would come, the fact that he sat here and waited for company meant that he, despite what he said, desired someone else's presence, even if it was the company of a five-year-old.

"You don't have to talk," Kyōichirō tells him. "You can tell me to shut up, too, if that's what you want. But I don't believe hiding your grief is good for you."

Kyōichirō looks into the sky as well.

"You're a strong person, Minato," Kyōichirō continues. "A very strong person. It's because your heart is strong that you can cherish relationships with others, so I think it's okay if you remember people. Grieving is remembering, but healing isn't forgetting."

"From the mouths of babes," Minato manages a wet laugh.

Kyōichirō allows himself a small smile.

"Of course, I'm not telling you to just get over it," Kyōichirō reiterates. "But trying to distract yourself only makes your feelings bounce back harder."

He looks at the almost-destroyed training grounds, and Minato's exhausted figure. All this damage. It was pretty obvious Minato was struggling.

"Remembering people is how you help them live on," Kyōichirō runs his hands down Minato's back gently. "The person they were to you only exists in your memories, so trying to make yourself not think of them is a dishonor to them, isn't it?"

"... You're right." Minato laughs, a sad, wobbly thing choked with tears. "You're right."

Kyōichirō keeps Minato company until the sun sets, letting the boy tell him stories of a burly, kind young medic-nin named Dekai, and Kyōichirō walks with Minato back to Minato's home.

Now, Dekai's memory lives on in Kyōichirō, too.

Kyōichirō smiles at Minato's apartment block before he sets off back home to help set up for dinner.

 

***

Minato didn't come this week again.

Kyōichirō chews on the lemongrass he found nearby.

Well, there were times that Minato simply didn't come because he was busy. In fact, if Kyōichirō looked around he would surely find a letter addressed to him under a rock that explained, in depth, why the teenager wasn't present with around 50 different apologies phrased in different ways.

But Kyōichirō was very comfortable on this particular patch of grass, and didn't particularly want to go searching.

Perhaps that girlfriend he mentioned last time came home from her mission. That would do Minato some good-- spending his grieving period with someone would be better for him.

Kyōichirō looks over at his pile of things.

He did bring his picnic blanket, the largest one he had that could fit five or six of him sprawled out, but he already dreaded the idea of refolding it after he unfolded it.

So, Kyōichirō decides not to use it, until he realizes that the huge stack of books he brought could get dirty, and he sighs before he gets up and starts preparing his lounging space.

It's almost like this morning ritual, at this point, rolling out his admittedly comfortable-despite-being-tedious mat, taking his books out of his basket, taking his cushions out of his bag.

After he flops himself on top of the pillows, staring at the clouds, he decides, begrudgingly, like he does every single time, that taking the effort to manage his space is worth it.

He closes his eyes, takes in the sound of the birds flying overhead, of the grass rustling with the wind, of the sway of the nearby trees, and of the splashing, moving sound of the water.

Right, there had been some sort of river near these parts, hadn't there?

Abandoning his little pile of pillows, Kyōichirō's wooden geta bring him closer to the sound, his sharp ears tracing a path through the forest-- not the Nara one, just right outside the fenced off area, and right to the gurgling, babbling sound of water rushing, weaving through pebbles and crashing against the water bank.

The river is nothing particular-- not some magnificently large water body or a quaint trickle that barely made a stream, but a normal river that could drown little children.

Kyōichirō looks downstream, unable to see where the water led. He was quite a bit further away from the training grounds, now.

Huh. A bigger river than he thought, then.

Slowly, he blinks, flicks off his geta, and lets gravity pull him into the water.

***

Sakumo rubs the back of his neck tiredly, his movements pulling on his haori. Tsume and Gaku had insisted on watching Kakashi for him, but almost immediately after, Minato had knocked at his door, babbled something about a date and a mission and something about being terribly sorry before he shoved a letter at him and told him to bring the letter to 'a child that looks out of place near training ground 7'.

Sakumo had blearily stared at the boy, trying to convey his tiredness by projecting his eyebags at him but the boy had somehow taken that as acceptance, yelling something like 'I'll pay you back for this D-rank!' and running off.

So, alone, Sakumo walks down the road he and Ichika had walked down years before to the training ground, trying desperately to stop the grief from welling up.

(Shinobi don't live long, he knows, but Ichika was only 30.)

(She could have been a 100, but Sakumo would still think she died too soon.)

He tries to focus on the stretch of his black turtleneck, the way his kimono warms him through the thin fabric between it and his skin, and the sway of his haori in the breeze as he walks.

Eventually, he reaches training grounds 7 and 13 (the ordering system was still as offensive to common sense as ever) and looks around.

He smells the scent of… bedsheets? Up the hill, and follows the trail to find a comfortable-looking set-up of pillows, blankets, and books in a spot half-under the tree and half-under the sun.

He furrows his brow. This must have been where the kid was, earlier-- he could smell the scent of jasmine and tea leaves here, but he couldn't see the child.

Sakumo focuses his senses, with a little effort this time, and follows a trail leading him to the other side of the training ground.

Weird. What would a little child have to do to wander over there?

Sakumo tracks the scent, and the closed of Nara estate forest grows closer and closer.

… He hopes the child didn't wander into the Nara forest. He heard the deer there eat humans.

Luckily, as he follows the trail further, it turns out that the kid had taken a sharp turn and wandered left into the un-owned forest.

He steps in.

Sakumo, now surrounded by the smell of dirt and grass, has to focus his senses even further, and reaches a river.

Huh. Had there always been a river down here? He hadn't been here in a while.

He's about to follow the smell further upstream, but he spots something approaching from that direction.

A dark-colored, small human thing. Floating gently down the river.

Face down.

He flares his chakra in hopes that he's seeing a genjutsu.

… Nope, real human being.

His curiosity and exhaustion quickly turn into alarm as he steps on top of the water and yanks the child out but the scruff of their kimono, frantically laying them on the river bank.

He places his hand over the kid's face. Nothing. No breathing.

Oh sage, is this kid dead?

"Oi, kid?!" He calls. "Hey, can you hear me?"

He's about to try making the kid cough up all the water when the child-he-almost-thought-was-a-corpse shoots their eyes open.

(No, Sakumo does not jump. He doesn't.)

Slowly, the kid sits up-- long lashes and thick black hair damp with water.

Sakumo stares. He can't tell if it's a girl or a boy. They look like a doll--one of those fine western ones that Ichika had loved looking at when a merchant carrying them came through Konoha.

"…"

The child makes eye-contact with him, and Sakumo freezes.
He'd seen eyes like those before. Not in the sense of their dark, dewy beauty, but that… lifelessness.

The child tilts his head at him, and Sakumo feels like they're tearing right through him. He feels vulnerable. Was this really a child?

He almost flares his chakra to check for a genjutsu again.

"Were you the one who interrupted by submersion?" The boy asks.

Sakumo stares.

"… Submersion?"

"Ah," The child-- the boy, Sakumo is assuming. "No, submersion* is the wrong word, I wasn't trying to kill myself. Hmm…"

Sakumo stares, dumbfounded.

The child, at some point, seems to give up on rephrasing, and looks him dead in the eye as he continues.

"I was just a bit curious," The kid settles on. "I wanted to see what a suicide by drowning would feel like."

Sakumo freezes.

"Right," The child smacks his fist on their hand as he comes to a conclusion. "Like sleeping as a free trial of death!"

Slowly, Sakumo tilts his head to look up at the sky.

Minato, what kind of child have you befriended? This was not what he meant when he told the boy to make friends…!

He watches as the child gets up, trying his best to pat the mud off his kimono before he turns to face him again.

"My name is Takayanagi Kyōichirō," The child-- the boy, Kyōichirō is a masculine name, tells him, face neutral as it was when he woke up. "What's your name, mister?"

"… Hatake Sakumo."

"Okay, Hatake-san," The boy cocks his head at him. "Do you want to have some tea with me?"

"Huh?"

"I've got to get my sandals back, but I brought tea with me to the hill. Want to have some with me?"

"Uh--"

"Okay," The boy nods at him even though Sakumo didn't reply. And verbally bulldozes over him. "I left my sandals about 50 meters upstream. Maybe."

The boy walks off without a word, giving Sakumo whiplash and leaving no choice but to follow.

"Hey, Takayanagi-kun," Sakumo calls out. "Are you sure you don't want to go home first? You might catch a cold."

"It's okay, I can't get sick."

The use of can't, rather than don't. Hm.

They manage to find the boy's geta-- seriously, what kind of child wears geta as opposed to the much-favored shinobi sandals, nowadays, and they return to the picnic mat set-up on top of the hill at the training ground.

Takayanagi had mostly dried off at this point, and had started rifling through the contents of the bag and pulled out a metal canister of tea.

Sakumo finds himself relaxing into the pillows, shoulders slumping for the first time in a long, long time.

Oh dear, he was going to get attached now, wasn’t he?

Well, he thinks, as he sips on the lovely tea that was handed to him. It can’t possibly be that bad.

Notes:

*Junmai Ginjo: A fruity, aromatic sake that's lighter in body and made with rice that's polished to at least 40%.
*I wrote 'thank you for the food', here, but I meant いただきます： I'm sure you recognize this one, it's just 'itadakimasu'-- does anyone know of a like flowy way to translate that? It directly means 'I will partake' but that sounds clunky.
* Submersion: The word Kyoichiro would have used is '入水', meaning suicide by drowning

Chapter 4: Oh no, children

Summary:

Kyoichiro, who NOT a teacher anymore, is saddled with yet another kid. Yay.

It's a pretty cute, smart kid, though...

Notes:

Hello, hi, have a chapter.

Kyōichirō had told the man to sit down and have tea to be polite, but the man had somehow taken it as an invitation to come every week. 

He sighs long-sufferingly. He'd barely escaped the clutches of Minato's energetic personality catching him once a week, changing it to twice a month, but Sakumo had taken it upon himself to fill in the gaps. 

No, Kyōichirō corrects. He was overfilling the gaps. Kyōichirō's alone time was supposed to be an empty pot. Now it was a pot that was this close to overflowing. 

The man was taking too much advantage over the fact that Kyōichirō thinking he was interesting. 

"Hey, Kyōichirō-kun!" 

Kyoichiro smiles politely, scowling on the inside. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

Kyōichirō looks over and blinks in surprise. 

"... What is that in your arms, Sakumo-san?" 

"This is my son, Kakashi!" Sakumo smiles, all too parent-like for Kyōichirō's taste. He's having flashbacks of parent-teacher interviews. "I heard from the matron at the orphanage that you're good with kids, so I was wondering if you could take Kakashi for the day!" 

Et tu, obaa-san? 

"... You don't have anyone else to look after him?" 

"I want him to breathe some fresh air!" 

"Why don't you hire a genin team?" Kyōichirō asks, a little desperate. "Sakumo-san, I want to remind you that I'm five ." 

Sakumo just laughs. Kyōichirō doesn't like to swear, so he bites his tongue. 

"I trust you!" 

"You trust the strange little child on the training ground that could be poisoning your tea every week with arsenic?" 

"I'd be able to tell if you were poisoning my tea, Kyo-kun," Sakumo taps his nose, handing over the baby by the scruff of his little baby shirt. "Thanks! I'll be sure to pay you! See you tonight!" 

Kyōichirō finds himself with an armful of baby before he knows it. 

A mission that only takes a day. Must be a courier mission or an assassination mission close to home base. Kyōichirō is inclined to think of the latter. He can tell, these things. 

Kyōichirō looks down at little Kakashi in his arms. 

"Hello, Kakashi-kun," Kyōichirō greets. "I'm Kyōichirō." 

"Ubub...?" 

Kyōichirō puts Kakashi down on the mat, letting the baby sit up. 

He points to himself. 

"Kyōichirō." 

Kakashi's eyes light up, and he makes a sound with his little toothless mouth. Huh. He's not very giggly for a baby. 

"Kyoichiwo." 

Kyōichirō blinks. 

He picked that up quickly. 

Kakashi blinks at him, and stands himself up, wobbling. Kyōichirō doesn't move to stop him, only steadying his hands nearby to catch him if he falls. 

"Are you trying to walk?" He asks. 

"Walk." 

Kyōichirō blinks again, then nods, backing a single step away. He trusts his reflexes to catch the baby if something bad happens. 

Some of the teachers he knew would have an aneurysm if they saw how he taught. 

He pushes them towards risks, lets them tumble, and then helps them back up. Of course, Kyōichirō smiles as Kakashi takes one, two, three wobbly steps toward the small patch of flowers on the grass, you could argue that there is no need for a child to take any risks at all. 

But, Kyōichirō will ask, where's the fun in that? 

He doesn't catch Kakashi when the baby inevitably trips over his own feet and lands face-first in the grass. 

In order to learn, you have to experience. 

Little Kakashi hiccups, and Kyōichirō doesn't move a muscle. 

You have to fail . 

Slowly, the baby pushes himself back up, looks at Kyōichirō, and keeps walking. 

And then, you pick yourself back up and keep going. 

That's how Kyōichirō spent the rest of his afternoon, watching little Kakashi try and fail to walk more than ten steps at a time, catching him when he tried to walk too close to the edge of the hill until little Kakashi got tired and fell asleep in Kyōichirō's lap. 

Kyōichirō runs his fingers through little Kakashi's sparse silver hair and for the first time in a long, long time, falls asleep in the presence of another. 

  

*** 

  

"You're good with kids, huh?"  

" … I tolerate them."  

A snort, an amused spark in deep brown eyes.  

"Keep telling yourself that."  

  

*** 

  

When Kyōichirō blinks his eyes awake, the sun is high in the sky, bouncing off viridescent green grass and filtering through the leaves of the tree above him, painting patterns all over his and Kakashi's faces. 

He sits up, feeling incredibly heavy. 

His muscles are wound, his skin pricks with anxiety, and he feels like a rubber band, pulled taut and ready to snap at any moment. 

Kyōichirō breathes out deeply, forcing himself to stare at the endless forest in the distance rather than the human being next to him. 

In. Out. In. Out. 

He can't look at Kakashi right now. 

In. Out. In. Out. 

Slowly, he stands up, and walks forwards. 

One step. Two steps. Three steps. 

He's reached the end of the empty training ground. 

Four steps/ Five steps. Six steps. Seven steps. 

He reaches a wooden training post. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

He couldn't walk too far out, the child has to still be reachable if something happens. 

He walks a circle around the huge patch of dirt, letting the grass by the edges brush his socks. He doesn't know how many circles he walks how many times he breathes in, breathes out, how many times he stares into the distance and just doesn't think . 

He reaches the wooden training post again. 

Kyōichirō makes a U-turn back to the spot on the hill, under the huge maple tree. 

"… It's lunchtime, isn't it?" He lowers down and picks the little human up, wiping away the drool with the collar of the baby's shirt, gently stirring him awake. "Let's go get some lunch for us to eat, yeah?" 

"Abu…?" 

Kyōichirō rocks him gently as he cleans up a little bit around the picnic mat and leaves the hill. 

"What do you feel like eating?" He asks the baby, but the question is mostly directed at himself. "You're old enough to eat solid food, so let's get you something soft, hm?" 

He hums when Kakashi presses his chubby little cheek into his collarbone, letting the baby feel the vibration of his voice in his chest. He knew the babies at the orphanage liked it, so it should work on Kakashi, too." 

"Heya, Kyōichirō-kun!" One of the stall vendors calls out to him as he walks down the street. "Babysitting one of the orphans today?" 

Kyōichirō nods politely at the man. 

"Ah, no, I'm helping someone else look after their kid today." 

"'Sat so?" The man grins. "I just wanted to tell you I got a new shipment of those tea leaves you wanted yesterday and kept one in the back for you, so come collect it soon, alright?" 

Kyōichirō bows. 

"Thank you very much." 

"Stop bein' all formal like that!" The man laughs. "Go on your way then." 

Kyōichirō manages another nod before he continues his beeline to the izakaya where he has slowly been becoming a regular. Of course, like all his other errands in town, he is stopped multiple times on the way. 

"Oh, Kyōichirō-kun!" Michiko-baa-san from the okashi-ya shoves a paper bag into his hands. "Thanks for helping me transport the rice flour the other day. Just for you, okay?" 

Kyōichirō doesn't even get the chance to shove it back at her before she skedaddles. He sighs. Honestly, with all the free things these vendors give him, he's worried they're going to go bankrupt. 

"Ah, Kyōichirō-kun, perfect timing." 

"Uchiha-san," Kyōichirō nods at her, hoisting the baby further up his waist as the boy starts sliding down. The paper bag from Michiko-baa-san hangs off his elbow. "Can I help you?" 

The woman, Uchiha Retsuko, smiles at him and hands him a letter. 

"Could you deliver this letter to Hizashi for me?" 

To Hyuuga-san again. 

Uchiha-san had asked him to deliver a letter to him once before, and had gotten him to deliver her letters directly to Hyuuga-san in the Hyuuga compound instead of leaving her letters in the mailbox ever since Kyōichirō had been hired by her cousin, Uchiha Kiki to run errands for her. 

Maybe Uchiha-san felt uncomfortable leaving the letters in the Hyuuga mailbox due to the friction between the two clans. 

Kyōichirō blinks at the woman, then receives the letter and puts it in his kimono. After making sure it was secure, he turned back to the woman. 

"I have a response for you from Hyuuga-san, actually," Kyōichirō tells her, digging his hand into his sleeve. "I was going to bring it to you at the Uchiha compound today, but since I've bumped into you here…” 

The man had written her a letter in return and practically hunted Kyōichirō down at the orphanage the night before to get him to deliver it. 

He hands her the letter, along with the pressed flower bookmark taped to it. 

Baby's breath, meaning purity, sincerity in emotions, and undying devotion. 

It was quite obvious what was going on. 

Clearly catching the meaning behind the bookmark as soon as she set her eyes on it, Uchiha-san's frostily beautiful face warmed, a smile unfurling like a bloom of morning glory in the first rays of sunlight. 

He's careful not to pry. 

"Thank you, Kyōichirō," She says, and it's so very sincere. "Here, please take this as a token of my gratitude." 

She places a 1000 ryo into his hands. 

Kyōichirō's eyes go wide. 

"This is too much," He tells her. "I only delivered a single letter." 

"Keep it," She closes his hand around the notes sternly. "I'll be counting on you in the future, too." 

Her warm smile holds even as she turns and walks away, leaving a dumbfounded Kyōichirō in her wake. 

Slowly, as Kakashi starts to fuss, Kyōichirō stows away the 10,000 yen into his kimono and heads into the izakaya, meeting no more interruptions. 

He sits himself and Kakashi in the corner of the restaurant, depositing Kakashi on the plush seat against eh wall as he takes a seat across. 

The waitress, long accustomed to seeing him coming in alone, comes up to them as Kyoichir wipes both his and the baby's hands with the warm cloths. 

"What can I get for you today, Kyōichirō-kun?" 

"I'll have a yudofu, leave the sauce on the side, please, Kakashi-kun can't have that much salt, yet." 

"Our starter for today is chawanmushi," The waitress begins. "It's the plain kind, so babies can eat it. Shall I get you started with that?" 

"Please," Kyōichirō nods. "Thank you." 

The waitress smiles and places a small plate of sliced cucumbers in front of them. 

"Please have some pickled cucumbers while you wait, your food will be ready soon." 

Kyōichirō dips his head again as the waitress walks away. 

Gently picking up the lightly pickled cucumber with his now clean fingers, he hands a slice to baby Kakashi, who gleefully starts nibbling on it. 

After making sure Kakashi wasn't choking on the food, Kyōichirō picks up a slice for himself to chew on while they wait for their food. 

The cucumber is refreshingly cold and slightly salty-sour from the pickle brine. 

"--heard that Sandaime is planning on retiring after the war." 

Kyōichirō doesn't turn towards the voice, but listens carefully even as he hands Kakashi another piece of cucumber. 

This was one of the reasons why he frequented this izakaya so often. This was a place that was visited by ninja. That meant information that wasn't in civilian circles was up for grabs. 

Even though Kyōichirō had no interest in participating in the political scene of any world, it didn't stop him from finding it incredibly interesting. 

 Kyōichirō had been an ethics teacher, after all. 

"Who do you think's going to have the seat next?" 

"Probably one of his students, right?" 

"Hah!" One voice laughs. "You mean the Sannin? I hope not." 

The first voice sighs. 

"Jiraiya-sama might be strong, but he's a pervert who runs around peeping into the women's side of bathhouses, drags out his missions, and is outside the village more often than he's in it!" 

His companions laugh. 

"And Tsunade-sama is a drunkard and a gambling addict!" One of them chimes in. "She got a new epithet recently--" 

"The Legendary Sucker!" 

They all break into hysterical laughter. 

"I think every jōnin has won a bet against her by now!" 

"Hmm," One of them cut in. "I can't actually think of anything particularly bad to say about Orochimaru-sama, though." 

"Eh~ but he's creepy ." 

"He's like Jiraiya-sama, I've never seen him in town at all." 

By the time the food arrives, the pickles are already through, and Kyōichirō patiently feeds Kakashi spoonful after spoonful of soft egg and tofu. 

"Orochimaru-sama spends all his time in his lab on the outskirts of the village," One of them says. "My cousin works there as a secretary-- he says he's never been inside the lab itself! He doesn't let anyone in.” 

"It makes you wonder what kind of shady stuff he's doing in there…" 

"Shady things, hm?" 

Kyōichirō's attention spikes. It's a new voice. Smooth, like silk, with an almost… playful lilt to the end of its words. If Kyōichirō had to say, he was like a sly predator playing with its food before mercilessly swallowing it whole. 

His movement doesn't falter, even when all sorts of alarm bells start ringing in his head. 

"Pray tell," The voice begins, and there's the sound-- not quite a screech, but grating enough to set hairs on end-- of a chair being pulled out by the counter. "What kind of shady things do you think are happening in the lab?" 

"O-Orochimaru-sama!" One of the shinobi yell. 

"Nothing!" Another exclaims, fear dripping from every word. "Nothing at all!" 

"Y-you know what, guys? I think we have a mission waiting for us at the office!" 

"Right, uhm, we should go!" 

Kyōichirō catches the shinobi speed out in his peripheral vision. 

He chances a glance backward, a casual, quick look. 

Standing by the counter in this almost-empty izakaya-- these places aren't popular in the afternoon-- was a tall, willowy figure, thick, pin-straight black hair falling down their back, and a pale side profile made of smooth, curving lines, golden eyes like amber, and lavender-purple markings in the inner corner of their eye. 

Orochimaru was beautiful in such a way that it looked somewhat… off , like he didn't fit into the background, standing out like a beacon. 

Outwardly, the man didn't seem affected by the shinobi's comments, but Kyōichirō recognized that sort of careful blankness that he wore on his face. Their careless gossip had touched him, despite the wall Kyōichirō could tell he built around himself. 

Kyōichirō turns back to the food after a period of time that was just short of staring, and feeds little Kakashi another small spoonful of tofu. 

He hears Orochimaru head towards the back of the restaurant, and watches as he sits at the opposite end of the long, cushioned bench lining the wall that Kakashi was sitting on. 

As a waitress goes over to take his order with shaking hands and a strained friendly demeanor, Kyōichirō calls another waitress over. 

"Do you have anything sweet on your menu?" 

"Of course," The waitress tells him. "We have yōkan made in-house, mochi, and manju, if you prefer." 

"I'll have a manju and a plate of yōkan, thank you," Kyōichirō replies. "Can I also have a pot of tea?" 

"Of course! Anything else?" 

Kyōichirō considers. 

"… When that gentleman is finished with his meal," Kyōichirō begins, lowering his voice. "Could you get him a yōkan and a pot of tea on my bill, please?" 

The waitress blinks in surprise before she nods, and leaves to prepare the desserts after cleaning up their table. 

He turns back towards Kakashi, who's slowly nodding off again. 

"Oh, Kakashi-kun," He walks over to pick up the boy, gently bopping as he rests his head on his shoulder. "You must have gotten sleepy after eating." 

He rocks the baby, but he refuses to go to sleep, so he sighs, and sits back down, letting Kakashi sit on his lap. 

"Kyoichiwo," Kakashi babbles. "Wike." 

… Moon*? 

Oh. 

Kyōichirō's eyes widen fractionally before he replies. 

"Kyōichirō hasn’t decided if he likes Kakashi yet." 

Kakashi smiles and rubs his face into Kyōichirō's hand. 

Kyōichirō lets him, smiling exasperatedly. 

Oh dear. First Yūta, and now Kakashi. All these little children were growing on him like weeds. 

"Here are your deserts," The waitress smiles and pours him a cup of tea. Before she sets the pot on the table. "We've added your request to your bill as well." 

"Thank you." 

Kyōichirō neatly breaks off a piece of yōkan with the little wooden fork and picks it up with his fingers. He didn't want to feed Kakashi with the wooden fork, because Kakashi might move unexpectedly and accidentally stab himself with it while Kyōichirō was feeding him. 

"Here, Kakashi-kun," He places it in front of the baby's mouth. "Have some of this, hm?" 

Kakashi sleepily opens his mouth and eats it. 

Kyōichirō manages to polish off the desserts relatively quickly and washes them down with tea, the sugar helping him clear his head from the drowsiness of his afternoon nap. 

He glances over to the table across from them, and sees the waitress placing the items on the table. 

He smiles. 

Time for him to leave. 

He gets up, hoisting Kakashi up onto his waist again, and leaves quickly, ignoring the star that was digging into his back. 

He places the bill and the money on the counter as he exits the building before the man can think to call out to him. He didn't seem like the type to raise his voice, after all. 

He hopes Orochimaru-sama enjoys the yōkan and the tea. 

  

*** 

  

Kyōichirō finds the location of the Hatake compound by asking around on the street, and a nice older man named Inuzuka Gaku happily brings him straight to the location after seeing Kakashi. 

Kyōichirō lets the man pick the baby up after confirming that the man was, in fact, not a kidnapper trying to take Kakashi, and that no, he was not lying about knowing Sakumo. 

"We and the Hatake are sister clans," Gaku (not "Inuzuka-san", the man had insisted) explains to him as he rubs soothing circles on Kakashi's back. "We look after Kakashi sometimes when Sakumo's out on missions. Both me and my sister were out today, though, so I guess that's why he came to you." 

Kyōichirō adjusts his bag that's carrying all of the items that he just packed up from the training grounds. 

"I see," He responds. "I was wondering why he ambushed me this morning out of nowhere." 

Gaku laughs as if he finds Kyōichirō's suffering especially funny. 

Kyōichirō takes Kakashi back when they reach the gates of the compound. 

"Thank you for bringing me here, Gaku-sa--" 

"Gaku -nii, " Gaku interjects. 

"… Gaku- nii-san," Kyōichirō relents. "Thank you for bringing me here. I'll wait until Sakumo-san comes back." 

"Feel free to bring him to the Inuzuka compound if he doesn't make it back by the end of today, missions can get dragged out sometimes," Gaku tells him. "You remember where it is, right? We passed by it on our way here." 

"Yes." 

"Alright then!" Gaku gives both him and Kakashi aggressive head rubs. "See you around!" 

Gaku takes off, and Kyōichirō sits down on the doorstep with Kakashi in his arms, wrapping the blanket he brought around them. 

It was starting to cool down, and he couldn't let Kakashi catch a cold. 

He pulls out a book and quietly reads over Kakashi's shoulder. 

Maybe an hour later, as the sun begins to set on the horizon, he hears the thud-thud-thud of incoming footsteps and finds Sakumo standing there, looking a little tired, but quite happy. 

"Sorry for the wait, Kyōichirō-kun," He smiles. "Mission took a little longer than expected." 

"It's okay," Kyōichirō cocks his head to the side. "… Maybe you should change first." 

He wraps the blanket tighter around Kakashi, who is waking up, blinking blearily. 

"Oh, right." 

The front of Sakumo's green flak jacket was drenched dark--blood--Kyōichirō can tell. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't let you see me like this," Sakumo hurriedly unlocks the door. "Come in." 

"Sorry for intruding." 

Kyōichirō carefully takes off his shoes as he enters. He wonders if he needs to wake Kakashi for dinner. 

Sakumo quickly re-emerges from the corridor in a clean jinbei, and gestures towards the couch. 

"Sit down, I'll put some tea on." 

"Thank you." 

Sakumo comes back into the living room as Kyōichirō hears the sound of the stove rumbling. 

"You should stay for the night, Kyōichirō," He says. "It's a bit late. I'll send notice to your orphanage, don't worry." 

"I wouldn’t want to intrude--" 

"Don't worry about it." 

Sakumo returns to the kitchen, and Kyōichirō hears the whistle of the pot, rustling and the clinking of porcelain cups, before Sakumo returns with a tray and sets it on the coffee table. 

"Sorry I don't have much to serve," Sakumo places a cup and a plate of senbei in front of him. "I haven't gone out for groceries in a while." 

"Please don't worry," Kyōichirō reassures him, picking up a cracker. "Thank you for your hospitality." 

He breaks off a little piece and lets Kakashi chew on it. 

"Thanks for looking after Kakashi today," Sakumo bows at him. "Here's your payment." 

Kyōichirō pauses. A man of Sakumo's standing shouldn't be bowing to him, and… 

He eyes the envelope being handed to him in suspicion before he hands Kakashi over and accepts it. 

It's bad manners to open up money envelopes in front of the person, and that's what he thinks Sakumo is counting on. 

Too bad Kyōichirō is a rude child. 

"This is too much." 

"Just take it." 

"No, I--" 

Sakumo covers his ears childishly and shakes his head. 

"Nu-uh, I'm not hearing any of it!" 

"Sakumo-san…!" 

"Uh-uh!" 

Kakashi giggles at the commotion. Of course he does. 

Eventually, Kyōichirō admits defeat and slumps. 

"… You're welcome." 

Sakumo grins like a young boy and hoists Kakashi onto his shoulders. 

"Come on, Kakashi, let's go make dinner! Is there anything you don't eat, Kyōichirō-kun?" 

"No, I'm not picky." 

"Alright!" Sakumo bites his thumb and presses it to the ground. "Kuchiyose no jutsu!" 

Kyōichirō jumped when three dogs appeared out of thin air. 

… So this is ninjutsu… 

Kyōichirō chooses to log out of his logical mind and reboot his brain within the half-a-second he was allowed. 

"… What are their names?" 

Sakumo grins. 

"This one's Pokki, this one's Choko, and this one is Kiba!" 

… Isn't there a name that doesn't fit in, there? 

Also, Pocky? Doesn't that mean that Pocky also existed in this world? Interdimensional Pocky? That also implies that the Ezaki Glico company also exists here. 

Right. Turning his brain off again. He can save this headache for another day. 

"Okay, Pokki," Sakumo tells the dog. "Take this to the orphanage on the other side of the village, will you?" 

"Woof!" 

Sakumo tucks his note into the dog's bandanna and the dog takes off like the wind. 

Kyōichirō blinks, long and slow, before turning back to Sakumo. 

"… Is there anything I can help with for dinner?" 

"Nope!" Sakumo responds cheerfully. "Just sit down, Have some more tea, and relax." 

"But--" 

"Sh!" 

Kyōichirō sits down. 

 

Notes:

When Kakashi said "Wike", it was “好き” ("suki") in babytalk. So, "ちゅき” ("chuki)-- Kyoichiro mistook it as "月” ("tsuki") because he was interpreting Kakashi's babytalk and they sound very similar.

Chapter 5: The red light district and relevent Couple Drama.

Summary:

Uchiha are pretty interesting people, Kyoichiro thinks.

There was something up with Takayanagi Kyōichirō. 

Sakumo watches the boy as he walks away, waving. 

The boy had indeed stayed the night at Sakumo's insistence, but he had been completely on guard. 

Sakumo had snuck into the living room to check on the boy -- who Kakashi had stubbornly clung to for the rest of the night, and found the boy lying in the futon, but completely awake. 

One could argue it was because he was nervous, but Sakumo could not sense even a hint of anxiety within the child, even as he approached the futon. 

The boy had kept his eyes closed, steadily breathing. If Sakumo did not have such particular senses, he would truly have assumed the boy was asleep. 

Where does a child-- not even in the academy, learn to fake sleep even better than some jōnin he knows? 

Kyōichirō has also seemed to realise that Sakumo had been sniffing around him last night, looking at him meaningfully in the morning over breakfast, but said nothing. 

It was suspicious. 

It was suspicious, but Sakumo didn't have it in him to doubt the boy's intentions. He knew people like Kyōichirō. Empty, wandering people, who drifted here and there, let the river called life take them wherever. 

Its a kind of person who has seen many things, and has finally decided to rest.. 

He doesn't know how a five-year-old managed such an melancholic air, but he was sure he'd find out soon. 

 

*** 

  

Kyōichirō does not volunteer to babysit Kakashi. His expertise lies not with young children, but with teenagers.    

So, while he does accept requests when asked, he never outright offers.  

He does, however, hope that Kakashi grows up to be an interesting person. 

(Kakashi will grow up to be someone worth his time.) 

 

***  

 

"Uchiha-san." Kyōichirō greets, dodging the young maiko looking to play with him. "I don't often see you around these parts. Can I help you?" 

He examines the twitchy woman, at her casual state of dress, at the anxiety on her face, the annoyance set into her eyes. 

 She's not on duty, and she is incredibly irritable. 

Kyōichirō puts his hand on his mouth to cover the twitch of his lip that isn't there. 

It seems he's found a rather amusing situation. 

Uchiha-- upper-class, jounin, in the red light district while off-duty? While ninja visiting the red light district to see the geisha or the courtesans, it was rare for kunoichi-- and almost unheard of for clan ninja. 

Especially for such a high-ranking, well-respected member like Uchiha Retsuko. On top of that, her appearance does not even close to suggest that she is planning to see any of the entertainers. 

His amusement doesn't show on his face, but he still goes to cover his mouth with his hand. 

"... Kyōichirō-kun," Uchiha responds, on edge. It looked like she had to stop herself from snapping at him. "You do errands in the red light district as well?" 

"Just delivering some letters, Uchiha-san. Do you need another letter delivered?" 

Uchiha shakes her head. 

"No," She looks around herself warily. "... Have you seen Hizashi around here, by any chance?" 

Oh-hoh? 

"Hyūga-san?" Kyōichirō plays dumb. "He went to see Kiyozuru oiran." 

"He went to see... who?" 

"Kiyozuru oiran. From Yasamiya House, like Mamezuru oiran*." 

Uchiha blinks at him, with wet eyes, and Kyōichirō would feel bad for her if he didn't find this situation so incredibly amusing . 

"D-does he come here often?" 

"Mm, well, once or twice a month," Kyōichirō happily leads her down that thought train. "Not even Hyūga-san has enough money to see them that often." 

Indeed, Kiyozuru oiran was a household name in Hanamachi, and not a single person worth their salt didn't know her. 

Many nobles had fallen for her and subsequently ruined themselves for her, but she was never bought off, for a number of different reasons (but usually blackmail). 

"I actually happen to have a letter to deliver to them," Kyōichirō begins. "Shall we go together?" 

"I--" 

"Kyōichirō-kun." 

The intoxicating scent of wisteria, of sake, of sweetness like aphrodisiacs. 

The smell of the face powder they use around this part, of kimono, and the clinging smell of tobacco. 

Speak of the devil, and it shall appear. 

Ahh, the smell of tobacco only reminds him that he wants a smoke. Not for the first time, he curses being reborn as a child. 

"Kiyozuru-san," Kyōichirō greets, and the famous Kiyozuru oiran looks back at him, pale hair and blue eyes, not a distinctly Asian appearance, but not distinctly western, either. 

By their side were two kamuro, standing still as statues. 

Kiyozuru cocks their head to the side, glancing at Uchiha. 

"Who might this be?" They ask, a kind smile on blood-red lips. "People don't usually come around the back alley of the district. We don't receive guests here." 

"One of my acquaintances," Kyōichirō replies, mirroring the same level of 'fake' that Kiyozuru was showing him. "I deliver letters for her as well." 

"I see," The smile doesn't slip from the oiran's face, but Kyōichirō can tell she's annoyed at his vagueness. The slight tenseness of her shoulders, the not-quite-there crease between her brows. "I've just finished entertaining my guest, and I have something I need you to deliver to me." 

Kyōichirō gives them a single raised brow, and Kiyozuru shoots him a very familiar look. 

"... I think Kiyozuru-san needs to consider what my services are really for." 

She goes to pat her on the head, and he dodges it, still smiling the fake smile. He can see that Uchiha is starting to get unnerved by it. 

"I'll see if I have time, Kiyozuru-san," He bows to her. "If nothing else is needed, we will be on our way." 

Kyōichirō turns back to Uchiha Restuko, and quickly escorts her back to the main street. 

"You're looking for Hyuuga-san, right?" Kyōichirō quickly switches lanes. "Hyūga-san must have been a good customer, if she came out in such a good mood." 

Restuko visibly tenses beside him. 

"Kyōichirō-kun, do you know what okiya are…?" 

Ah, ah, ah, switching back. 

"Hyuuga-san should still be close to Yasamiya house," Kyōichirō ignores her. "We can ask Yasamiya oka-san for him." 

"Wait, Kyōichirō-kun--" 

"Restuko…?" 

Kyōichirō blinks. He's having a lot of amusing chance encounters today. 

"Hyuuga-san," Kyōichirō greets, a pulling a childish grin back onto his face. "Good timing. Uchiha-san was just looking for you." 

"Retsuko was…?" Hyūga Hisashi stands in front of him, eyes immediately darting to his lover. "What's wrong?" 

Uchiha's calm face turns into one of anger, though it wouldn't be visible to normal people. Kyōichirō and Hyūga could, however, see that she was furious. 

And maybe a little heartbroken. 

 

'You take too much joy in other people's suffering, sensei.'  

'Oh shush, as if you're the one to talk.'  

'Like master like disciple, they say…'  

'Can you tell both master and disciple to stop because I'm going to stab them if they keep laughing.'  

  

He straightens up his face forcefully. 

"What's wrong?" Retsuko intones calmly, but to anyone who knows anything about Uchiha mannerisms, it might as well have been a disdainful scoff. "I would've thought you would be too busy copulating with Kiyozuru oiran to think about what is wrong." 

Hisashi's flinch almost breaks Kyōichirō's blank-faced composure. 

"Wait, Retsuko--" 

"I don't recall allowing you to address me that way, Hyūga-san." 

"I--" 

Uchiha flicks her face to the side, calling to Kyōichirō. 

"Come on, Kyōichirō-kun, let's go." 

Kyōichirō blinks, looks at Hyūga-san who's too stunned to respond, at Uchiha-san who's absolutely furious, then looks up at the sky. Today was just getting funnier. 

"Uchiha-san," He responds. "I don't think Hyūga-san was having any sexual intercourse with Kiyozuru-san," Hyūga sputters, shocked at his wording. "Kiyozuru-san's supposed to be a virgin. That's why she's such the most expensive oiran to call out." 

Uchiha-san and Hyūga-san are both looking at him with eyes so wide that they're almost rolling out of their heads. 

"Also," Kyōichirō continues, looking around before pulling both the adults close. They startle and let him whisper into their ears. "Kiyozuru-san is not a real oiran. Kiyozuru-san is a man . He's secretly the oka-san of the Yasamiya house. Hyūga-san was probably seeing him for information dealing, right?" 

Uchiha-san's head whips back to look at Hyūga-san so fast that Kyōichirō worries her head will spin right off  

"It's true," Hyūga-san tells her, face a little red as they lean out of the circle. "It was for a mission. I can call Kiyozuru-san to meet him again if you want proof." 

"… No, I believe you," Uchiha-san responds, looking like she'd been smacked in the face with a fish. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, Hizashi." 

"No, anyone would have made that connection," He frets. "Sorry, I should have told you beforehand." 

"It was my mistake," She insists. "For Kiyozuru-san to be a man, though… they were so beautiful…" 

Hizashi frowns. 

"I think you're more beautiful." 

Objectively, Hyūga-san is wrong, but he supposes love is blind, indeed. Not to say Uchiha-san is ugly , per see, but the general pretty-facedness most Uchiha have is not the same kind of shocking beauty of the oirans and say, Orochimaru-san. 

Huh. Kyōichirō wonders if the man appreciated his gift from last time. 

Uchiha-san's face scrunches up and the tips of her ears burn bright red. 

"St-" She stutters, like a teenage maiden rather than a seasoned shinobi. "Stop saying such ridiculous things, you fool!" 

Ah, what a tsundere. 

Well, Kyōichirō looks back up at the sky. Looks like it's time for him to leave. 

"Speaking of which, Kyōichirō, why do you know about what they do in…?!" Uchiha turns to look at him, but he's already gone. 

The amusement had worn off already. 

He hopes them a happy life, but good riddance. 

  

*** 

  

"Kid." 

Kyōichirō turns to find the very severe-looking man in a KPF uniform behind him. 

Oh dear. 

It's the police. 

"Yes, Uchiha-san?" Kyōichirō tries to seem as non-threatening as possible, and it should be working, what with his downturned eyes and serene resting expression. "Do you need me for anything?" 

Kyōichirō's eyes flick over to the badge on the man's chest. 

Ah, this is the deputy head of the police force, Uchiha Fugaku. He's the man who-- in the case there are no bastard children anywhere and if no unfortunate accidents happen-- will be the next head of the Uchiha clan. 

Well. Time to employ his buttering-up skills. Ah, the joys of living in a Confucian country. 

"You must be Takayanagi Kyōichirō-kun, correct?" 

Kyōichirō nods. 

"I am," He politely places his hands in front of himself to show his humility. 

"... Come with me." 

"Yes sir." 

Oh dear, was he getting arrested again? 

 

*** 

  

This was supposed to be the kid stringing Restuko and Hizashi's relationship around like a puppet?  

He looks like the small boy with long lashes and pudgy cheeks, and cannot find the 'threat to Uchiha reputation' that all those elders were whining about after they got a bunch of their people to follow Restuko around. Actually, the kid almost looks like an Uchiha himself. 

Either way, there was no way that Hisashi didn't notice the people tailing them into the red light district. Just because the elders had no respect for the byakugan didn't mean that it didn't actually work . 

However, the boy's lack of fear in sitting in a consultation booth in the police station is somewhat concerning. 

But then again, the other members have had the pleasure of fishing Kyōichirō out of the Naka river multiple times, so there was that. 

 

'That kid was floating down the river face-down, Fugaku-san!" One of them had wailed to him. 'I thought it was a corpse!"  

'Fugaku-sama,' Another member had suggested. 'Perhaps we should have more men patrol the back of the Uchiha lands...'  

'Fugaku-sama,' One of the jōnin on break had told him severely after he told them to let the kid swim if he wanted to swim. 'if you saw him, you'd think he was trying a submersion. No one floats down the river face-down when they're 'going for a swim'.'  

  

It had gotten to a point where the poor matron of the orphanage would bring treats for the police force as thanks for interrupting the child's attempts at... Swimming. 

"Have you been here before, kid?" 

Takayanagi Kyōichirō-- and wasn't it a nasty shock when he found out his name was written with the word 'curse' when he signed in at the front desk-- blinks at him, looking so innocent and clueless that it rubs Fugaku the wrong way to be interrogating him like this. 

(His intuition also tells him that being a cute kid isn't all there is to the boy, the calculating gaze, the almost deliberate way he curls in on himself and shows his hands to prove he isn't a threat-- there's something terribly wrong with it.) 

"... Yes," The boy answers, looking so effortlessly adorable that Fugaku kind of feels guilty and wants to just be done with this thing and let the 5-- god, 5-year-old!-- go. "Once, to pick up and bring a child back to the orphanage, and a few times after the police officers took me from my swims in the river." 

"I see." 

So he's never been in a booth before-- most kids would have been pissing themselves in his shoes. For some reason, Fugaku finds himself unable to endear to children, and almost always end up making them cry. And then Kushina and Mikoto laugh at him. 

"Don't worry," He tries reassuring, even though the kid didn't seem to need any comfort. "You're not in trouble." 

The kid looks at him and waits for him to continue. 

He tries to think of a non-threatening way to phrase what he wants to say. 

"The Uchiha and the Hyūga clans have a lot of tension," He begins. So far so good. "And relationships between clan members should not be encouraged, especially not by outsiders." 

Shit, that sounded like a threat. 

"I... See," The boy responds. "So this is about Uchiha Retsuko-san and Hyūga Hizashi-san." 

He's sharp, Fugaku would give him that. 

"Yes." 

The boy's demeanor seems to change, slouching a little in his seat and crossing his legs. His confident, relaxed posture looks all-too out of place for a 5 year-old. 

"I'm simply delivering letters, Uchiha-san," The boy tells him. "I don't open the letters, so I wouldn't know the nature of the contents," He rests his head a little to the side, eyes staring right into Fugaku's. When was the last time someone had stared into an Uchiha's eyes head-on? "They could be mission correspondence, for all I know." 

Well, if the boy says it like that... Let it not be said that Fugaku does his utmost best to please the elders. This would e an excellent 'fuck you' to their old ideas and customs, indeed. 

"I understand," He agrees easily, and Takayanagi looks at him as if he was expecting there to be more of an argument, but nods in response quickly. "I'll escort you out." 

The kid follows him back to the front desk obediently and signs his name neatly in the records book. 

"Wait, kid," Fugaku calls out as the boy finishes signing his name in the most beautiful handwriting from a 5-year-old he's ever seen. The boy should look into a career in calligraphy. "Here." 

He holds out a bowl filled with candy. 

"Thanks for cooperating." 

Takayanagi looks at him, and something changes in the boy's eyes. Fugaku feels like he's gained the boy's approval as the boy reaches in and takes a singular piece of candy, bowing. 

"Thank you." 

Fugaku escorts him out, and the boy smiles a small smile as he waves at him. 

He feels an inexplicable sense of accomplishment. 

He kind of feels like how he feels after his old man acknowledges him a little bit. 

Oh, Amaterasu, he's going to get attached, isn't he? 

  

*** 

  

"Minato-san," Kyōichirō hands the young man a cup of tea. 

"Thank you," Minato, off duty today, takes the offering. "I told you to just call me Minato..." 

"Can you teach me how to make a storage seal?" Kyōichirō asks. "Can regular people make seals?" 

Minato looks at him, curious. 

"Why do you want to learn?" Minato's tone turns excited. "Could it be that you're finally considering becoming a ninja?!" 

Kyōichirō blinks slowly at him. 

"No." He responds shortly. "I just want to be able to move all this,' He gestures to his mat and pillows and books. "around more conveniently." 

Minato sighs, disappointed, before reaching for a leaf on the grass. 

"It's definitely possible for non-shinobi to use seals," Minato tells him, holding it up to his forehead. "A lot of merchants actually use storage seals to transport goods. But, you need to be able to manipulate a little bit of chakra to activate one." 

Miraculously, the leaf he holds to his head sticks, even as he removes his hand. 

"With seals, what you need is control," Minato tells him. Kyōichirō watches in fascination as the leaf traverses Minato's face and onto his bare arm exposed by his sleeveless shirt. "You need to be able to move your chakra along the lines." 

Kyōichirō considers. 

"Is it the same theory with chakra-conductive weaponry?" 

Minato smiles, eyes glittering again with too much excitement for Kyōichirō's taste. 

"Exactly!" Minato exclaims. "Chakra-conducting weapons are actually made with seal work so that chakra can travel through the metal!” 

That's interesting, actually, Kyōichirō presses his fingers to his chin. 

"Would it work with wire, too?" He asks. "I don't suppose there would be much space to draw seals." 

Minato hums, face scrunching as he thinks hard. 

"It can be done," Minato tells him. "But it's really, really expensive and it's really easy for the seals to wear off, and then you'll have to pay another huge sum of money to get new wire." 

"Sounds unsustainable." 

"It is." 

Kyōichirō picks up a leaf from the grass. 

"So, how do I go about feeling for chakra?" 

Minato scoots to sit across from him and presses a hand to his stomach.. Kyōichirō tries not to flinch away from his touch. 

"Close your eyes..." 

Kyōichirō does, despite feeling terribly uncomfortable. 

When a foreign warmth starts to invade his body, he reflexively fights it with his own warmth, and Minato's hand flies away, burned. 

Kyōichirō's eyes fly open at the smell of seared flesh, and he runs to Minato's side. 

"Minato-san, are you alright?" He looks at the man's hand, red-pink and burned, but not too badly. It looks like a hot-water burn. "I apologize, I reacted instinctively.” 

Minato doesn't even seem to register the pain in his hand, staring at Kyōichirō with wonder-filled eyes. 

"Kyōichirō-kun!" Minato's hands fly to his shoulders, burned hand and all, and Kyōichirō has to once again fight the instinct to go for his throat. "I think you might have a natural talent for chakra manipulation!" 

"Minato-san, perhaps you should go to the hospital for your burn--" 

"Most people can't even feel the chakra on their first try!" Minato bowls right over him, and Kyōichirō can't get used to it, because he's usually the one jerking people around in conversations. "But you managed to fight it with your own chakra! That's amazing! As I thought, you should--" 

The feeling of a presence of a presence closing in on his right startles him, and his head whips towards it. 

"Minato, let that poor child go and let me take a look at your hand." 

Both Kyōichirō and Minato stare when one pale and vaguely amused Orochimaru emerges from the thicket, and Kyōichirō curses the existence of chakra that can hide someone's presence from such a close distance. Kyōichirō could barely tell they were there. 

"Orochimaru-sama!" Minato leaps to his feet. "Did you need something?" 

"I hate to repeat myself, Minato," Orochimaru says and Minato immediately shows the palm of his burned hand. "Has Jiraiya left the village again?" 

"Yes," Minato ignores the glow of Orochimaru's hands to make eye-contact. "He left the village again last week.” 

"The Ame orphans, I assume?" 

"I think so, yes." 

Kyōichirō watches with great interest as the red burned skin on Minato's hand reforms itself back to it's sun-kissed tone, practically flawless other than the tell-tale signs of battle in his blisters-turned calluses and silvery streaks of scars. 

Minato's hands are beautiful. 

Familiar, beautiful hands. 

Kyōichirō runs his hands over themselves again, unnerved by their smooth, unblemished state. 

"Child." 

Kyōichirō meets Orochimaru's gaze. 

"Yes?" 

Orochimaru considers him, yellow-amber eyes scanning him up-and down like a CAT scan. 

"...You were the child with Sakumo's infant at the izakaya." 

"Yes, Orochimaru-san." 

Their brow raises at the form of address, and Minato outright leaps out of his skin in fright, but evidently, the man? Woman? Doesn't seem to take issue with it, and just continues the conversation. 

"... Thank you for the tea." 

Kyōichirō smiles a customer-service-I'm-talking-to-my-boss smile. 

"I hope it wasn't lukewarm." 

Orochimaru seems to consider him again, before speaking. 

"You've understood how chakra feels now, correct?"  

He was watching that?" 

"Yes," Kyōichirō picks up the leaf and sticks it onto his forehead with the same warmth he felt earlier, and channels more focus to slide the leaf from one side of his forehead to the other. "It's still a bit difficult." 

Minato gapes and Orochimaru's brows fly up. 

"That's amazing, Kyōichirō-kun!" Minato cheers. "Most people can only stick it onto their forehead for a few seconds, but you can move it around on the first try?!" 

Kyōichirō shrugs, removing the leaf. 

"It's the same concept as moving the heat and cool in your body around to change your body temperature." 

Orochimaru blinks slowly. 

"... You can manipulate your body temperature." He repeats. 

Ah, he's said too much. 

"Do I just do the same thing to activate a seal?" He asks. 

"Yep!" Minato says, pulling a roll of paper out of his bag. "Here, this is an empty scroll. I'll draw a seal for you.” 

Minato crouches to the ground and begins drawing, and Orochimaru scowls. 

"Like master, like apprentice," Orochimaru mutters. 

Kyōichirō gestures to a spot on the mat. 

"Please have a seat, Orochimaru-san," He tells him. "I have some hot tea." 

Orochimaru seems to hesitate for a moment, but sits and lets Kyōichirō hand him a cup of tea. 

Kyōichirō manages to activate the storage seal. 

He gets home with a lot less hassle after that. 

 

*** 

  

Orochimaru sits, thinking about one young Takayanagi Kyōichirō. 

In front of him, Minato is cheering the boy on as they insert items into the newly made storage scroll and take things out of it as if it’s the most fascinating thing ever. 

The boy had sensed him before he had even revealed himself, eyes darting to his location in the bushes. It was as riveting and suspicious as it was interesting. 

And Orochimaru is someone who likes interesting things. 

 

***  

  

Yuta eyes Kyōichirō sitting in the rocking chair, yet another heavy tomb in his hands that looks like it could bludgeon someone to death in the first hit. 

It was night, and Kyōichirō was watching over the infants again. 

"Hey," Yuta begins, gesturing Himi over to himself. "... Have you ever seen Kyō-nī sleep?" 

"Never." 

"Me neither," Yuta continues. 

"..." 

"..." 

"Oh my god, Kyō-nī's a vampire." 

Notes:

１* Okiya workers usually have one character in their name that is the same. In the Yasamiya Okiya's case, it is the character '鶴' (zuru), therefore Kiyo-'zuru' and Mame-'zuru'.
Also: Are any of you guys interested in reading a BNHA/Naruto crossover or a BNHA/JJK crossover?

Chapter 6: schoolyard bullying. fun.

Summary:

A snippet of his past, and a sense of deja vu in the present.
Also, Danzo, who Kyoichiro has lovingly named "Shimura-dono" (derogatory).

Notes:

I felt like it so I wrote another chapter!

April, 2016.

It wasn't ever as if Kyōichirō had gotten rid of all his knee-jerk reactions and paranoia after he became a teacher. They were still there. 

Kyōichirō was simply too skilled to slip up-- too well-trained not to notice a student trying to scare him from a mile away, too perceptive to notice minute expression changes, so good at what he did that anything else was easy in comparison. 

In fact, Kyōichirō hummed as he rounded the corner of the west wing building, his background was what made him an optimal teacher. It was simply his personality and nosiness that separated him from 'good' teachers and made him an objectively bad teacher. 

He was a teacher who played favourites, a teacher who was too involved with the students, a teacher who was simply too much of a 'friend'. 

"Won't you boys stop that?" 

As usual, students don't notice his approach. They never do-- Kyōichirō had never quite managed to remember to make noise when he walked. He doesn't think he could not hide his footsteps, anymore. 

Three of the four children in front of the dumpster turn to look at him. 

"Shit, it's Takayanagi!" One of them hiss, already leaping to his feet. 

"Takayanagi?" Kyōichirō frowns. "Without any honorifics at all? It's Takayanagi-sensei." 

"Taka-chan-sensei!" The girl, Mirin-san from his second year Ethics Elective Class, exclaims. 

"... I'd rather you just call me Takayanagi then." 

"Is this the time to be going on about this?!" The first boy hisses. Ah, it's Yukie-kun from the same class. 

Kyōichirō stuffs his hands in his kimono sleeves, considering. 

His eyes dart from the trembling, beat-up boy in the corner by the dumpster to the three kids surrounding him, at Yukie-kun, at Mirin-san with her phone in her hands, at Jiro-kun whose fists are noticeably roughed up. 

He sighs. 

Yukie shifts his feet guiltily as he stares at the floor. 

Jiro scowls. 

"What is it?!" He snaps. Kyōichirō has never taught him before. "It's just a teacher! Come on, Yukie! Mirin!" 

"Come on, what?!" Yukie responds in a panic. "It's Takayanagi-- uh, Takayanagi-sensei! He's going to beat the shit out of you!" 

"Beat the shit out of me?" Jiro scoffs, his scowls slowly turning into a taunting grin. "He's just an old man!" Ouch. "And teachers aren't allowed to touch students anyway!" 

"You idiot-- he throws chalk like they're fucking bullets--!" 

"Maybe not," Kyōichirō replies, cutting Yukie off, and picking up a metal pipe that was conveniently leaning by the wall. "But in a backwater public school like this…" 

Kyōichirō holds it between his hands and slowly lifts it up, before smashing it violently against the wall with a loud clang! and bending it almost in half with the force. 

He smiles at them pleasantly. 

"I don't think anyone will do anything about it, hm?” 

Jiro's tanned pallor pales drastically before he backs away. 

"I'll…!" He trembles, enough that Kyōichirō almost wants to laugh. "I'll report you to the police!" He screeches. 

Jiro looks like he's about to dart away like the hounds of hell were on his heels. 

Kyōichirō frowns. He did set out to intimidate the boy a little, but was that reaction really warranted? 

"Yukie-kun, Jiro-kun, Mirin-san," Kyōichirō starts. "Bullying, really?" 

The first-year victim-- Kyōichirō's never taught them before, whimpers, frightened. 

"You can't just let us go for this, Taka-chan-sensei?" Mirin whines. "We only shoved him around a little, right, Yuki-tan?" 

"Afraid not, Mirin-san," Kyōichirō replies blandly. "This is grounds for suspension. Or expulsion, considering the rumors making their rounds in the staff room." 

"Aww." 

Yukie curses under his breath. 

Kyōichirō sighs. 

"You four," He begins. "Follow me to ethics classroom.”  

They follow. 

"What do you think is going to happen to us?" He hears Mirin ask, more curious than fearful. "Should we make a run for it?" 

"Make a run for it?!" Yukie hisses. "You saw him fuck up that metal pole! He's going to break our bones like Pocky!" 

... They do know he can hear them, right? 

Jiro speaks up. 

"But if we run fast enough--" 

"Jiro. Jiro I have seen that man outrun Yasuda-senpai in our track team to catch him for not doing his homework," Yukie emphasizes. "Yasuda-senpai. The Track and Field Club ace. The ace of our Track and Field Club that made it to nationals and got second place. The guy that's already being scouted by universities. Don't even fucking think about it." 

Kyōichirō fishes his keys out of his pocket and opens the door, gesturing them inside. 

"Well," Mirin shrugs as she walks in fearlessly. "I guess we're screwed." 

Kyōichirō closes the door behind him and locks it after he herds the kids in. Yukie visibly flinches as he does so. 

"Take a seat," Kyōichirō gestures to the front row as he leans on the teacher's desk in front of the blackboard. 

The kids take the seats down from the tables and sit. 

Jiro looks like he's about to soil himself but maintains his false bravado, Yukie has since entered into the last stage of grief of acceptance, Mirin is as relaxed as ever, and the poor first-year boy is fiddling with his fingers and practically vibrating with anxiety. 

"Let's start with self-introductions," Kyōichirō rests his elbows on the desk behind him. "I'm Takayanagi-sensei, the school counsellor who was forced to teach ethics. Also, this constitution does not nearly compensate me enough, so I must admit, bribery may benefit you." 

"Is that really something a teacher is supposed to say...?" 

Kyōichirō shoots Jiro a glance, smiling, and the boy clams up. 

"I'm Mirin Rika!" The girl introduces. "I'm in class 2-E!" 

"Mirin's in the advanced class? Since when?!" 

"Since forever?!" 

Kyōichirō coughs. 

"... Yukie Naoto. 2-B." 

"Jiro Kensuke. 2-B." 

They all look towards the first-year boy. 

"Takamine Kisaragi-desu. I'm in class 1-E." 

Oh. So, this child was in the advanced class as well. Huh... Takayanagi doesn't really know many of the first-year teachers other than the ones who teach his own students in first year and the ones who teach across year levels. 

Kyōichirō doesn't miss a beat. 

"I've just decided that Kisaragi-kun is my favourite--" 

"Wha--at?!" Mirin whines, but her face is completely blank. "I thought I was the favourite." 

"Don't kid yourself, Mirin, you were never the favourite.” 

"--So," Kyōichirō bowls right on, as if he were never interrupted. "He will be starting our Twenty Questions game." 

With a completely flat expression, Kyōichirō claps his hands together. 

Mirin mirrors his… excitement, raising her hands like she was at a rave. 

"Let's go clockwise, Takamine-kun," Kyōichirō gestures. "Please ask me a question." 

"E-eh? Uhm," Takamine fiddles as the second years stare him down. "H-how old are you, sensei?" 

"… Pass." 

Mirin slams her hands on the table in mock outrage. 

"Sensei." She points a (not-so) furious finger at him. "That's against the rules." 

"Wait, we can't pass?" 

"How is a 5-way 20 questions supposed to work, anyways? This is going to take forever." 

"Everyone has to answer 10 questions!" Yukie declares, taking charge all of a sudden. "Please keep the tally on the blackboard, sensei." 

"Now you call me sensei," Kyōichirō says under his breath as he picks up a piece of chalk. 

"Ah-ah," Jiro squints at him. "Don't think you can get away with not answering the question!" 

"… 42." 

"42?!" The boys exclaim all at once while Mirin's eyes go wide. 

"… You're a liar," Yukie accuses. "You don't look a day over 25." 

"Okay, Jiro-kun!" Kyōichirō moves on, much to the outrage of the children in the room. "What about Takamine-kun made you assault him behind the school building?" 

It's a sort of bluntness that makes even the victim of the bullying wince. 

"… He was the first one to walk past, and we wanted spare change," Jiro says carefully. He's smarter than he seems, catching onto how Kyōichirō latches on to lies. 

"Jiro--!" 

A piece of chalk smacks the table that Yukie is seated at, exploding into a cloud of dust and leaving a dent on the table. 

"Be quiet, Yukie-kun," Kyōichirō looks at him, another piece of chalk already rolling between his fingers. "It's not your turn." 

Cautiously, Jiro turns to Mirin. 

"… Mirin," He begins, clearly unsure of what to ask. "What colour are you planning to dye your hair next?" 

Mirin twirls the light brown hair she'd been reprimanded for countless times, contemplating. 

"I'm thinking pink," she says. "I might get bangs, too…" 

"Which is against the school rules," Kyōichirō comments blandly. "Much like the hair you have now." 

"I-I think it'd suit you, Mirin-san!"  Takamine cuts in. 

Mirin grins. 

"Don't you think?" 

Takamine smiles softly as Mirin turns to talk to Yukie. 

Kyōichirō blinks. 

Oh? 

"How's your girlfriend doing?" 

Mirin's grin turns vicious as Yukie crosses his arms defensively and sniffs. 

"I dumped her." 

"You mean she dumped you," Jiro shamelessly exposes him. 

Yukie looks positively insulted by the correction and turns huffily in the spot to ask Takamine a question. 

"What club are you in?" 

"I'm not in any," Takamine responds meekly, shoulders hunching forward. Kyōichirō's eyes narrow. It's a curling in on oneself that looks just a little too deliberate. "I decided not to join because our school doesn't make it compulsory." 

The boy turns to Kyōichirō. 

"That's five questions all together?" The boy begins. "Then, sensei, why do you work here?" 

Kyōichirō raises a brown, before leaning further into the teacher's desk. 

"... Why?" 

"I'm sure you could have worked at a better school, so why here?" 

Kyōichirō considers it for a moment. 

"I thought it would be more interesting." 

"That's it?!" Yukie blurts out. "Aren't you interested in getting paid more??" 

"You know sensei only jokes about his pay, right?" 

"No, he always says everything in the same tone so we can never tell if he's joking or not!" 

Mirin shrugs. 

"I think it's a part of Taka-chan-sensei's charm." 

"Charm?!" Yukie's eyes are swimming. "That guy? Has charm???" 

Aa, these children, really.  

The mood continued to get lighter. 

  

*** 

 

"What did you have for dinner last night?" 

"Stir-fried ginger pork!" 

"Do you have siblings?" 

"No. Do you?" 

The questions run through quickly. They're already mostly ignoring the order and are now sort of just... casually chatting. 

"Jiro-kun," Takayanagi begins. "You didn't pick this club as an elective. Why?" 

They were 30 questions in, and they had honestly forgot about why they were here in the first place. 

Kensuke glances around uncomfortably before answering. In any other case, it would have been a casual question. 

"... I chose home economics instead,' He decides to respond. 

"Home ec.?" Mirin drawls as Kensuke shoots her a nasty glance that would make anyone other than Mirin apologize. "Don't tell me you're still taking care of your deadbeat mom." 

Yukie whips his head around, looking more furious than Kensuke's seen him since... ever, actually.  

"You're still taking care of her?" 

"Hey," Kensuke's retort is more subdued than he was trying for. "She's getting better, butt out of my business" 

"You--!" 

Yukie can't even finish his sentence, too full of pure anger. 

"Don't tell me you wanted Kisa-cchi's money so you could afford your mom's cigs," Mirin frowns as Takamine mouths 'Kisa-cchi' to himself, eyes wide. 

"Butt. Out." 

"Butt out....?" Yukie smacks a hand on his neck, making a physically pained expression. "My blood pressure...!" 

"... Aren't you too young to be worrying about your blood pressure, Yukie-kun?" 

"Aren't you a little too unhinged to be an ethics teacher, sensei?" 

"... Touché." 

Takamine nervously twiddles with his thumbs before speaking up. 

"Uh-uhm!" He stutters. "Putting a brick in your toilet tank is good for saving water bills!" 

"... what?" 

"A-and you should save your rice water to wash dishes and water plants! It-its also cheaper to grow your own spring onion with the stalk instead of buying it...!" 

The classroom falls dead silent. 

"... Repeat that again." 

"S-Sorry!" 

"I'm telling you to repeat it!" Kensuke snaps, pulling out a notebook from his pocket. "Jeez, if you had these tips, you should've told me earlier." 

"Uh," Yukie hesitantly points out. "I think you were too busy beating the snot out of him, dude." 

Yukie leans towards Takamine in her chair and places her hands on his shoulders. 

"Yeah, sorry about that, Kisa-cchi," She apologises. 

"Oh," Takamine smiles-- it's a smile like the sun. "It's okay." 

Kensuke sees Takayanagi put a hand to his chin in contemplation at Takamine's words. The teacher was always like that. People think Kensuke is stupid, but he sees the way Takayanagi acts, paying more attention to some kids over others, dancing around personal questions and playing favourites as easily as he breathes. 

Allowances he makes for some children and not others, some things he does out of spite of some teachers, some things he relents. 

"Yeah, sorry, Takamine," Yukie apologises. 

"..." Kensuke swallows his pride. "Sorry, Takamine." 

"Ah," Kensuke feels the freezing-cold-glacial pierce of disinterest in Takamine's gaze, but then it's gone as soon as he blinks, replaced by a shy smile. "It's fine." 

... What was that? 

Kensuke chances a look at Takayanagi, and sees a look of... Excitement? 

One hand is over his mouth, and one is crossed over his chest, but his eyes are wide, glistening, focused. 

He turns back to the scene next to him, the three of his fellow students chattering together happily.  

There was something off with both Takayanagi and Takamine, but Kensuke cannot figure out what. 

  

*** 

 

Kyōichirō, 8 years old and this close to dodging the bullet called the Academy, eyes the man sitting across from him in the izakaya. 

Shimura Danzo is a severe looking man that Kyōichirō just instinctually does not like. He reminds him a little too much of the higher-ups in the assassination business. 

God, how did he even end up in this situation? 

Right.  

His uncontrollable habit of going after things he became curious about. 

His stomach just turns when he finds interesting things, he couldn’t help it! 

  

*** 

 

Kyōichirō had been returning from a fence-painting errand near the bathhouses, and just happened across a suspicious old man hanging around at the wall covering the women's open baths. 

His first impulse is to ignore the man and move along. 

He had seen no shortage of sex offenders both in this life and his previous one, and he was sure the KPF patrolling nearby would punt the man into a prison cell if he tried anything funny. 

However... 

Kyōichirō allows himself a second glance. 

Long, messy white hair. A red haori. Large geta, and a wart on his face. 

He blinks. 

Was this man not Minato's teacher? The legendary Sannin, Jiraiya? 

Kyōichirō considers his choices. 

One, he could ignore the man and go one his merry way. 

Or two, he could interrupt the man and feed his curiosity around Minato's teacher. 

Of course, it's obvious which impulse wins out. 

A ninja, hm? 

Kyōichirō hadn't ever encountered a ninja in his past life, and he also hasn't trained in this life. 

But... 

Kyōichirō exhales. 

The risk is what makes it exhilarating. 

His body temperature lowers, matching the wind, the air around him, the environment he's standing in. 

His heartbeat slows to a quiet, lazy beat-- carefully overlapping with every rustle of the leaves, every whistle of the breeze, the splash-splash-splash of the onsen water and every murmur from beyond the bamboo fence. 

One step, and his sandals don't even make a print on the dirt ground. 

A second step, and he's even closer. 

A third step, and Kyōichirō's hand whips out and fingers thread through bristly white hair and pulls. 

"Gyargh...!" Jiraiya flails in a way that's unbecoming of a shinobi of his standing, arms waving frantically as he falls flat on his back. "Princess, it's not what you--!" 

The man seems to quickly realise it's not 'princess', but an eight-year-old child, and jumps out of his skin. 

"A kid?!" He screams. "Whose kid are you?! No, are you an Uchiha?! Jesus, these fu-uh, these damn Uchiha geniuses sneaking up on me all the time...!" 

Kyōichirō shoots him a blank look. 

"It's Takayanagi." 

"Huh?" 

"It's Takayanagi Kyōichirō." 

"You," The hulking toad man seems to look around for someone, then turns back to the kid. "You mean you're not an Uchiha-kid?" 

"Not an Uchiha, sir." 

"Then how did you...?" 

Kyōichirō offers him a fake smile. 

"Sir, it's not very good to impose on people's privacy like this." 

"Listen, kid, this is adult business." 

"This is sexual harassment." 

"I'm just a pervert trying to live laugh love!" 

"You're a sex offender ." 

"You little--" 

"I'm going to report this is Fugaku-san." 

"Fugaku?" Jiraiya scoffs. "What's that little squirt gonna do? Scare me with his funky spinney eyes?" 

... Funky spinney eyes? 

"Fugaku-san's going to tell on you to Mikoto-san," Kyōichirō informs him cheerfully. "She's actually famous around these parts for--" 

Kyōichirō makes a show of looking left and right before he gestures the man to come closer. 

The man does so, curious. 

"She's famous for making this part," Kyōichirō points to the man's pants. "Unusable." 

The man practically leaps away from the bamboo fence. 

"I-is that so...!" He laughs nervously. "Well, this Jiraiya-sama is superior to any Uchiha cas-" Ah. He stumbled over his sentence just now. "-castrator, but haha, come to think of it, I have things to do...!" 

"Now, kid," he continues. "You didn't see me he--" 

The two of them both stop to look into the trees. 

Jiraiya inches in front of him, effectively shielding him with his towering stature. 

"Who is it?!" He barks. "Show yourself!" 

A flash of black clothing and a bone-white mask, and their stalker had high-tailed it out of there. 

"... Was that person tailing the kid, or me?" Jiraiya murmurs. 

Kyōichirō blinks rapidly. 

What was that? ANBU? No... 

"That didn't look like the nice mask ninja," Kyōichirō carefully points out. "Their mask was different." 

Jiraiya's jaw sets grimly. 

"I'll report this to the Hokage, kid," The man's large hand comes to rest on Kyōichirō's head. It's such a large hand that Kyōichirō's entire scalp is noogied as the man ruffles his hair. "I'll walk you home." 

Kyōichirō thinks he could get home just fine himself, but... 

"... Thank you, sir," He removes the hand from his head. "I hope I don't catch you doing this again next time." 

"Cheeky brat." 

Kyōichirō gives him another fake smile. 

  

*** 

  

Well, now he knows who the perp is... Probably. 

He looks Shimura Danzo in the eye and considers. 

No, it probably wasn't the man himself. The figure was too different. An underling, perhaps? 

Shimura takes a sip of his tea. 

"Who gave you your name, Takayanagi-kun?" He asks. "I was under the impression your orphanage only gives out first names." 

Kyōichirō smiles a nice customer service smile at him. To put it crudely, kissing his superior's ass was something he had a lot of experience in. 

"I chose it myself," he tells the man, not untruthfully. "It just felt familiar to me." 

The man raises a brow. 

"Even the characters of your name?" 

"Yes." 

Kyōichirō does not falter, even as the man tries to take him apart with his eyes. 

"... I see.” 

Kyōichirō purposely does not try to fill in the awkward silence, simply breaking off a piece of his yokan (he would be sure to force the tab on Shimura later) and putting it in his mouth. 

"Takayanagi-kun," The man begins anew, after a moment. "Would you like to join a specialized ninja training organization--" 

"No, thank you," Kyōichirō responds quickly, ignoring the jingle of bells as a new party sits themselves at a table nearby. 

"Are you su--" 

"Yes, sir." 

"... Kyōichirō-kun--" 

"It's Takayanagi, Shimura-dono." 

Shimura inhales deeply through his nose. 

"Takayanagi-kun," He begins anew. "As a resident of the Leaf, you have an obligation to--" 

"Live my life happily and pay taxes so that the shinobi-san who protect our village are compensated properly!" Kyōichirō smiles. "Yes, I like my duty very much." 

"Takayanagi-kun, do you feel no sense of national obligation?" He asks. "There is honor in fighting in the front lines--" 

Ah, Kyōichirō patience is running thin. 

"There is no honor in being a shinobi, sir," Kyōichirō responds. "Shinobi are not samurai, Shimura-dono," He gives the man a pitying look. "It seems your age is catching up to you, if you cannot differentiate, have you considered retiring?" 

He chances a look at the booth near them when he hears a surprised snort, but there's no further noise, only the demure backs of three ninja.  

No, actually, Kyōichirō squints, their shoulders are trembling. What were they, teenagers? 

"You have a duty to the Leaf! 

"Which I carry out properly every day, Shimura-dono," He continues pleasantly in his kissing-ass voice. "The shinobi are fighting for civilian safety, and as a civilian, I am properly thankful for it every day." 

"You don't feel an obligation to repay the Leaf for--" 

"Shimura-dono," Kyōichirō cuts him off. "We repay the shinobi every day with our free items at the markets and fundraisers. I assure you, we are repaying the shinobi properly." 

When Shimura opens his mouth again, indignation on his face, Kyōichirō loses his temper and accidentally knocks over his cup of tea. 

Specifically, he knocks the tea in Shimura's direction. 

Accidently . 

Another muffled cough to disguise a laugh from the side, and Kyōichirō doesn't even look in their direction. Ah, teenagers. How nostalgic. (Nostalgic in the most tiring way possible, he definitely doesn’t think.) 

The hot tea spills all over Danzo's prim and proper kimono, and Kyōichirō stands up abruptly. 

"Oh no, Shimura-dono!" He exclaims. "I've accidentally knocked over my tea, what should I do!" 

"You...!" 

"Oh, stop terrorizing the kid, Danzo-sama," A familiar voice calls out from the side. "It was an accident, let it go." 

Shimura-sama looks away from the dripping mess on his lap and turns to the voice. 

"... Yamanaka." 

Kyōichirō blinks in surprise. 

"Inoichi-san," He greets. 

"Hey, Kyōichirō-kun!" Inoichi greets cheerfully, his mouth still twitching and eyes still teary from trying to muffle his laughter. "Is Danzo-sama giving you trouble?" 

"Of course not," Kyōichirō responds pleasantly. "How could Shimura-dono cause me any trouble?" 

"... I will be taking my leave," Shimura seems to decide he's had quite enough of Kyōichirō. "I hope you will... Reconsider my offer, Takayanagi-kun." 

"I assure you I will not change my mind, but thank you for the invitation, Shimura-dono." 

The man scowls at him and walks off, clothes dripping with hot tea. 

"Thank you, Yamanaka-san," He bows shallowly. 

"It's no problem." 

Kyōichirō turns to the bill on the table and frowns. 

So the bill lies with him, huh? 

He goes to pull his wallet from his kimono sleeve, but Yamanaka stops him in the action. 

"Have a cup of tea with me, Kyōichirō-kun?" He says, ignoring the companions he came with. "I heard they recently released a western dessert here, I'll treat you." 

Kyōichirō blinks, then says slowly, "Didn't you come here with your friends, Yamanaka-san?" 

The blonde waves a careless hand. 

"They can handle a single meal without me," He grins. "My sister came here yesterday, and she brought some of the dessert home, so I can assure you its good." 

"If you came for lunch, you shouldn't fill yourself with dessert instead," Kyōichirō admonishes almost reflexively. "You'll upset your stomach." 

Goodness, his Oji-san instinct has followed him even to this world. 

"Kyōichirō-kun, you sound like my dad." 

"Well, your dad is right." 

"Bwahaha!" He guffaws. "Jeez, maybe you were an old man in your past life or something!" 

... Wow. 

"Hey, Misa-chan!" He calls out the waitress. "Can I have two cheesecakes and a fresh pot of tea here!" 

"Of course, coming right up!" 

Oh? 

Kyōichirō sips his lukewarm tea and eyes Yamanaka. 

"You know the waitress by name?" 

Inoichi immediately freezes and glances at Kyōichirō. 

"Doesn't everyone?" He smoothly amends. "Misa-chan's worked here for a while." 

Kyōichirō raises a single brow. 

"Say," he begins. "Misaki-san is always wearing a silver bracelet..." 

With a fluid movement of his arm, he pulls up Yamanaka's long-sleeved shirt and reveals a matching one. 

"!!!" 

The silence speaks for itself. 

"W-well," Yamanaka's ears turn red. "We've been seeing each other for a while." 

Hah, Yamanaka-kun's too young to hide anything from Kyōichirō just yet. Maybe he should try again in another century. 

His smugness must show on his face, because Yamanaka gives him a tired look. 

"... Stop reacting like my dad would, please." 

Kyōichirō just turns back to his cup and pours in the newly hot tea. 

Yamanaka sighs as if he was the one who had been accosted in the middle of the day by a suspicious government man. 

Honestly, Kyōichirō thinks as he blows softly at his cup, teenagers these days. 

  

*** 

  

"Flip out your pockets!" A child's voice jeers. "I know your parents are rich, Uchiha, so hurry up!" 

Orochimaru tries to ignore it. 

It's children's squabbling, it was no big deal. 

  

"Flip your pockets out, Orochimaru!" A child's voice jeers. "Your parents must have left all their dirty money to you!" 

"Yeah!" Another child's voice. "You should offer it up as compensation for what they did!"  

 

He grits his teeth and turns around, beelining towards the grass field where the children were 'playing'. 

He's about to summon a snake to bite these children's ankles when a voice interrupts him. 

"Won't you boys stop that?" 

The voice is familiar-- it's the voice of a child who's been on his mind for the past month. 

Takayanagi Kyōichirō. 

  

*** 

  

Kyōichirō sighs long-sufferingly. 

"Don't you boys have anything better to do?" He asks, swinging Miko-baa-san's walking stick that he had taken to repair over his shoulder. "It's..." He checks his pocket watch. "It's... Whatever, too early for you guys to be doing this." 

"Who the heck're you?" One of them sneers. "Don't you know who I am?" 

Kyōichirō closes his eyes briefly. He was too old for this. 

"I'm afraid not, would you mind-- actually, won't you let that boy's hair go, first?" 

"Hargh?" He scoffs, turning to his two lackeys. "He's trying to tell me what to do!" 

Were children this age all this presumptuous? Yuta and Himi were angels in comparison.  

(Unbeknownst to him, the two children were currently spreading some alarming (and untrue!) rumors about his sleeping habits.) 

"Hey, I'm the boss here," Presumptuous Child A declares to him. "So don't go givin' me orders." 

"That'll be difficult," Kyōichirō smiles. "Because we might have a problem if you don't let that boy's hair go now." 

The boy grins at him, all haughty and with the pomp and pride of a very confident toddler.  

"I don't think I will." 

"I'm sorry to hear that." 

"Wha--" 

With two sharp flicks of his wrist, the walking stick smacks the boy's wrist twice. 

"Argh!" 

Presumptuous Child A crumples to the floor, holding his quickly swelling wrist. 

"Relax," Kyōichirō walks over and rests a hand on his head. "I didn't hit you nearly hard enough to break anything." 

Presumptuous children B and C quickly back away from him and the bullied child, faces paling paper white. 

He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to the boy who was kneeling with tear tracks running down his face. 

"Here, wipe your face with this." 

"... I didn't ask for your help." 

"Of course," Kyōichirō agrees to placate him. "But take the handkerchief anyway." 

The boy takes it reluctantly. 

"Carrying a handkerchief around," He mutters. "How old are you, 80? Just bring pocket tissues..." 

Honestly, maybe he should have just let the children beat him up. 

"So," Kyōichirō leans on the boulder that they were using to hide the scene from most passers-by. "Since we've all made friends now, let's all introduce ourselves." 

Boy A snarls at him through his tears just as Bullied Child snaps at him. 

"Like hell we're...!"  

"Whose friends with who?!" 

Kyōichirō slams the metal walking stick into the boulder, and it makes a god-awful loud noise that has the children jumping out of their skins. 

Huh. 

He's having a strong sense of deja vu. 

"I wasn't a request," he tells them, calmly. "Since you don't want to begin, I will." He smiles customer service at them. "I'm Takayanagi Kyōichirō." 

"..." 

"... Alright," Kyōichirō swings the cane around again, effectively startling the children again. "Let's start with... You!" 

Boy A turns his head to the side rebelliously, still nursing his bruised wrist. 

"... Yamada Ken." 

Boy B and Boy C quickly follow. 

"Hirota Jun." 

"Watanabe Yō." 

Kyōichirō's cane (it's his cane now, he'd have to buy a new one for Miko-baa-san), lands on Bullied Child. 

"... Uchiha Inabi." 

Aah, a clan kid. 

Kyōichirō hand goes to his brow. 

Goodness, he was too old for these elementary school squabbles. 

"... Let's just start our twenty questions..." 

He had his work cut out for him. How was he meant to live his happy retirement life now? 

Notes:

Kyoichiro's ossan behavious cannot be shaken off with just one life haha

Chapter 7: does he realise he's met a lot of powerful people...?

Summary:

Kyoichiro oji-sans some more, messes with more jonin, and says seditious things!
Also, Kyoichiro's real personality has started leaking out. He wants it to stop.

Notes:

Sorry for the wait! I haven't proof-read yet, so I'll be coming back to do it later. I just thought releasing it earlier would be a bit better!

"Hey, you."

Kyōichirō closes his eyes, looks up to the heavens, and prays. (He's an atheist, who is he praying to?) 

It's been a week since he de-escalated that fight in the park, and while they didn't make friends, Kyōichirō supposes it's character development. 

"... It's Takayanagi, not 'you'." 

"..." 

"..." 

"... Takayanagi-san." 

Kyōichirō nods approvingly. If there was anything Uchiha children were taught, it was manners. 

"What is it, Uchiha-kun?"

Uchiha Inabi looks down his nose at Kyōichirō and sniffs. What a pompous brat, Kyōichirō thinks fondly. Were all Uchiha children like this? If so, Kyōichirō thinks he might just like that whole clan. 

"Kun? I'm older than you, brat. And Inabi is fine." 

"Of course, of course," Kyōichirō says placatingly. "What is it, Inabi-san?" 

Inabi looks like he's about to slap him. 

Kyōichirō thinks he should try. It would be funny, at least. 

"... I didn't ask for your help." 

"You didn't." Kyōichirō agrees. 

"Good." 

Inabi nods in approval before forcing a fancy washi-paper and bamboo box in his hands. 

"We're even now." 

"...??" 

The boy huffs and walks away. 

What an endearingly prideful child. 

Kyōichirō looks at the tag on the undoubtedly expensive box. 

It's yōkan, and scribbled in impeccable handwriting: 

'For you and your old man tastebuds.'  

"..." 

... How did he know that Kyōichirō liked yōkan? 

Was it really an old man thing to like yōkan?? 

  

*** 

  

Click . 

A hand had moved the opposing general forward. 

Shikaku looks up,  surprised at the sudden presence, and finds a familiar and positively dripping wet child sitting on the table across from him. 

A drop of water falls from the boy's kimono sleeve and lands on the outdoor table of the teahouse Shikaku was seated at. 

"You're the little kid that Inoichi's friends with." 

And the child that was talking circles around Danzo . 

"Hullo," The little boy-- Takayanagi Kyōichirō, Inoichi had told him, greets. 

Shikaku looks at him for another moment, before turning back to the board and moving a piece in response. 

"Why are you drenched like that?" 

"I was taking a swim in the river." 

"... fully clothed?" 

"Yes...?" 

Mm. Shikaku decides on the spot he doesn't want to know. 

"Missus, can I get another bowl here?" Shikaku drawls as a waitress places a cup of steaming sweet bean soup on the table. "With evaporated milk." 

"They sell dishes from other eastern countries?" Takayanagi considers. "I've only seen western-styled foreign desserts in Konoha." 

"Well, the imports have been getting better," Shikaku says, then realizes that he's talking to an 8 year old. "... You do know what imports are, right?" 

Kyōichirō nods, moving another piece. 

"I know we receive red bean imports," He says. "And we export the wood from Hashirama trees." 

"Right," Shikaku nods, eating a spoonful. "Business has been good lately, so foreign merchants have been setting up shop." 

"From further north?" 

"Yup." 

The waitress-- who is one of the foreigners they speak of, puts a bowl down in front of Kyōichirō and walks away, fast on her feet. 

"Thank you for the food," Takayanagi tells Shikaku. Shikaku doesn't think he's ever met a child so polite. Or this soaked in public. 

"Their customer service is different for sure," Shikaku tells the boy. "I think some people had some problems with it, at first." 

"Of course," Takayanagi leans over and claims his General. "Humans dislike what they are unfamiliar with." 

Shikaku looks up at the boy. 

"... How old are you again?" 

"I'm 8, Nara-dono." 

Shikaku blinks. 

"Why is Inoichi 'Inoichi-san' and while I'm 'Nara-dono'?" 

"Because you're the heir to your clan." 

Shikaku turns back to the board, taking out one of Takayanagi's pawns. 

"Isn't Inoichi also?" 

"... I don't know about that." 

"What do you mean?" 

"He has a sister, doesn't he?" 

"... Yes. A sister. Inoichi's the first son." 

Takayanagi looks at him-- at his hands, particularly, as Shikaku had abandoned the flow of the game to ask. 

"Yes, indeed," Takayanagi nods. "And she's only a chūnin." 

"Then...?" 

"I think you overestimate Inoichi-san's desire to be clan head." 

Oh. 

Shikaku presses a finger to his chin. 

"He doesn't seem to have the personality for it," Takayanagi continues. "He's not all that charismatic. His personality is overbearing, but not in the way of a leader.”  

Shikaku huffs out a small breath. 

It's laughter, he realizes after a moment-- when was the last time he'd really laughed? 

"You're right," He agrees, moving a pawn. "Here, checkmate." 

"Good game," Takayanagi responds amicably. He points to a silver general. "I started losing here about three moves ago, right?" 

"Right," Shikaku pushes the pieces back to their previous spots. "You could have escaped here, but you might have missed it." 

"Indeed," Takayanagi understands quickly. "Thank you, Nara-dono." 

"Shikaku is fine." 

"Shikaku-dono, then." 

"You were good," Shikaku tries awkwardly. "Who taught you how to play?"

"I actually don't know how to play," Takayanagi responds. "I usually play xiangqi, but Hanagaki-san taught me the rules for shogi last week, so I'm just learning as I go." 

"... That was you learning as you go after a week?" 

"Yes. I'm afraid I'm not that great of an opponent." 

"Xiangqi..." Shikaku ponders. "That's a game from a little further north." 

It was weird that a boy in a kimono who looked like they lived and breathed traditional arts played that and not shogi. 

"Hanagaki-san would be Hanagaki-oiran from Watanabe Okiya, right?" 

"Yes," Kyōichirō eats a spoonful of his red bean soup. "No-one's beat her in shogi or go yet." 

"I see." 

Shikaku contemplates that, but decides against visiting. It's too much hassle to go out of his way to meet an oiran for shogi. 

"I've got to go soon," Kyōichirō says, looking at the sun high in the sky. "... Well, maybe one more game?”  

"Sure." 

  

*** 

 

A month later, Shikaku would be invited to a large inter-clan gathering in the capital, and find himself seated across a beautiful oiran with flowers in her hair and a well-loved shogi board. 

But that is a story for another day. 

  

*** 

  

Kyōichirō didn't want to be rude, but Shimura-dono was becoming a bit of a pain in his backside. 

Kyōichirō sighs as he loses yet another one of Shimura's little ninja lackies. 

He speeds into the open gate of the Hatake clan compound, praying to high heavens that Sakumo would be home, and violently hits the doorbell. 

The ninja get closer, and Kyōichirō is getting a little annoyed. He won't be able to fight them off even if they did try something, because he's terribly out of practice and also incredibly small. 

Thmp thmp thmp  

Kyōichirō kind of wishes Sakumo would walk a little bit faster. 

The door creaks open, and a tuft of white hair. 

Sakumo appears behind the shoji door. 

"Kyōichirō-kun?" 

Kyōichirō could kiss him.  

"Sakumo-san," Kyōichirō greets, looking back. The unidentified ninja were backing away. "I'm sorry, but may I come in for a while?" 

Sakumo isn't looking at him anymore, staring hard into the thicket of forest beyond his front gate. 

"... Were you being followed, Kyōichirō-kun?" 

"..." 

"They've made a run for it, too," Sakumo continues, pressing the back of his finger to his nose. "Why...?" 

Kyōichirō shrugs. 

When Sakumo's gaze turns back to him, his eyes are filled with concern. 

"Come in," Sakumo moves to the side. "Kakashi is in the living room." 

"Thank you." 

Kyōichirō walks in, exhaustion in his bones. 

He really had no escape from shady organizations tailing him, even in this new life. 

Rolling his shoulders (he'd clambered up almost 6 buildings in his escape efforts), he hears the pop! Crack! Of his joints.  

God, he’s getting old. 

"That wasn't ANBU, was it?" Sakumo comments, locking the door behind him. "I think it was ROOT." 

"I wouldn't know," Kyōichirō answers honestly. So ROOT was what those kids were from. "I did receive a visit from Shimura Danzo-dono a while back, however." 

"From Danzo?" 

Kyōichirō nods. 

Sakumo's face tells Kyōichirō exactly what he thinks of that. 

Yeah, Kyōichirō feels so, too. 

It's also weird, however, that Sakumo is not bringing up reporting this to the Hokage. Somehow, Kyōichirō doubts the people following him are directly under the Hokage, since the two elite ninja he's met so far don't have a good opinion of ROOT, or whatever it was called. 

Kyōichirō is inclined to believe there might be some corruption in the upper ranks-- likely some favoritism, too, because having a personal, official armed forces under you in this sort of country should be a crime, and the Hokage was ignoring it. 

"I hope I'm not intruding," Kyōichirō tries politely. "I'm glad you're home." 

Sakumo runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. 

"I won't be home for long," Sakumo tells him. Dang it. "I was gonna drop Kakashi off at Gaku's and head off to a mission." 

"Oh." 

"I would walk you back to the orphanage, but I don't think you'd be safe there." 

"The orphanage is fine," Kyōichirō tells him. "There are the Hokage's masked ninja staying there. They were hired by Baa-san." 

Sakumo looks skeptical, but relents. 

"... All right," He sighs, turning into the living room. "Come on, Kakashi, we're walking Kyōichirō-kun home." 

Kyōichirō watches as Kakashi, who's lying peacefully in a pile of dogs, is picked up by the ankle, plucked from the ground like a demented radish. 

Kakashi stares at Kyōichirō from where he's hanging upside down with his dead fish eyes. 

Well, at least Kyōichirō will be safe for today. 

He's starting to think that thinking too hard about not wanting to be enrolled as military resource was an invitation for the universe to kidnap him as a military resource. 

No. 

Kyōichirō stares determinedly at his feet. 

He's going to live this retirement life peacefully, he thinks (begs). Please. 

  

*** 

  

Wandering into another alleyway, Kyōichirō thinks that he will be Very Upset if he is forced to relearn some Very Specific old skills. 

Oh dear. 

The fact that he's even considering it means he's paranoid enough now to relearn the Very Specific old skills anyway. 

Kyōichirō spirals. 

No...! How is he supposed to live his entirely unsuspicious, relaxing retirement life if he's going to have to train for assassination?!

Kyōichirō stares up into the little sliver of sky overhead, a tiny gap between two buildings. 

Aa-a. Unbidden, his true thoughts leak out from the most secluded part of his brain. 

What a fucking pain.  

Kyōichirō clicks his tongue, annoyed at his own slip of self control. No swearing. Bad, Kyōichirō, bad. 

Kyōichirō stalks out of the maze of residential buildings, silent as a mouse, and makes a u-turn back to the orphanage. 

"Ah! It's you!" 

Kyōichirō turns to find Jiraiya standing there, Minato at his side. 

He hides a clenched fist behind his back. 

Reflexes need to hush, Kyōichirō thinks, tense. 

"Kyōichirō-kun! It's been a while!" 

"... Minato-san. I've been doing well, thank you." 

"This is my teacher, Jiraiya-sensei!" Minato gestures to the man beside him. 

Jiraiya turns his nose up at him. 

Minato looks between them. 

"Do you know each other already?" 

"We became acquainted when he was committing a federal crime." 

"What??" 

Jiraiya sputters. 

"Kid! There was no crime, I'm just a super pervert!" 

Kyōichirō blinks slowly. 

"Do you see, Minato-san?" He begins. "He's a sex offender." 

"Sensei!" Minato exclaims. "Just wait till I tell Kushina!" 

"N-now, there's no need for that, is there?" 

"Isn’t Kushina-san good friends with Mikoto-san from the KPF?" Kyōichirō adds. "Mm. It sounds like a fitting punishment for sexual harassment." 

Jiraiya screams. 

"Y-you dastardly youngins!!!" He points a shaking, accusing finger at them. "Just you see! I'll write you as the villains in my next book!" 

As a villain? 

Kyōichirō smiles. 

"I'll look forward to it." 

Jiraiya falls to the ground in a fit of frustration and Minato ignores him. 

"Say, Kyōichirō-kun, what were you doing wandering out of a shady alleyway like that? You scared me!" 

Kyōichirō could tell. 

He eyes the three-pronged kunai that Minato has unsuccessfully hidden behind his back. He's glad he didn't get an eye stabbed out. 

"I was being followed by the mask ninja again, and they kept trying to grab me, so I ran." 

"What?!" 

Jiraiya jumps up. 

"You mean sensei still hasn't done anything about it?!" 

"You mean Hokage-sama?" Kyōichirō frowns. "I'm not sure if you're missing something, Jiraiya-dono, but the one trying to kidnap me at the current time is Shimura Danzo-dono." 

Jiraiya gawps. 

Minato looks between Jiraiya and Kyōichirō, jaw hanging. 

"You'll catch flies, Minato-san." 

"Ky-Kyōichirō-kun!" Minato cries, somehow more distressed than Kyōichirō himself is. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?!" 

Kyōichirō furrows his brow. 

"Weren't you out of the village?" 

"No?!" 

"Huh," Kyōichirō considers. "I was told you were." 

"What?" Jiraiya turns to Kyōichirō. "By who? He's been in the village for a whole week. I thought everyone would know, the kid's getting pretty famous." 

"I asked at the jōnin station, so--" 

Kyōichirō cuts himself off. 

Ah, he sees what's going on. 

There were moles within the actual forces, of course. In fact, where else would the branches come from if not from the main body?  The nutrients absorbed by the tree spread to become its arms, its legs, it's viridian leaves, and sometimes, to the weeds at it's feet. 

And when the gardener neglects to pulls the weeds out by the roots, they obstruct the tree from growing, sucking it dry. 

"Nevermind," Kyōichirō decides. He'd have better luck teaching pigs to fly than to try to convince military dogs that their almost-fascist government didn't only have rotting leaves, but parasites at its roots. He'd have his head lopped off. He didn't have the energy for that-- maybe next time. "I have to get going." 

He bows. 

"I'll see you soon for tea, Minato-san. Goodbye, Jiraiya-dono." 

"Wait, Kyōichirō-kun--" 

Kyōichirō rushes off before Minato can finish. 

  

*** 

 

That look... 

That was a look of distrust. 

Minato lies on his apartment couch, staring at the ceiling as if it could give him the answers to the universe. 

Had he done something that made Kyōichirō upset recently? 

He turns to his side. 

Is it because he blew off their appointment for tea last week? But that was for a mission, and Kyōichirō never seemed to mind before. It was unlikely Kyōichirō would hold something against him for something like that. 

He turns to his back again. 

Then what else was it? 

"Minato!" Kushina's sudden appearance makes Minato jump a meter out of his skin. "What's up with you, 'ttebane?" 

She jams a finger into the crease between his brows, trying to force it smooth again. 

"You've been moping around like this for the past hour, dattebane!" She scolds. "It's distracting!" 

Minato just whines and turns to face the inside of the couch, kicking his feet a little before immediately stilling. He's been trying to curb that childish habit for a while, now. 

"Kyōichirō-kun's hiding something from me," He mumbles into the cushion he's been holding to his chest in a vice grip. "I don't know what I did...!" 

He can't even see her, but he just knows she rolls her eyes at him. Mean! 

"Have you, like, considered it's nothing personal?" Kushina kicks the couch with her foot. "Not everything's about you, ya'know." 

Minato sits up. 

"Kushina, if you were there, you would have seen the distrust stamped on his forehead in huge letters!" He cries. "He definitely has something against me!" Minato's hands fly up to his hair. "What have I done?!" 

Kushina somehow rolls her eyes even harder. 

"Just because he doesn't trust you with some things doesn't mean he hates you, 'ttebane," She knocks him over the head with her spatula. "He might just--" 

Something clicks in his head, and Minato darts back up suddenly. Kushina jumps.  

"What's wrong now ?" Kushina sighs. "You're going to give me a heart attack, dattebane." 

 Minato doesn't even bother straightening his turtleneck as he heads out the door. 

What they were talking about at the time was Danzo, who was trying to kidnap Kyōichirō, and the jōnin at the jōnin station who knew Minato was in the village and didn't tell Kyōichirō. 

Kyōichirō's later inability to find Minato when he was being followed meant it would be one form of protection lost. 

Kyōichirō's a smart kid, so he definitely already figured out that the Hokage-- or rather, any of the ninja within the village would be unable or unlikely to take action against this because of the position Danzo was in. Danzo, who seems to have amassed a large number of ninja since starting ROOT (strange, because Minato knows the number of ninja who were enlisted for it was far lesser than what the reports available to the jōnin say), would likely have some pull on regular ninja. 

Moles. 

Kyōichirō might have been worried about moles within the ninja ranks-- hell, he must have considered that Minato could be one of those ninja that were reporting to Danzo. 

He arrives at the small orphanage on the outskirts of the village. 

"Good afternoon, Mitsuko-san," He greets the kind old woman who's name was in the orphanage's name. "I was wondering if Kyōichirō-kun was in?" 

Mitsuko blinks at him. 

"Oh my, what a handsome young man!" She smiles at him. "Aren't you a bit young to be looking to adopt?" 

Adopt...? 

"Oh, no!" Minato denies, waving his hands in a flustered way. "We just promised to get tea together," Not a lie, technically. "but I forgot to ask when to meet." 

Mitsuko blinks at him again. 

Ah, it is a bit weird for a grown ninja to be friends with a little kid, isn't it? 

"I promise I'm not anyone weird!" He reassures. "Kyōichirō-kun might have mentioned me? I'm Namikaze Minato." 

"Ah, Namikaze-san," She nods. "Thank you for the money you donated last time!" 

"It's really nothing!" Minato smiles. "I used to be an orphan too, so..." 

Mitsuko smiles and presses a candy into his hands. 

"Thank you anyway," She tells him warmly. "As for Kyōichirō-kun, he went out into the village, but I'm not quite sure where..." 

Huh? 

"He's always been such a mature child, you see," Mitsuko tells him. "So reliable, so we decided to give him a little bit of space. We don't really make him tell us where he goes, anymore, we just make sure he's home by curfew... Sorry we can't help you, Namikaze-san." 

Ah, Kyōichirō was that kind of child, wasn't he?

It sounds a little sad to grow up that quickly, but Minato supposes you wouldn't understand what it's like until you're in those shoes. Minato was a mature kid himself, but nothing like Kyōichirō is-- Kyōichirō is pretty much completely self-sufficient, and doesn't seek the comfort of adults like Minato did when he was young. 

"Thank you, Mitsuko-san," Minato dips his head. "I'll try and see if I can find him." 

Mitsuko smiles. 

"Have another candy." 

  

*** 

  

He finds Kyōichirō in the middle of the street, helping someone again, of course. 

Now, Minato has never actually witnessed Kyōichirō going about his errands, but he had the idea of them being cute, domestic little duties like helping the elderly do their shopping, or walking dogs, or painting fences and rescuing cats out of trees. 

A man's wagon is stuck in a wet patch of ground. 

Now, usually what would happen is a few people would gather around, and with the power of teamwork, lift the back of the wagon up with all of its cargo and push it out, then report the state of the ground to the civilian council workers of the area to arrange for repairs. 

Of course, nothing is ever really 'usual' with Kyōichirō. 

"Do you need some help, sir?" Kyōichirō asks the old wagon-puller politely. "You need some help lifting the wagon wheels, right? 

"Oh, thank you, boy," The wagon puller turns away from his distraught examination of the state of his wagon. "I actually need the wagon lifted quite high to examine the bottom, so if you could call some adults over to hel-- oh, what are you doing-- sage!" 

The man and Minato stare as Kyōichirō simply walks over to the back of the wagon, closes the latch, and lifts the wheels off the ground with one hand. 

It looks so easy for him, as well, as he casually leans down to examine the bottom of the wagon, where the wheels are connected by their wooden clasps. 

Minato thinks no child has any right to have that kind of raw strength. Honestly, with all the loose sleeves and kimono that Kyōichirō wears, it's impossible to tell how the boy is built beneath it. In fact, Minato thinks that he wouldn't be able to do what Kyōichirō just did without risking his chakra nodes by using chakra strength augmentation. 

Ninja's aren't built for raw strength, after all, they're built for stealth and agility. 

"Ah, the clasp is a bit loose," Kyōichirō puts his other hand under the ledge and hoists it up higher, careful not to let the contents of the wagon spill out. 

"..." 

The bystanders and the man stare. 

"Sir?" Kyōichirō looks over. "Should I call someone else to fix it?" 

The man seems to snap out of his stupor at being addressed. 

"A-Ah, no need!" The man scrambles over, pulling out a screw. "I'll fix it quickly. Thank you, it must be heavy." 

Minato thinks the speed of which the man had recovered was impressive. 

"It's okay," Kyōichirō shrugs, adjusting his grip on the wagon. His voice doesn't sound the least bit strained. "Take your time." 

The man is, to his credit, very quick with it, and Kyōichirō is lowering the wagon back onto solid ground (pushing it forward and out of the range of the mud first). 

"Thank you, boy," The man hands him a pouch. "I was about to deliver these to the Hokage tower, so take these as my thanks." 

Kyōichirō pushes back. 

"There's no need," He denies, pressing the pouch back into the man's hands. "I was just passing by." 

"I insist," The man pushes it back into Kyōichirō's hands again. 

"... Very well. Thank you." 

The man smiles a grandfatherly smile at him before going on his way.

Kyōichirō catches sight of him. 

"Minato-san," He calls out to him first. "Were you looking for me?" 

"Ah, I had some time, so I was wondering if you'd let me treat you to lunch," Minato recovers from his shock. "I heard you like the yōkan at Yumiya's izakaya from Orochimaru-san, so shall we go there?" 

Kyōichirō gives him a look that tells him that he can see right through his excuses to talk, but nods. 

"Alright, thank you." 

Minato smiles. 

Thank the Sage that Kyōichirō wasn't distrusting of him enough to deny him outright. 

"You're pretty strong, aren't you, Kyōichirō-kun?" Minato begins. "Are you finally training for the Acade--" 

"No." 

Minato wilts, laughing nervously. Another immediate denial...! 

"The kids at the orphanage just like being carried around," Kyōichirō explains. "Obā-san's back isn't good, so only me and some of the volunteers can do it." 

"Ah, I see!" Minato slides the door open for Kyōichirō. "That's nice of you." 

"I suppose." 

Minato cries a little inside. As usual, Kyōichirō's blunt responses don't let the conversation go anywhere... 

They get escorted to their seats, and Minato stews anxiously in the silence before Kyōichirō finally breaks it as they wipe their hands. 

"... Minato-san," Kyōichirō sighs. The sigh stabs Minato right through the chest like if Orochimaru-san sighed at him. Honestly, was Kyōichirō really younger than him?! "I know you want to talk to me about something, so feel free to ask." 

"Did I do something to you?" Minato blurts out, fretting. "I mean, I know I'm always cancelling our appointments because of missions, and I'm sorry for that all the time, but have I done anything specifically that made you mad?!" 

 Kyōichirō stares at him, and the single raised eyebrow pretty much spells his exasperation out in neon fluorescent letters. 

Please...! Answer...! The question...! That look hurts...! 

"Why do you ask?" 

"Because I think you're not trusting me with some things," Minato twiddles with his thumb. Jiraiya would set a toad on his hands to smack him if he caught him fiddling. "I want to know if I did something that makes you not trust me..." 

Kyōichirō pushes a cup of tea into Minato's hands. The twiddling stops. 

"Not really," Kyōichirō responds. "It's not really anything personal. I just don't want to say things that might get me in trouble." 

"Ah." 

Like what? 

"I have a habit of saying some pretty seditious things," Kyōichirō replies. "Not the best things to say in front of shinobi who work for the Hokage, don't you think?" 

Oh. 

"I won't report you if you say those sorts of things," Minato pledges on the spot. "I'm pretty sure it's not illegal, anyway, just disrespectful." 

Kyōichirō seems to examine him for a moment, deep eyes boring into Minato in their usual, unsettling way, and then responds. 

"Thank you," Kyōichirō takes a sip of his tea. "I think our current Hokage should abdicate due to current conditions of bias and corruption within the system. In fact, the system that puts a single person of the system's choosing in complete power is unfavourable to the masses." 

Minato's eyes blow wide and he whips his head around to make sure no one's listening. 

Thankfully, Kyōichirō doesn't talk loudly, and there's no one seated nearby. 

When he turns back to Kyōichirō, he's still alarmed. 

Kyōichirō just smiles at him. 

"Do you see why I couldn't say this in front of Jiraiya-dono?" 

".... Yeah." 

Kyōichirō puts down the menu, pointing at something. 

"Can I have the curry udon?" 

The way Kyōichirō jerks him around in their conversations made Minato exhausted every single time. 

"Of course," Minato calls the waitress over, places their order, and makes sure she's gone before turning back to Kyōichirō. "Do you not like Sandaime-sama?" 

"I haven't met the man, so I wouldn't know," Kyōichirō begins. "But it's impossible not to let outside information shape my perception of him. I have a bias, now." 

"Outside information?" 

"People's opinions about Shimura Danzo-dono and actual information about Shimura-dono," Kyōichirō tells him. "No matter how I look at it, what Sandaime-sama has done is let Shimura-dono create a private military within the village." 

"But he's using those forces to protect the village," Minato responds, frowning. "It'll be disbanded as soon as the war ends." 

Kyōichirō looks at him, then cocks his head to the side, like he's considering his own wording. 

"Power is something you can give to man, not something that is taken from him." 

Minato shudders. 

"Sandaime-sama has given him an army," Kyōichirō continues. "And then, Sandaime-sama gave him the power to override all of the leaf's values and principles for the sake of warfare. His power grows and grows. Now, we see it affecting not only shinobi circles," Kyōichirō rests a hand on the table. "His power grows more as he dips his hands in civilian affairs. Involvement in civilian affairs-- civilian council politics, specifically, means more influence, beer ability to create positive opinions, more power ." 

"But..." Minato can't even refute. 

"Danzo has power over Sandaime," Kyōichirō says. "This, we can't deny. Physical strength aside, emotional power is also power, and the Sandaime, whose kindness I respect, especially in wartime, is too soft." 

Kyōichirō shrugs. 

"Of course, no ruler will be perfect," Kyōichirō amends. "I just have this opinion because it's inconveniencing me specifically. If I wasn't caught up in it, I would say it's a very solid system that the Sandaime has here. The people love him, he isn't drunk off of his power, and he's objectively a very good Hokage if we set aside his relationship with his advisors." 

The fact that Kyōichirō, as an 8-year-old, is able to have such a mature perspective on this situation is awe-inspiring in itself. 

"You're not wrong," Minato admits. "Jiraiya-sensei has actually been against Danzo's presence in the board of advisors for a very long time though, so I don't think you need to worry too much about him." 

"I see," Kyōichirō nods. "I suspect the only people that know anything about Shimura-dono are people who are deeply involved in Sandaime-sama's political circle." 

Meaning: The shinobi clan heads, not the civilian representatives who speak for the majority of the village. 

Minato looks over at the waitress and thanks her as she sets the food on the table. 

Kyōichirō says his thanks over the food and begins to eat. 

Looking at his own bowl, Minato finds he's lost his appetite. 

Danzo is targeting the vulnerable, as a ninja does. But in this case, it's the children of the village, those who have no protection, the orphans. 

If this was ten years ago, the one targeted would have been Minato. It could have been him, or his dear friends from the orphanage. 

He could already see how it would happen. In that huge Konoha Orphanage, it would be difficult to notice if a single child went missing overnight. 

Then, another would go the next week. Then another, and another. 

He presses his hand over his mouth. 

He feels sick. 

"..." 

Then, the tops of a pair of chopsticks tap the table in front of his bowl. 

"Minato-san," Kyōichirō's voice is low, smooth, gentle. "Are you alright?" 

"Ah, yes!" Minato Picks up his chopsticks, hoping the smile on his face isn't too strained. "Of course, sorry for worrying you!" 

Kyōichirō's flat look of distrust is another arrow straight through his stomach. 

What kind of jōnin was he if he couldn't even lie convincingly enough to an 8-year-old? 

"Minato-san," Kyōichirō begins again, his tone careful. "I'm sorry for ruining your appetite with my chattering, after you went all this way to invite me to a meal." 

"No, it's--" 

"Just forget it if it's troubling you, I didn't intend to add onto your mental burden." 

"..." 

Kyōichirō sighs, brushing a hand through his inky black hair. It's an action that looks too grown-up to be suitable for his little body. 

"Words can't be taken back or forgotten easily," Kyōichirō says, all of a sudden. "But, wilful ignorance is not always bad or ineffective." 

Kyōichirō seems to nod at his own words, and turns back to his meal. 

Minato dwells on that for a moment. 

Well, he supposes Kyōichirō is right. 

He'll think about it later. 

"... So, Kyōichirō-kun," Minato smiles. "Have you seen Kakashi recently? He's gotten so much bigger!" 

Kyōichirō returns his positivity, letting the small tug at the corner of his lips be. 

"You're right," He agrees. "It's getting harder to pick him up." 

Minato laughs nervously. 

"Well, with your strength I'd be more scared of you breaking his bones, still!" 

"You exaggerate." 

Minato's really, really, not, because he swears up and down he saw dents on the wagon from earlier. 

"Whatever you say..." 

Notes:

I'm trying to hint-hint at my AU/headcannon thing for Shikamaru's birth, but it will be clarified!!! Also, Inoichi as a clan head never really sat with me because I feel like he wouldn't like doing that sort of stuff. The man just wants to be a florist, let him water flowers.

Chapter 8: Ninja puzzle-solving is fun (not)

Summary:

Kyōichirō does things. A lot of things. Including solving ninja puzzles and stopping a kidnapping.

Oh, and the three (four, now) stooges from his high school teaching days gossip, as teenagers do.

Kyōichirō wishes his life were just a little more peaceful.

Notes:

... Hi.

Sorry for the wait! I have been getting my butt kicked by life.
TW for swearing, I guess?
This chapter is very chunky, sorry!
As always, no beta, so please point out any mistakes/inconsistencies and ill fix them asap!

The ROOT ninja stop trying anything with him after he runs into Minato.

It's not that they stop following him, they just seem to stop having any ideas about kidnapping him.

Kyōichirō doesn't ask, but he thinks that Minato might be someone who the other ninja are terrified of. Maybe the young man was secretly practicing power-harassment in the jōnin centre.

Kyōichirō shudders.

Well, he won't be Minato's subordinate or co-worker anytime soon, so it wasn't his problem, he supposes.

Kyōichirō passes 2 birthdays peacefully.

The peace doesn't last.

 

***

July, 2016

"Taka-Taka-pyon has been the faculty advisor for every club at this point," Mirin drawls, flopping over the desk. "He's good at everything."

Yukie Naoto blinks.

"Taka-Kyō-chan-sensei isn't human, so don't judge him by your human standards," Jiro snaps at her. His tone suggests he actually believes that Takayanagi isn't made from the same stuff as they all are. "I'd bet my left nut that he's actually an alien."

"No-one wants your left nut, don't worry."

... Hasn't Takayanagi's nickname been getting longer, recently?

He swears he heard 'Taka-Taka-Kyō-tan-sensei' in the hallway this morning.

"Uhm," Takamine stutters, as per usual. "Taka-chan-sensei hasn't been the guide for the Kyūdo club, yet."

Naoto almost misses the disbelieving look that Jiro sends Takamine as he talks.

"Ah," Mirin sits up, but ends up resting her face on her hand. "Taka-Taka-Kyō-pyon doesn't ever teach for Kyūdo. He says he'll never touch the bow again for as long as he lives."

Seriously, stop with the nickname.

"I heard from an alumnus that Takayanagi used to co-supervise the Kyūdo club with another teacher," Naoto comments. "... You know how there was a teacher who committed suicide at this school a while back?"

"I think I heard about it," Jiro begins. "The female teacher who taught ethics before Taka-Kyō, right?"

"Right, it was her. She used to watch the Kyūdo club a few years back." Naoto responds, swallowing the saliva in his mouth. He looks out the windows and lies. "I've never met her, though."

Mirin looks at him, all long-lashes and doll-like black contacts, and Yukie feels terribly exposed.

"I heard she used to be a famous university professor," Jiro mentions.

"Why would she switch over to a trashy public high school from a university?"

"Maybe the college was just as trashy."

"Let's ask Taka-chan-sensei next time," Takamine smiles. "I'm not sure he'll answer properly, though."

Yukie nods hesitantly.

He doesn't want to.

He already knows.

The name on the gravestone would never leave his memory.

In loving memory of Yukie Imu.

 

***

 

"Hey, Kyōichirō-kun!" Minato holds out a box of manju. "It's our 5-year anniversary!"

Also, the 5th year of war.

(Minato was turning 18, soon.)

"Minato-san," Kyōichirō gets up from his picnic mat. "just the man I wanted to see."

Minato blinks, the squints.

Kyōichirō is never glad to see him. He always makes his dead Tibetan Fox face at him and tolerates his presence.

(Ah, so you are self-aware, Kyōichirō would say if he found out he knew what he was thinking.)

"... What is it?"

Kyōichirō gives him a strange look, then looks at the box.

"You bought manju?"

"Yes?"

"Let's eat the manju first, then."

No! Minato feels like crying. Why does Kyōichirō always say things that make him nervous and then brush it off like it's nothing?!

"I want anko."

"Yes, yes," Minato sighs, and hands him one.

"Thank you. I brought tea."

Minato helps himself, pouring a cup for himself (Kyōichirō bought him his own yellow mug a while back, isn't that adorable?).

"It's a strange color, today," Minato says. The tea isn't clear-- and it's murky, opaque. "What did you put in it?"

"Milk. It's milk tea."

"You added milk to tea?" Minato whispers, horrified.

"And sugar."

Minato blinks, takes a deep breath, and then has a sip.

"!!!"

"It's good, isn't it?"

Minato is having a sense of Deja vu.

It's really been five years, huh...

"So?" He begins, swirling the tea around in his cup. "What did you want to see me for?"

Kyōichirō turns to him, blinking slowly.

Why does the child always look so sleepy?

"... Do I really need a reason to want to see you?" Kyōichirō intones.

Minato has never felt so emotional. Is this what it was like to have a son?

"Kyōichirō-kun...!" He places a hand on his mouth. He knew the boy had some affection for him!

"But you're right," Kyōichirō says, effectively stomping on all of his hopes and dreams. "I do need something from you today."

Minato wilts.

"I was asking around a couple of days ago, about what your epithet was about..."

Minato's hands fly to his face, trying and failing to hide his redness.

"Kyōichirō...!" He whines. "I don't want to talk about it!"

How embarrassing! Minato would be hunting down every ninja that let Kyōichirō gossip with them!

He can already hear Kushina laughing at him.

"Apparently, you're one of the only ninja in history that are able to teleport, is that true?"

Minato takes a deep breath, looking to the sky for patience.

"... No."

Kyōichirō blinks.

"It only worked a few times, on the field," Minato explains. "It hasn't been completed, yet. I can't make it work at will."

Kyōichirō nods, then turns back to look at the training ground stretched out in front of them.

"It's what you were working on when we first met."

"Yeah."

Kyōichirō makes them stew in the silence for a moment, listening to the trees rustle and the grass dance.

"Can you let me take a look?"

"Huh?" Minato says, very intelligently.

"At what you're working on. It's seal work, right? I heard it's like puzzle-solving."

"Oh," Minato blinks. Kyōichirō never had any interest in ninja stuff! "Here you go!"

Minato pulls out his storage scroll labeled 'Hiraishin stuff' and hands it to Kyōichirō.

Actually, he's pretty sure there's some sort of procedure about not giving ninja stuff to civilians, but Kyōichirō being interested in any part of ninja life happens once in a blue moon! So screw protocols.

(He can feel the paper ninja giving him the stink eye from where they were at the Chūnin station.)

From the scroll, he pulls out three other scrolls and his trademark three-pronged kunai.

"This scroll is the stuff that the Hiraishin pulls from shunshin," Minato tells Kyōichirō. "You know what that is, right?"

"I do."

"And this second scroll is all the time-space pizazz that even I barely understand. The third scroll is the original time-space manual that I got from the toad sages," Minato scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "I actually got a lot of help with all of this from Orochimaru-sama, so..."

Kyōichirō pauses mid-chew of his manju.

"You're close with Orochimaru-dono?"

Minato twiddles his fingers bashfully. Kyōichirō makes a face like he wants to smack his hands, so he stops. Honestly, Kyōichirō acted just a little too much like Fukasaku-sama. It was unnerving.

(Fukasaku-sama would have actually slapped him, though.)

"Does it seem that way?" Minato grins. "No. I think he just sort of, uhm..."

Minato startles.

There's a new presence in his sensory radius.

Oh, god, was it one of those ROOT ninja trying to kidnap Kyōichirō again?!

After Minato tracked them down they hadn't done anything in ages...

"I barely tolerate you, child."

Ah, so it was Orochimaru-sama.

"Orochimaru-sama!" Minato exclaims.

"Don't yell like you're surprised if you could sense me from a mile away, Minato," The man clicks his tongue, rapping on the top of Minato's head with his knuckles. It hurts, but from Orochimaru, it's a love-tap. "It's unbecoming."

Kyōichirō dips his head.

"Orochimaru-dono."

The man huffs.

"Working on Minato's Hiraishin, are you?"

"Orochimaru-sama," Minato blinks. "I always seem to bump into you here."

"This is Orochimaru-dono's usual training ground, Minato-san," Kyōichirō tells him. "Have you not noticed?"

Well, it's true that Minato doesn't use this training ground often. It's far from his apartment, and he only comes here when something is prone to causing a large explosion.

Orochimaru raises an eyebrow.

"Enough about what Minato doesn't know," Orochimaru says, and Minato pouts. "Can I have a cup of tea, Kyōichirō."

Wordlessly, Kyōichirō rummages through his picnic basket (is it him imagination, or is that twice as large as the one he first saw) and pulls out a purple mug.

!!!

Minato wasn't the only one with a personal cup?!

"Why do you react like Kyōichirō's cheating on you," A new voice sighs. "Hey Kyō-kun. Say hi, Kakashi."

"Hi, Kyō-nii."

"Sakumo-san!"

Orochimaru gives him a look again.

Minato puffs out his cheeks. He was actually surprised this time!

(Not something to brag about, either.)

Sakumo sits himself right between Orochimaru and Minato, and little 3-year old Kakashi goes to lie in Kyōichirō's lap.

Kyōichirō pulls out a gray cup for Sakumo, and pokes Kakashi in the cheek rather harshly, in Minato's opinion.

So Minato isn't special...?! How mean, Kyōichirō-kun!

"Have you gone over this with Jiraiya yet?" Orochimaru asks as Sakumo peers over Orochimaru's shoulder. Orochimaru makes a face like he's contemplating smacking him in the face. "That idiot couldn't help you?"

"Uh," Minato begins, because he thinks Sakumo's two eyeballs are in danger with how Orochimaru looks like he wants to stab him with his nails. "Yeah, but he couldn't help. Kushina knew more, so I asked her, but we haven't gotten very far either."

"Hmm," Kyōichirō hums. "There's a lot of Kanji in here."

"Yeah..."

"Can you read it, Kyōichirō?" Orochimaru asks. "I had the impression you didn't have any schooling."

"I can read it," Kyōichirō responds. "I read a lot."

Yeah, Minato agrees. He does read a lot. It's just most of his books are about suicide.

"--majored in Japanese literature..." Minato thinks he hears Kyōichirō mutter under his breath.

"What?"

"What?"

Minato blinks.

Kyōichirō blinks back.

"Did you say something?"

"No," Kyōichirō responds, but the look that Sakumo throws at him says that Kyōichirō most certainly did say something.

"Hey, Kyō," A new voice enters the fray. "You've got quite the crowd here, huh?"

"Shikaku," Sakumo greets. "Inoichi!"

"Hey, Sakumo-san," Inoichi greets. "Shikaku was out looking for Kyōichirō to play shōgi, so I took him here, hope you don't mind, Kyō."

"So this is your usual haunt, Kyōichirō?" Shikaku asks, sitting down, putting down the heavy shōgi table he was holding to his side. "It's quite away from the center of the village."

Kyōichirō blinks slowly, then gets up.

"Huh?" Minato says, eloquently. "Kyōichirō? Where are you going?"

The boy doesn't respond, just leaving them all and walking off in the direction of the business district.

"He'll be back," Orochimaru mutters, still examining the scrolls. "He's left all his things here, after all."

"... do you think he got creeped out by our old men smell?" Inoichi asks.

"What the heck is 'old men smell'?"

"The only old ones here are Orochimaru-sama and dad," Little Kakashi says, staring into the sky. Minato forgot he was there, for a moment.

"Who are you calling old, you little--" Sakumo grabs Kakashi but the scruff of his collar and noogies him playfully. "I've been too nice to you, eh?"

Minato sighs.

He just hopes Kyōichirō doesn't get into any trouble while he's gone.

 

***

 

‘What are the people at the orphanage feeding their kids?’

Fugaku watches as freshly-turned 10-year-old Takayanagi Kyōichirō single-handedly pulls a very large man out of a muddy ditch.

He doesn't even look like he's struggling-- the kid looks as much like a dead-fish as he always does, nonchalantly finishing the job in a single solid heave of his arm.

"Thank you!" The man wails. "I thought I would be stuck in there for ages!"

Takayanagi reaches for the man's shoulder, as if to pat it, but retracts his hand.

Well, the man was covered in soil and probably manure, considering how many farmers use this dirt road.

"It's no problem," His dead-fish face softens minutely. "Please be careful in the future."

He's about to turn away and head to the next district, but Takayanagi looks up, and they make eye-contact.

Creepy little kid.

Fugaku finds he doesn't hate him, though.

He supposes he's been around so many little Uchiha geniuses that it's become like exposure therapy to creepy little children that stare into your soul.

(Except when it came to little Takayanagi Kyōichirō, it was less him staring into your soul and more him forcing you to try and find if he even has one)

"Fugaku-dono," Takayanagi greets, walking up to him and making pleasant conversation. "Are you on patrol?"

"...Yes."

"I see," Takayanagi blinks. Fugaku wants to bet that there is either not a single thought in that head or that Takayanagi’s deliberating so much that it looks likes he's not thinking. There are no in-betweens. "..."

"..."

Oh, Amaterasu, he wishes the kid would just spit it out already.

"There will be a trade-off happening in Asa-gao, red-light district, 20:00, tonight," Takayanagi says so suddenly Fugaku wonders if the story genre has changed to horror, because he jumps a meter out of his skin. "Opium."

Then, the little shit pats him on the arm (because that's all he can reach, funnily enough) and goes on his merry way.

Fugaku wonders if he's going to have to track down that kid later and give him a lesson on 'why you shouldn't creep around criminals in the red-light district and find out where they're selling drugs'.

...

Now that he's thinking about it, hasn't another officer already done that?

Really, that kid. In one ear and out the other.

"Fugaku," He recognizes Mikoto's voice and turns around. "We're rotating."

"Ah," He says, very eloquently. "Got it."

"Is something wrong?"

"Just found out about some drug circulation in the red light district," He says. "20:00, Asa-gao."

"What is it?"

"Opium."

"Got it, I'll be there."

Fugaku nods, very conscious of how stiff his neck was, all of a sudden.

"See you then."

The woman smiles, gentle and unlike an Uchiha woman in every way, and leaves.

Only when she turns around the corner does Fugaku fall into a crouch on the ground, covering his face with his hands.

Why was she so pretty...?!

"Fufu," The old lady at the textiles store huffs. "That bad, eh, bocchan?"

Fugaku gets back up, grumbling into his shirt sleeve.

"Careful now, Fugaku-bō," another vendor laughs. "With that age difference, you'll get called a predator!"

He sends the vendor a venomous glare.

Honestly, the terrible thing about moving about a village all the time is that everyone knows your business.

"Actually, wasn't Mikoto-chan set to be wed to the daimyō?"

What.

"Oh, poor thing!" The old lady responds. "The daimyō..."

"Stinkin' old man pushing 60, yeah," Another vendor snarks. "He should drop dead and let his son take over, already."

"Haru!"

"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking!"

"Still...!"

"We wouldn't be having this damn war if it wasn't for the daimyō, anyway."

Right, even though the daimyō had mobilized them claiming that Iwa was trying to take over their land, everyone knew it was because the daimyo had killed his concubine from the Tsuchikage's direct family line.

"Why do we always have to clean up after his mess?!" Haru kicks the back of her stall table. "He blamed the Hokage for the inflation of our last economic period too!"

"Do you think Mikado-sama knows he's a piece of shit?" The vendor drawls. "As far as I know, the daimyo hasn't accomplished a single darn thing."

"Well," the old lady relents. "It's not like we can do anything about it."

And they all return to work.

Fugaku walks forward to the next district with a heavy heart.

 

***

 

Scars are appearing on Kyōichirō's hands.

They're not new wounds.

He wrings out his hands, uncomfortable.

It's too exposed.

His finger (there-not-there--) tingles.

"Are these for sale?"

The shopkeeper looks at him, and nods.

"50 ryo."

Kyōichirō places the money on the counter, trying his utmost to conceal the scarring on his hands, and takes the gloves.

He'd grow out of them soon, with this prepubescent body, but it doesn't matter. If they were shown, it'd be far too suspicious.

Kyōichirō wonders if they sell gloves that just look like skin.

When he arrives at the next stall, he picks up a stack of paper cups. He'd get them some proper mugs next time.

He leaves after paying the worker.

It's still uncomfortable.

His clenches and unclenches his hands through the thick leather gloves.

He'll need to find some thinner ones.

Imu (don't think don't think don't think) had bandaged his fingers, way back then. And after Imu, there had been Vicente. And then Kyōichirō had sourced some realistic skin-like gloves, and that had been it.

But there would be no one to cover for his scars, here. No Imu, and no Vicente.

He wrings out his hands again, his shopping held under his arm.

He hates this feeling.

It's uncomfortable.

"Kyō-nii?"

Kyōichirō turns, and sees Yūta, helping out at the manju place.

"Yūta," He greets. "Do you need something?"

"I think I'll be home later, so can you pick up some onions on the way home?"

"Understood. Anything else?"

"No."

"I'll buy some of that cup ramen you like on the way back, then."

Yūta blinks at him, then smiles.

"Thanks, Kyō-nii."

Kyōichirō doesn't know how to respond to being thanked. He never has.

"... No problem."

Yūta smiles and waves him away, turning back to help in the kitchen.

Kyōichirō finds himself pausing there, for a moment.

Warmth pulses in his chest.

Ah. He really should stop getting attached to children. He needed to retire from that sort of thing.

"Kyō-kun?"

"Minato-san."

"You were taking a while, so I got worried," The young man scratches the back of his hand sheepishly. "Do you need help holding anything?"

"It's okay," Kyōichirō smiles, walking up to him. "Shall we go back?"

Kyōichirō jumps out of his skin hen Minato lifts him up by his armpits and sits him on his shoulders, and grasps Minato's spiky dandelion hair on reflex.

"O-ow, Kyō-kun...!" Minato cries. "Easy, easy!"

"S-" When was the last time Kyōichirō stuttered like this? His heart his thundering in his ears. "Sorry. You almost gave me a heart attack."

"... I didn't think it'd scare you that much," Minato apologizes. "Sorry. Also, sorry in advance for this!"

"?!"

Minato leaps onto the rooftops, and Kyōichirō almost tears his hair out.

"Kyō-kun! Easy on the hair!"

"Can't you walk on the roads like a normal person?" Kyōichirō asks, finally feeling himself calm down as they soared through the air. "... Don't you get complaints from the residents when you do this? I imagine they can hear your feet on their rooftops. Not to mention the falling roof tiles."

"Awh!" Minato whines, leaping off yet another rooftop. "How do you collect yourself so quickly? I never get to see you get surprised!"

Kyōichirō blinks, relaxing his hold on Minato's neck.

Oh, how easy it would be to strangle him now.

"I'll have you know that ninja are very light-footed!" Minato continues. "The residents don't hear a thing and no rooftops are being damaged."

"Yes, yes..."

"Don't talk to me like you talk to a baby!"

Kyōichirō doesn't roll his eyes.

He doesn't.

 

***

 

"I'm telling you you're wrong!"

"You dim-witted---!"

It's chaos.

"Minato-san," Kyōichirō begins. "I think I might have made a blunder to tell you to take out your puzzle work."

"Uh-huh..." Minato thinks he can never get used to Kyōichirō's way of talking, but he soldiers on. "Orochimaru-sama...?"

"Minato!" The man whips his head towards them in a fit of rage. "You are an absolute, bumbling fool!"

Shikaku crosses his arms, nose high. The table is flipped upside-down in front of him.

"We can agree on one thing, at least."

"I'm sorry???"

Kyōichirō sighs as the adults start fighting again (he's also an adult, what is he talking about?) and sits himself next to Sakumo, who is talking to Inoichi.

"--clearly a hexagram from--"

"--should be consulting the temple--"

"I've already--"

Noisy.

Kyōichirō picks up one of the scrolls, barely saving it from being trampled by Minato's foot, and unfurls it.

This would be the last scroll. He'd looked at the other ones earlier.

"--the toad sages don’t know but--"

"The toad sages don't know shit!"

"You take that back!"

"I hate to agree with this idiot, Minato, but I must agree, we should consult the snake sage--"

"You shut up!"

That's... That's a weird assortment of kanji on this paper.

Kyōichirō squints at it.

Ah.

Ah.

It wasn't Japanese at all.

It was Chinese-- not just that-- these traditional characters and ancient letters-- he was pretty sure it was supposed to be read in Cantonese.

He scrunches his nose. Kyōichirō may not be completely literate in Cantonese, but he can understand this much. It overlaps a little with Mandarin Chinese, after all.

Hoiyong would never let him hear the end of it if he didn't. Honestly, he wonders who the teacher really was back then. He gets the feeling he was taught more by Hoiyong than vice-versa. It was the same with Winghei teaching him xiangqi, too..

... He hasn't played xiangqi in a while. He was out of practice. If Winghei saw him now, he would be skewered to death.

(Kyōichirō would win, of course, but it would not be a pleasant fight.)

But this scroll-- wasn't it just poetry?

'靜夜思、
床前明月光...'

"…?"

He doesn't read the rest.

Wasn't this poem awfully familiar? He thinks he's heard it recited before.

He looks at the three arguing adults to his right.

It might be better to let them figure it out themselves. There was a China-like country, after all. Minato would figure it out eventually. But--

A pin-prickle sensation at his temple, and he lashes back on instinct-- then, a burning, searing pain.

He whips around, cold sweat building at his neck, hair standing on end.

It's the Yamanaka clan's mind technique.

Inoichi had just aimed it at him.

"... Inoichi-san," He begins. The man stares at him with saucer-wide eyes. "Could you refrain from doing that?"

Dangerous. This was dangerous.

"Right," Inoichi responds, almost robotically. "Sorry."

"Kyōichirō figured something out," Shikaku cuts in, ignoring the annoyed exclamations from Orochimaru and Minato as he deviates from their argument. "What is it? What did you figure out?"

"I..."

His head hurts.

Really, everything is so noisy.

He picks up the scroll, and shows it to them.

"This scroll is the original teleportation 'manual' that the toad sage gave you, right?"

"Yeah, the kanji--"

"None of those kanji exist!"

"Yes they do!"

"No they don't!"

"Yes they do!"

"Nuh-uh!" Shikaku retorts, rather childishly.

"What do you mean, 'nuh-uh'?" Minato's hysterical at this point. "They date from hundreds of years back!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"I'll have to agree with Shikaku, Minato," Orochimaru says, eyeing Shikaku tiredly. "There's no proof--"

"No proof?! Just look at that paper! It's literally falling apart!"

"That's not proof of anything!"

"I respect you and all, Shikaku-san, but---!"

"Would you all be quiet for a moment?"

He hears Minato and Shikaku's teeth clack shut, and Orochimaru eyes him cautiously from where he's seated. Inoichi looks somehow more shocked than before, and both Sakumo and Kakashi are staring at him, eyes wide.

He'd put a little too much force into that.

When was the last time he lost his temper like this? He thinks it must have been when he was still teaching.

"Don't you think you're too old to squabble like academy students?" It comes out of his mouth before he can really think about it. "You're noisy."

Minato hangs his head in shame, and Shikaku looks properly chastised.

Orochimaru winces.

He tilts his head to the side.

"It's not something inherently bad to be noisy," He amends. "I don't mind you arguing, either. But if you're going to be distracting, do it somewhere away from here. I don't appreciate it."

He chooses his words carefully, every syllable intricately formal and polite.

"The problem is that you're not only noisy, but none of you have moved through with the actual topic of conversation, nor have you actually made any progress.," He barely stops himself from tacking an insult onto the back of that sentence. "I must admit, it takes a special kind of obnoxiousness to be both loud and wrong. I'm impressed."

Minato reacts to each word like a physical attack, and Shikaku seems to find the ground very interesting all of a sudden. Orochimaru sips his tea as if he wasn't just as immature. Well, he hadn't been yelling-- Kyōichirō would give him that.

He puts down the scroll.

"Why are you standing?" He asks. "It's not as if you're being punished."

He sees Sakumo wince from the corner of his eye. Kakashi has covered his mouth in a very suspicious sort of way.

That child. He really finds this funny, huh?

Minato and Shikaku sit down immediately-- on their knees, with their hands in front of them.

"… Did you figure something out, Kyō-kun?" Sakumo asks, hesitating for a moment. "I think I heard Shikaku say something about that, earlier."

"I did."

"Will you share?"

Kyōichirō eyes the three arguers again. Minato flinches.

"… I'm not sure," He decides, out of spite. "Maybe if I feel like it."

"Kyō-kun…!" Minato cries, falling forwards and startling him. "Please, I'm begging you!"

"Pfft-- ahem. Isn't dogeza a little excessive?" He hears Kakashi whisper to his dad.

"Dunno," His dad responds. "Minato's always been the sort of desperate type."

"That's pathetic."

"Kakashi!" Sakumo reprimands as if he didn't say something equally offensive.

Kyōichirō sees where Kakashi gets it from.

Orochimaru and Shikaku pin him down with their piercing gazes.

"… Minato, get some paper ready," Fine. Kyōichirō will help them. "I'll translate it for you, so pay attention."

"Wait, translate it?" Shikaku blurts, and blinks a few times rapidly when all eyes turn to him. "You mean it's not Japanese?"

"No?" Kyōichirō squints at him. "Isn't it obvious? We were talking about Northern trade, last time…"

"It's Northern?!" Minato exclaims, then slaps his hand over his mouth. "… Sorry."

"Mm," Kyōichirō considers for a moment. "… It's a language called Cantonese."

"Isn't that a dialect…"

Kyōichirō smiles. He can hear Winghei starting his rant from all the way back on earth.

"It's actually older than the standard language, if I'm not mistaken," Kyōichirō says. "But I digress. I'll translate it, so pay attention."

"Where did you even learn a Northern language?" Inoichi starts, bewildered. "You've never received any schooling!"

"That's a secret," Kyōichirō places a finger to his lips. "Could you please stop distracting me?"

"You know," Kakashi begins, to his father. "I feel like every new information drop we get from Kyō-nii is like finally getting the sequel to a good novel."

"People's lives aren't entertainment for you, Kakashi."

"Don't talk like you don't think the same way. Getting anything from Kyō-nii is like pulling teeth."

"… Fine."

"Wait," Minato scrambles for his notebook. "Do you think you could read it out loud in the original language first?"

Kyōichirō scrunches his nose. He'd really rather not. Just because he could read it well didn't mean his pronunciation was good.

"What would you get from that?" Kyōichirō asks.

"Tonal nuances," Minato answers immediately. "Please~"

Kyōichirō closes his eyes and counts to ten.

Buddha, Yeshua, Sage, whoever's there, please grant him patience.

(Not strength. He doesn't think he'd be all that responsible with it. The first victim would be Minato's hair. Baldness.)

"… Understood," Kyōichirō says, and he wants to poke Minato's sparkling eyes right out of his skull, all of a sudden.

He blinks again.

Patience, Kyōichirō, patience.

Control your thoughts. Violence is not the answer.

"I won't lie to you, Minato-san," Kyōichirō says. "I don’t think it's going to help you the way you think it's going to, even translated. It seems to be about the motive rather than the how."

“That’s fine!”

"I'll only read it once, I'm serious, Minato-san."

"Yes sir!"

Kyōichirō takes a deep breath, and reads.

"靜夜思、
床前明月光、
疑是地上霜。
舉頭望明月、
低頭思故鄉。"

He makes sure each intonation is slow-- and it helps maintain his pronunciation.

"I'll begin the translated version now."

"静かな夜の悩み、
床の前にの月の光、
地面に霜があるかもしれん。
頭を上げて、眩しい月を眺めて、
頭を下げて、故郷を回想する。"(1)

"…" Inoichi looks at Minato. "I think Kyōichirō was right. It is sorta useless."

It falls on deaf ears.

Kyōichirō watches the three men put their heads together as they all mutter furiously.

Ah.

"The moon," Kyōichirō says out loud. "And the home town."

"Ah!" Sakumo clicks his fingers. "There were seals from Uzushio that absorb chakra from the moon to operate!"

"If what I understand about the moon's movement is right," Kakashi says, in his little baby three-almost-four-year-old voice. "Then the moonlight would be strongest in the full moon in Uzushiogakure, too."

"No," Kyōichirō mutters. "Uzushiogakure would certainly have good moonlight at night, but to get the closest, we would have to go far north…"

"It'd be Sora-ku of the Northern countries," Shikaku finishes. "Bingo, Kyōichirō."

"It must have been the writer's home town," Minato says. "That's why the moon reminded him of it."

"What about the frost?" Orochimaru begins. "From what I know, snow doesn't seem to be a regular occurrence in Sora-ku."

"No," Sakumo considers, patting Kakashi's spiky hair. "It snows, but…"

"Only once every 3 years," Kakashi recites, something he'd likely read out of a textbook. "And it should be--"

"This year," Shikaku and Kyōichirō say in unison.

"I'll never understand geniuses," Inoichi grumbles to no one in particular.

"What a coincidence," Orochimaru smiles a rare smile. "Good for you, Minato."

"You're just happy because you get to hold this over Jiraiya's head, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Orochimaru crosses his arms. "I would, if it were my thought, but obviously, it was Kyōichirō's help that got us here."

"… He didn't say he wouldn't hold this over Jiraiya-sama's head, did he?" Kakashi says.

His dad shushes him.

"Let the man have his fun."

"I guess Kyōichirō gets to hold this over Jiraiya-sama's head, then!" Shikaku grins a lazy, lopsided grin. He doesn't think he's ever seen Shikaku this happy before. "Congrats, Kyō."

Kyōichirō blinks at him.

"It could have been any other translator," He says, and then picks his novel back up. "Since I've solved the noise problem, I'm going to go back to reading now."

"Really, this child…" Orochimaru sighs.

"Play some shōgi with me, first," Shikaku says.

"No, Kyō-nii's going to be my pillow."

"He can be your pillow while playing shōgi!"

"Kyōichirō isn't an object, you guys…"

"Let them bicker, Inoichi, Sakumo snickers. "It's funny."

"Kyōichirō-kun was hanging out with me first!" Minato whines. "I get first dibs!"

"Children," Orochimaru amends. "Really, these children."

Sakumo shrugs as Inoichi downs his cup of tea like a shot.

"Never a dull day around Kyōichirō, eh?"

 

***

 

When Kyōichirō returns to the orphanage, done with his errands, he knows that something is wrong.

It's quiet.

No, not exactly quiet, it's as noisy as always, with children all over the place, but somethings off.

Someone's missing.

Kyōichirō's eyes dart around the living area.

Minami.

Rai.

Hibari.

Shō.

Rōgi.

Kiki.

Mana.

Rika.

Yūta-- ah.

Yūta's not here.

The boy was still there a moment ago.

Yūta was a sensible child. It was late, it wasn't like he'd wander off in the middle of the night.

The children of the orphanage didn't have many belongings. Even if he went to his room to collect something, it was dinner time, he should have been out by now.

And with all of those ninja following him around recently...

Ah, the more Kyōichirō thinks about it , the more annoying it is.

Ignoring the fact that he'd gotten attached-- once the matrons noticed he was gone, they would kick up a fuss about it for at least a few months. As one of the oldest children, Kyōichirō would be the one of the ones running around looking for him outside, and that would be tedious.

Not to mention the paperwork. The kid had recently applied for a scholarship in the capital. It wasn't the 2000s, where Kyōichirō could just shoot and email to the institution to inform them that a child wasn't able to attend.

He'd have to either:

A) Give the letter to a bird and cross his fingers hoping it actually gets there.

B) Pay an exorbitant amount of money to a shinobi to get them to deliver it.

C) Take the long, treacherous journey to the capital himself and either pay another exorbitant amount of money for an escort or face the dangers on his own.

"Have you seen Yūta today?" Kyōichirō asks.

"He was just here before," Mana says. "He got here before you and he should be right here… eh? I literally just talked to him…"

"He might have gone to get something," Hibari pipes up. "I think he wanted to get his homework and give it to you, Kyō-ni."

Kyōichirō's moving before he realises.

It would be happening right now, then.

"Wait, Kyō-nii?! Why are you running?!"

Ah, how annoying it is to care.

… He might as well collect the kid's homework, while he was at it.

He nears the door.

Thud.

Creaking noises.

The sound of struggle.

Kyōichirō flings open the door, and sure enough, Yūta was being held by one of those ROOT ninja, hand over his mouth as he thrashes.

A searing sort of anger burns Kyōichirō's fingers.

The ninja, who's size couldn't have been much bigger than Yūta, struggles to hold onto him, but their head darts up at Kyōichirō the moment the hear him.

Kyōichirō is grabbing the bedside lamp and smashing the abductor over the head with it before they can even wrangle Yūta's mouth shut.

The glass lampshade shatters, the abductor jerks backwards, as if to escape, but Kyōichirō grabs them by their wrist, yanks Yūta out of the way, throwing the child onto the floor, and hands a hard kick into the offender's stomach.

He drops the lamp, useless, now, and grabs the ninja's head, pulling his knee upwards and crushing the mask between them.

The ninja finally manages to wrench their wrist out of Kyōichirō's grasp, dislocated, no doubt, and makes for the window, but Kyōichirō grips his fist in the back of their armor and yanks them back into the room.

"Hey," He snaps at Yūta, who's sitting on the floor, terrified out of his wits. He schools his voice again. "Call the KPF, would you?"

To Yūta’s credit, he immediately does as he’s told, even scared.

The ninja takes advantage of his distraction to slice at his face with one of the glass shards on the table, and Kyōichirō doesn't manage to fully dodge.

Blood bubbles at the cut on his face.

He grabs the ninja's sleeves, throws them onto the ground, and finally pins them down onto the floor, Jiu-jitsu style, arms held between his legs and legs holding their head firmly. Through the mask, the ninja can't hope to retaliate even by biting him.

Kyōichirō's much bigger than Yūta, now-- so the ROOT ninja is much smaller than him, too.

… Really, it just had to be a child.

"-- they're just in this room!"

Ah, the KPF really does move quickly. They're ninja, after all.

The door to the room flies open, and Uchiha Fugaku barges in, eyes spinning pinwheel-red.

So that's the Sharingan.

It's pretty, he can’t help but think.

He and the root ninja must make quite the sight, he thinks, because the three policemen stare in abject fascination at what's in front of them.

"… It really just had to be you, huh, Takayanagi?"

"…" Kyōichirō considers his options for answers as the other two policemen come to their senses and take the little ROOT ninja off of him. "I think I've said a few times that Kyōichirō is fine, Fugaku-san."

"This kid, really…"

Notes:

(1)
Here's the English translation of the poem!
My thoughts in the silent night,
Bright, shining moonlight flooding the foot of my bed,
I think there may be frost coating the surface of the ground.
The light of the moon greets me as I raise my head,
and as I bow my head, I reminisce my home town.

By the way, all the translations (Cantonese to Japanese, Cantonese to English) were done by me, and even though I'm literate in all three languages, there might be mistakes, so please take these translations with a grain of salt.

Thanks for reading <3
I should be posting an extra chapter soon (hopefully) with an illustration of Kyō (adult ver.), so look forward to that! Hopefully I'll be posting the next chapter on the same day, so please stay tuned!
Thanks for waiting for me <3

Chapter 9: Teenagers.

Summary:

Kyōichirō sniffs out lying, interesting students, gets gossiped about, meets his roommate, and gets gossiped about again.

Notes:

Heya! This is an extra about Takayanagi's teaching days, but there's some pretty relevant information!
Also, sketches in a Google doc at the very end in the last author's note!

August, 2016

"Taka-chan-sensei," Takamine says, very seriously, and it's hilarious that the nickname is coming out of the polite kid's mouth. "I think you might be being underpaid."

Yeah, no shit, Jiro Kensuke thinks as he and Yuki sweep the classroom floors. This guy's working overtime for no reason just to keep them company while the class was cleaning as punishment for playing a prank on the faculty (a prank that Takayanagi had skillfully avoided).

What was Takamine doing here, anyway? He's a first-year.

Takayanagi looks up at the boy from where he's sitting at the window and lowers his pipe, breathing out a fume of smoke.

"I think so too," Takayanagi agrees.

"Club activities just started three days ago. How many clubs are you the faculty advisor for?"

"Hm," Takayanagi hums. "Track and field, Music, Home Ec., Chess, and..." He considers for a moment. "Ah, Jiu Jitsu yesterday."

What the fuck, Kensuke thinks. Can the man clone himself or what?

"Sensei," Takamine begins again. "You shouldn't be doing all those jobs on top of being the school counselor and the ethics teacher."

... huh. Was it just Kensuke or was Takamine not stuttering?

Takayanagi just smiles and empties his pipe out the window.

"... I also think that might be illegal." Takamine says. "...Are you allowed to smoke in front of students?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

Takamine looks exasperated at the reply, and he opens his mouth to speak again.

"-y, look at Mirin-chan, she's cleaning the blackboard."

"Oh~" Another boy leers, "serves her right for wearing her skirt so short."

"I heard she's been whoring herself out to Jiro and Yukie..."

"Come on! Just a little more!"

Kensuke's about to whack the boys over the head with his dirty-water-contaminated mop, but Takamine beats him to the chase.

Holding a notebook, he walks over and covers the back of Mirin's skirt with it and takes the eraser from her.

From where he's standing, he can tell Mirin's all friendly with her blank face as usual, and Takamine is smiling his wobbly smile back, but the moment Mirin turns away...

It's a cutting glare that Kensuke's never seen before, and the fuckers ogling at Mirin freeze in their seats like deer in the headlights.

Takamine holds the stare, intense, cold, and threatening, until one of them go blue and the others look like they're going to piss themselves. Only then does Takamine walk away, but not before sending one last glance over his shoulder at them.

Slowly, Kensuke's eyes glide over to where Takayanagi sits, and there's a chilling look of thrill on his face before he schools it back to indifference the moment Kensuke blinks. He simply meets eyes with Kensuke and acknowledges his presence, like nothing happened.

There was something about Takamine. It was a weird thing, and he supposes Takayanagi is drawn to it because, well, birds of a feather flock together.

There was one thing Kensuke knew though, Takamine was anything but a stuttering, fearful little boy.

He's actually regretting the fact that he'd messed with him at all.

But...

Huh.

Thats odd, how come he never showed any spine when they were bullying him?

He simply looked Mirin in the eye and...

Oh.

 

Mirin.

 

***

 

It's the second week since the start of their second term, and Kyōichirō has just finished his supervision of the jiu-jitsu club.

He'd left for a moment to drop off some paperwork at the office, but...

The students were already packing up.

"Thanks for supervising, sensei!"

"We've already packed up the gym!"

"See ya, Taka-chan!"

"It's Taka-chan-sensei to you, Miyazawa-kun."

"You're going to take 'Taka-chan-sensei' now...?"

"Uwah, he's given up on correcting us for that."

"It's only a matter of time before he's just 'Taka-pyon'."

Kyōichirō smacks the last boy on the head as he walks past with a roll of newspaper.

"'Taka-pyon' is off-limits," he drawls, and the boy just laughs.

Well, Kyōichirō hums through the cigarette in his mouth. They were already practicing overtime, anyway.

"Ah!" Miyzawa exclaims. "There's still a student borrowing the dojo with us, and they're in there right now, so don't lock up just yet, Taka-pyon!"

Little shit, Kyōichirō doesn't manage to stop himself from thinking, and he gives himself a little slap on the wrist.

He sees them off with a half-hearted wave of his hand and goes to inspect the dojo.

Kyōichirō already knows who's in there.

He sighs, and opens the door, quiet as a mouse.

The student doesn't notice him, not at first, running through katas in a gi that doesn't belong to their school.

His form is exceptional, every move, every form flowing smoothly like a dance.

Kyōichir huffs out the smoke in his lungs, and only then does the student look at him.

"Taka-chan-sensei," The student's face falls from its resting state, and turns into something mellow, soft, and so incredibly fake, walking up to where he's standing. "Is there something you need?"

"Takamine-kun," Kyōichirō leans against the door frame. "Why don't you just join the club?"

"Ah, I won't be able to come to practice more often than not, so," The boy's shoulder's fall a little too deliberately. "I won't be reliable for the competitions and such…"

Kyōichirō blinks slowly.

"… I see," He responds, voice mild as he approaches, "I can count on you to turn off the lights and lock up?"

"Of course."

Kyōichirō turns, as if to walk away, then throws his arm back in a ruthless strike towards Takamine's stomach-- and it's immediately caught, hand around his wrist and a second hand fisting the front of his kimono.

Hah-ha…

"Takamine Kisaragi, " Kyōichirō begins, letting the boy struggle against his strength. "Jiu-jitsu black belt, made nationals for 3 consecutive years in middle school, then scouted for the national team,"

Kyōichirō's cigarette is crushed between his teeth as Takamine lets him go, innocent façade falling apart as his eyes harden and he backs away cautiously.

"And yet, you couldn't fight back against some common school thugs that were harassing you."

Kyōichirō pauses for a moment, re-contemplating his words, brushing out the crinkles the boy left.

"No, it's not that you can't," He circles around the lone boy in the dojo. "It's that you won't."

"Not with Mirin-san there."

In the blink of an eye, a back-handed fist.

Kyōichirō simply whistles a low whistle, admiring the impact of the fist against the palm of his hand.

"... Taka-chan-sensei,"

"Stop saying that nickname so seriously."

"Taka-chan-sensei," Takamine repeats, retracting his hand and shaking it loosely. "You really are overqualified and underpaid."

Kyōichirō just smiles a little smile and dusts off his hands, his cigarette box out of his kimono.

He didn't bring his pipe today, it was getting cleaned.

"Don't smoke inside the dojo," Takamine scolds, already starting to strip out of his gi. "It's disrespectful."

Ah, right.

Kyōichirō stuffs the box back into his kimono.

Takamine is incredibly well-built for a 15-year-old, muscles rippling with every contortion of his body.

Kyōichirō applauds the patience the child must have to pretend to be someone considerably weaker.

Takamine dons his gakuran again, pristine and folded carefully, but his back doesn't return to its usual hunch, and his gaze no-longer meets with the floor, even as they leave the dojo and exit the school gates.

Only then does Kyōichirō take out his cigarette box again, placing another joint between his lips.

"… Do you have a light?"

He asks them every time, even though he knows the answer. Some students smoke, some don't, but neither Takamine nor Jiro, Mirin, or Yukie from second-year did.

(Mirin did carry around condoms, though, unsolicited knowledge that she randomly gave him)

"Are you really asking a student for that again?"

Kyōichirō looks at his pocket watch.

It's 5 in the evening.

"I'm off duty, so it's fine."

"It's really not," Takamine responds, but digs into his pockets anyway. "Here."

Kyōichirō raises his brow at the kid's extended light. He'd never offered one before, and Kyōichirō could attribute that to him hiding it, but as an athlete, he didn't think the boy would smoke.

The boy sighs when he has to flick it on again.

"I got one for you," He tells Kyōichirō. "Since you always forget yours."

"…Ah," Kyōichirō leans in, and Takamine cups his hand around the lighter as he lights the cigarette, blocking the wind from blowing the flame out. "Thank you."

"Hey, Taka-chan-sensei,"

"I'm begging you to stop that, Takamine-kun."

"There's a ramen place around here--"

Kyōichirō just sighs and lets the boy lead.

(The ramen was good.)

 

***

 

"What club is Mirin-chan in again?" Takamine asks.

So he'd been promoted to calling her 'Mirin-chan,'Naoto thinks, taking a sip of his sports drink.

It's after school hours, Mirin has gone off to club activities, and Naoto, Jiro, and Takamine are using the empty tennis lot to hang out.

"She's in the theater club," Jiro says as he flips to the next page of his Shonen Jump. "She got kidnapped by Kaiser in her first year."

"Why do you say it like that?" Naoto butts in, picking up his tennis racket like that. "Why can't you say it more nicely? Like 'she got scouted'? Kidnapped, really..."

Jiro frowns.

"You actually like Kaiser, so opinion rejected."

Naoto raises a brow.

"Why do you hate Kaiser anyway?" He asks. "He's funny."

"You think he's funny? He's weird!"

"So is every other teacher at this stupid school!"

"Sorry, who's Kaiser?"

Jiro scowls.

"Vicente Kaiser. The theater club coach. He's not a teacher."

"He's a bigshot, apparently," Yukie explains. "He used to be an actor."

"He's a sleazy guy that not many students know about," Jiro insults. "Mirin had to sign an NDA to join the club."

Takamine blinks.

"That's… intense. His name, too. Kaiser."

"Meaning 'Emperor', yeah," Jiro snorts. "And his first name means 'to conquer' in Latin."

"That's intense," Takamine repeats. "How old is he?"

Naoto shrugs.

"Dunno," He replies. "NDA, remember? But he's young. Very young. All the female students who've seen him love him."

"You know how Taka-Kyō is the #1 winner for most Valentine's day chocolates?"

Takamine nods hesitantly.

"Kaiser is a strong competitor. They compete every year for the most chocolate from students as faculty members."

"… Wow."

"Come on," Naoto calls. "Let's go one more round, Taka-chan!"

"Could you please stop calling me that…"

Jiro cackles.

"If we keep this up both you and Taka-Kyō will respond to the same names!"

"I'd really rather not."

Naoto glances at him.

"Why, do you not like Taka-Kyō?"

A Look flickers across his face-- Naoto doesn't think he's ever seen Takamine look anything other than wide-eyed and insecure.

Off to the side, Jiro looks at Takamine warily.

"I don't dislike him," Takamine settles on. "He's okay."

"…?"

Takamine gets ready on the other side of the court, and Naoto readies himself. Jiro puts down his manga to watch.

Naoto serves.

"How long has Taka-chan-sensei been teaching?" Takamine asks, hitting it back. "It seems to have been a while."

"I still can't believe he's 46," Naoto mutters, enunciating every syllable and returning the ball to the left of the court. "He's been teaching since day one, so around 20 years?"

"He certainly doesn't look like a man who's been dealing with kids for 20 years," Jiro says, leaning back into the green-coated wire fence around the tennis courts. "I think he might be lying about his age! There's no way that thing is 46!"

"That thing…" Naoto laughs. "He's really a human preservative."

"I'm telling you he's an alien!"

Takamine laughs, and Naoto finally lands a hit on Takamine's side of the court.

"Awh," Takamine sighs. "I really can't beat you at this, Yukie-kun."

"He's got crazy depth perception," Jiro comments. "He used to be in the Kyudo club, but--"

"Don't bore Taka-chan with the details," Naoto interrupts. "Here, Taka-chan, you serve next."

"Okay!"

Takamine serves.

Takamine's actually pretty athletic, Naoto observes. And when he stands up straight, he might be even taller than Jiro.

"Do you know if Taka-chan-sensei's ever done any other jobs?"

"Not that I know of," Naoto replies, hitting the ball down the line.

"..." Takamine returns the ball. "... I think he used to be part of the yakuza."

"!!?" Naoto doesn't manage to return the ball. "What?!"

"Taka-chan-sensei's missing a pinky, you know?"

"What?!"

Naoto straight-up drops his racket at that.

"No no no," Jiro holds up one hand, the other pressed on his face. "Last time I checked, Taka-Kyō-sensei has ten fully-functioning fingers."

"One of them is a prosthetic," Takamine tells them, sounding far more calm and collected than he did usually. "Because I went out to eat ramen with him the other day--"

"????" Jiro emotes his shock way more than he expresses it through audio. "I thought Taka-Kyō-sensei didn't hang out with his students at all?"

"I'm pretty sure it's also unprofessional," Takamine says.

"Then why'd you hang out with him if you're against it?!"

Takamine frowns.

"I never said I was against it," He responds. "All the other faculty members hang out with the kids here."

"That's because even though our school is backwater shitty with its funding all the teachers are psychos," Naoto smacks his hand onto his head, collapsing onto the grass field, knees to his chest. "Don't even get me started on the teachers at this school. Taka-chan-sensei is not the weirdest one."

Neither Takamine or Jiro refute that, and it only enforces just how weird their faculty worked.

"Actually--" Jiro begins. "All the kids at this school do well in athletics, in academics, and in like, every single other extracurricular, so how come our school is still so...!?"

"I think the teachers contribute in a way," Takamine says, cracking his shoulders. Fuck, he really is tall when he stands up straight. "We always end up with more second years than first years because they either drop out or their parents try to sue the school."

"Hah! Right, we only have 150 students in total in this place!" Jiro juts out a finger, sharp canines showing through his wide laugh. "I think some parent tried to sue Taka-Kyō for criminal negligence, or something last year."

"They'd be right to do so, though," Takamine admits, laughing nervously. "I'm pretty sure he does qualify as a criminal just through what he does at school..."

Mmhm.

Vandalism, destruction of property, suicide-baiting, giving tobacco to underaged children...

Yukie is also pretty sure that isn't where the list ends.

"You really have to be just right to stay at this school, huh," Jiro laughs. "... Wait, how did Taka-Kyō get out of that lawsuit??"

Takamine just shrugs.

"...Wait." Yukie pauses. "... Doesn't that just mean all the students are just as weird?"

"Birds of a feather flock together," Takamine mumbles. "As they say."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Fuck!" Jiro's hands fly to his hair. "We're really in the same category as those freaky teachers?!"

"Now, I don't think we're that bad quite yet," Yukie backtracks. "Right?"

"Keyword: Yet."

"No!" Jiro laments, forgetting his manga altogether as he flies to his feet. "I'm the same as that old hag in Home Ec.!"

Thwack!

"You're such a fucking rude little shit," A familiar pair of heeled boots. "I'm still 18 at heart!"

"B-" Jiro's hands fly to his head, nursing where the teacher had just clubbed him over the head. "Baba-sensei!"

"Hargh?!" 18-at-heart teacher Kobayashi Kiriko digs her fist into Jiro's already wrinkled white shirt. "Call me that again, I dare you! And where is your gakuran?!"

Naoto thinks she has to be breaking an innumerable amount of dress code rules with the whole domanatrix-yankee-hybrid get-up that the Home Economics teacher has going on, but hey, who is he to judge?

The thigh-high boots are, as the girls say, very slay. She's eating that bleached-hair leather-suit look up.

... Oh god, he's been hanging around Mirin and her girlfriends for too long.

"It's after school hours, Kobayashi-sensei," Another voice drawls. "Let them chill."

"Aiku-sensei," Takamine greets. "What brings you to the athletics area?"

Aiku Hiroki, the physics teacher, rests the folder he's holding in his hand on his neck, holding his elbows out like he desperately needs something in his back realigned or something.

Naoto really thinks this man needs to invest in a visit to some sort of chiropractor, because there's something about his neck that makes Naoto genuinely worried for the future of Aiku, and he doesn't even like the man, or physics, for that matter.

"Takayanagi told us that you two clowns would be here," Aiku says, gesturing to Jiro and Naoto, tone extremely slow. "You two need to hand in your excursion permission forms in."

"Takamine," Kobayashi walks up to the first-year. "Mitsuri told me to tell you that she submitted your Japanese Literature work into a national comp--"

"Excuse me?" Takamine repeats. "Onizuka-sensei did what?"

Naoto tunes them out, rolling his eyes.

Mister valedictorian-kun has done it again.

"... Haven't I already handed in mine to you?" He asks the male teacher.

"Yeah," The man responds. "But I lost the lot of them, so everyone hasta redo them, I guess."

Naoto facepalms.

"Oh, and," Aiku turns to Jiro. "I know your mom can't pay for the fee, so I'll be funding it, don't worry, kid."

"Hah?!" Jiro exclaims. "Aiku-sensei, every time...!"

"Sensei," Naoto says, very seriously. "This is the reason you can't afford a chiropractor."

"Shuddap."

Naoto turns to Jiro.

"Hey," He says. "I'll cover it," He jabs his thumb at the teacher in front of them. "This guy's dirt poor already, so let's give him a break, yeah?"

"Hey...!" Aiku snaps, his cigarette falling out his mouth. "Kobayashi-sensei's right, you really are a bunch of little shits."

"Too late," Jiro says. "Mirin's already covered it."

"Mirin?!" Both Naoto and Aiku yell in unison.

"What," Aiku begins. "Don't tell me ya'll are dating?!" He clicks his tongue. "I've taught Mirin better than to spend her money on a man!"

"Is she your daughter or something??" Jiro asks. "And ew, no, Mirin's like. Mirin's like my daughter. I birthed her from my own body!"

"???" Aiku's face says it all. "Don't you mean like your sister?"

"Yeah, that! Whatever, she's family!"

"Mirin beat me to it?!" Naoto screeches. "That bitch!"

"I could have paid for it with the stuff from my part-time," Jiro grumbles. "But she kept leaving money everywhere. I'm serious, she was putting it in my shoe locker, in my desk, in my bag, in my house-- she isn't even supposed to know where I live-- and like, in a zip lock bag in the boy's toilet!" Jiro looks haunted. "I had no choice but to accept the money after that!"

"Ew," Naoto says at the same time that Aiku mutters "Suffering from fucking success, ungrateful shit."

"Anyway," Jiro shrugs. "I lost, she won, so she's paying."

"Ah~" Aiku whines. "I wish a cute JK(1) would come into my life and give me wads of cash!"

"Watch what you say, sensei," Naoto comments offhandedly. "The police are gonna catch on."

"What police?" Jiro snorts. "There isn't safety for shit around these parts of ToKyō."

... He's right, for real.

"It's okay," Aiku tries. "We have our friendly neighborhood vigilantes!"

"You mean Taka-Kyō and Baba-sensei?"

"I heard that, you little shit!"

"Fucking try me, you old hag!" Jiro screams back at her. "18-at heart my perky ass!"

"Why you...!"

Jiro and Kobayashi are quick to leave their respective conversations and start fighting.

Seriously, he thinks, watching Kobayashi grip her hands into Jiro's hair and Jiro do the same to her. These two fight like cats and dogs.

"... Do they fight like this usually?" Takamine's gone back to Timid-mine mode, hunching his shoulders again as he approaches them, looking at the teacher-student duo nervously.

Naoto hopes he knows everyone is seeing through his bullshit except Mirin.

"Every single day," Aiku intones, and Naoto sighs.

Aiku rolls his shoulders again, pulling another pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"Don't underestimate Kobayashi-sensei, kids," Aiku snorts, trying and failing to pick apart the thin plastic packaging. "She runs a biker gang."

"I'm fairly sure all of those onee-sans are just results of Kobayashi-sensei achieving mitosis," Naoto replies. "So it's Kobayashi sensei. Singular."

"If only you could pay as much attention to physics as you do biology..."

What is this guy talking about? Naoto rolls his eyes even harder than usual. There's not a single student in this school that can survive not being academically successful. Even if they're the biggest idiots in the universe, the teachers here seemed to have mastered the art of the psychic transferring of information students don't want to learn, or something wild like that. They're all straight-A students, please.

"Taka-chan-sensei runs around being a vigilante?" Takamine asks.

"You still call him that?!" Aiku cackles, finally opening the plastic packaging. "I thought it'd evolved to Taka-Taka-Kyō-Taka-Kyō-pyon-pyon-tan-chan-sensei or something."

... That is an insane thing it's become.

This isn't even Pichu to Pikachu to Raichu anymore.

This was like a Charmander immediately mega-evolving to a mega-evolved Charizard, or something. Like Pikachu suddenly turning into Mewtwo. It made no sense and it was insane.

It straight-up sounded like a curse ritual. Were they trying to voodoo Takayanagi or something?"

"I suppose I'm not up-to-date with the trends of the youth these days," Takamine smiles.

"You sound like an old geezer."

"No," Aiku says. "He sounds like Takayanagi."

!!

Aiku and Naoto's eyes meet, and then they screech with laughter.

"You're so right!" Naoto guffaws. "This is literally the 'they're the same picture' meme!"

Aiku adjusts his hold on his folder and tips up his glasses with his fingers.

"Corporate wants you to find the difference between these two specimens."

"They're the same specimen."

They burst into laughter again.

"Are you two children...?" Takamine asks, but is ignored.

"Right!" Naoto claps his hands together like a seal. "We were literally just talking about Taka-Kyō-pyon before Ba-- I mean, Kobayashi-sensei came and hit Jiro over the head!"

"Yukie-kun..."

"Takamine thinks that Taka-pyon used to be yakuza!" Naoto exclaims. "Isn't that crazy?!"

"It's not crazy," Takamine frowns. "I mean, his hands are scarred and he's missing a pinky."

"You've seen him without his gloves before?!" Aiku's eyes are as wide as saucers.

"Get this," Naoto prepared to spill the hottest tea of the week, right after the gossip about the History teacher getting arrested (and released the same day) earlier this week. "Takamine went and had ramen after school with Taka-pyon on Friday."

"What?!" Aiku cries, scandalized. "He's never even had lunch with me, and we've known each other for years!"

"Taka-pyon had dinner with a student!" Kobayashi screeches. "I'll never forgive this betrayal!"

"Why are you reacting like he's cheating on you?!"

"After my wife died," Aiku sobs. "He promised we'd be together forever...!"

"Your wife isn't dead, though," Naoto cuts in. "I literally saw her this morning. What are you on about."

"Is this a soap opera now?" Jiro asks the air.

"I will be telling Yuki-san about the JK comment, by the way," Naoto says.

"N-now," Aiku raises his hands, wiping his fake tears. "No need to go that far."

"Well I'm not married, I'm single as a pringle!" Kobayashi brags. "I've been rejected by all the men I've asked out, so Taka-pyon is free to date me!"

"Being rejected all the time isn't something to brag about, Kobayashi-sensei..."

"Also, isn't Taka-Kyō over twice your age, Miss 18-at-heart-sensei?" Jiro drawls. "I wouldn't want Taka-Kyō to get arrested right after being taken to court for child-endangerment."

"... As I was saying," Takamine begins again, because clearly, he doesn't know how to add on to whatever theatrics are going on here. "I'm fairly certain Taka-chan-sensei used to be part of the Yakuza."

"... That would make so much sense, actually," Kobayashi responds.

"He doesn't have tattoos, though, I think," Aiku responds. "I mean, I've seen him change."

"But everything else makes sense. That physical ability, that refusal for romance, that insane personality..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Let's forget we had this conversation. I feel like if we open Pandora's box we'll never have good sleep ever again."

"Agreed."

 

***

 

"Again, Himawari-san," Vicente calls. "I know you can do better than that."

"Yes, sir!"

Vicente Kaiser is a tall, half-Asian, half-European man that looks distinctly like a fox, and has an incredibly imposing aura.

A celebrity at first glance, you'd notice.

Born for the camera, born for the stage, the articles said.

When Kyōichirō first met him, he thought he wouldn't be surprised if he was from Kyōto and his name was actually Inari-sama.

"Ever the slave-driver, hm?" Kyōichirō comments, sliding into the cushioned theater seat next to him.

Vicente looks at him.

"Kyōichirō," His smile is ever-present. "No work to mark, today?"

"I was supposed to have counseling with Mirin," Kyōichirō sighs. "But unfortunately, she's been poached by someone..."

"You willingly gave her to me," Vicente turns his gaze back to the script in his hands. "Thank you for the shiny new toy, Kyōichirō~"

Kyōichirō sighs, and focuses his attention on the stage in front of them.

He never would have thought Mirin would excel in the theater, until he'd casually suggested she join the theater club and she ended up helping them win a national competition.

Truly a diamond in the rough.

Mirin's face was usually completely blank, even when she put so much emotion into her vocal tone. He thought she would have ended up backstage, or something, but no.

... He doesn't think he's ever seen Mirin look this-- this alive.

"Romeo Montague!" She-he? Roars from across the stage. "You stop not at hunting down my family, and now you lay your eyes upon my young cousin?!"

Ah, so she was to play Tybalt.

The stage is burning-- dark, obsidian hellfire-- rage-- not red hot, but death black, full of real, pure hatred.

Kyōichirō's hair stands on end as Tybalt's words continue to reverberate through the theater, shaking his very bones.

Huh? Isn't this a little different from the original? Was he imagining things?

"It's love, Tybalt," The boy playing Romeo-- Asano, the student council president-- spits. "Not that you would know anything like it!"

"Romeo!" Himawari of class 2-A, who was playing Juliet, cries. "Don't do this!"

... How should Kyōichirō say this? Compared to Tybalt, the two main leads are...

"Underwhelming, isn't it?"

Kyōichirō looks back at Vicente, who is still looking at the stage.

"In an ideal world, I'd have three actors of Mirin's caliber," Vicente murmurs. "Or Mirin and one other would play Romeo and Juliet. But unfortunately, Mirin specifically requested to be Tybalt."

"..."

"Who am I to deny my cute little student's request?"

"You like Mirin's Tybalt," Kyōichirō concludes. "It's fresh, I can tell, but... Even I know that's not all it. It's brilliant."

Vicente smiles.

"And you're willing to sacrifice the whole play for that Tybalt."

Of course. That's the kind of actor Vicente Kaiser was.

"Don't say it like all hope is lost," Vicente murmurs. "Those two aren't completely hopeless. They have potential."

"I hope you aren't planning on dumping it all on me, Vicente."

"Oh, you saw right through me."

Kyōichirō can only sigh.

"... What do you want for dinner tonight?" Kyōichirō asks. "I think we have some curry left over."

"Let's have it with udon instead of rice, then," Vicente mutters. "I know you prefer that."

"I'll buy it on the way home, then."

"Thanks, darling."

Kyōichirō rolls his eyes. If anyone else heard that inside joke they'd misunderstand.

"I'll be leaving."

"See you at home."

***

"Guys!" Mirin rushes into the classroom, newly-dyed-pink hair disheveled. "I think Taka-Taka-Pyon and Master Kaiser are married!"

"What?!"

Notes:

(1) JK, abreviation for Romaji: Joshi-kousei-- female high-school student.
Thanks for reading!
Here are some sketches of the characters!
I'm sorry I don't know how to put images here 😭 They're paper sketches and they're immensely sloppy and were made in like 10 min, but I did quite a few of them, so please enjoy

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Ov8fL5VxG--xsExz2RsfrqFl6U6KXmwGYMDnvxKEMCI/edit?usp=sharing

Chapter 10: A metal bow and three arrows

Summary:

Kyōichirō does things

Notes:

Yes the desc is lacking. I am tired. I didn't manage to post in the sme 24 hours, but whatever. Goodnight. Will be back later to do some editing.
Also.
PLEASE READ:
There was an extra chapter posted before this if you didn't already read it!!!! Posting this close tgth tends to lead to some confusion so I wanted to let yall know

"Whaddya think, Misfortune-kun?" A dazzling smile, a relaxed posture, and a dialect distinctly not from Tokyo. "Kyudo is pretty, eh?"  

"It's beautiful, Imu-sensei," Kyōichirō responded. "But you still aren't allowed to smoke in front of students."

"Shut up and let me have my moments, Misfortune-kun."

 

***

 

"... Is this really necessary?" Kyōichirō asks, looking through the glass at the agent tied to a chair and being interrogated. "I don't think you'll be able to get anything out of her."

Fugaku raises a brow.

"And why do you think that?"

Kyōichirō doesn't answer.

He knows assassins, and he knows how desperate they are to stay silent.

"... Have you checked for poison pills in her mouth?" He asks instead.

"Not yet," Fugaku replies. "Waiting for the right moment--"

And just as he says it, officer Uchiha Tomoe (who often fishes Kyōichirō out of the river) grabs the little girl by the cheeks and forces her jaw open.

"...!"

"It's a seal," Fugaku frowns, moving closer. "Did ROOT agents all have seals? I thought they didn't?"

"If my knowledge is correct," Tomoe begins, gently letting the girl's face go. "Then they don't actually have any information to give. Every mission is isolated and not even the numbers in their ranks are in their minds. They're just a do-don't-think sort of assassination corps."

Kyōichirō sighs.

As he thought.

Age should come with wisdom, Kyōichirō thinks. Sandaime-sama should know that power is a very dangerous thing to give a man, but he understands that sentimentality would cloud some of that crisp, logical judgment.

"Kyōichirō-kun!"

Minato stumbles in with a bedhead and in pajamas, Sakumo and Kakashi not far behind him.

"Are you okay?!" Minato frets, hovering over him. "Thank you for helping him, Fugaku-san!"

"Kyo-nii," Kakashi mumbles, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "You're not dead."

"Kyōichirō," Sakumo breathes a sigh of relief, but his eyes are cloudier than usual.

Kyōichirō blinks, then checks his pocket watch.

Oh.

It's already three in the morning.

"... You should all be in bed," Kyōichirō comments. "You won't sleep a full 8-hours at this rate."

"That's what you have to say?!"

"There's a scratch on your cheek," Sakumo says, picking Kyōichirō up.

A warm, wet sensation on the cut on his cheek.

Kyōichirō spins around, slapping his hand onto the spot, alarmed.

"Sakumo-san," He utters. "Did you just lick me?"

"Is it that weird?" Kakashi asks. "Tou-san licks my cuts all the time."

"I think it's a dog thing," A policeman walking by comments. "Hatake."

"Get back to work, Himuro," Fugaku snaps.

The policeman, Himuro, just snickers and walks into one of the offices.

"Please put me down, Sakumo-san."

".... Okay."

Oh, Kyōichirō could get on his knees and hug the ground. Really, gravity is the best.

Being small shouldn't be an invitation for people to pick him up...

"How did the news reach you?" Kyōichirō asks, ignoring the way Minato looks like he's going to have an aneurysm. "I don't think Fugaku-dono contacted you as my guardians..."

"Minato told me while he was passing by our place."

"Minato?"

"Actually," Fugaku coughs. "It seems that Minato volunteered to attend meetings as your guardian and your orphanage director approved."

"How is that meant to work?" Kyōichirō mutters, genuinely curious. "Does that mean I could legally live with Minato? He's a bit young, so how did he appeal? It sounds like a lot of legal bureaucracy paperwork that you would have to do..."

"That's really not the point here!" Minato cries. "The paperwork is my problem to worry about, okay? I'm more worried about your continued existence! There are people literally trying to poach you!"

Ah, so there is bothersome paperwork to do.

"Technically speaking," Kyōichirō begins. "It wasn't me being kidnapped, but Yūta."

"And you still got involved somehow?!"

"Kyōichirō really did have it all handled," Fugaku presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, exhausted. "He was seriously relaxed even though he was holding the agent down."

Kyōichirō nods.

"I would have started reading if Fugaku-san got there any later."

"..." Fugaku massages his eyes even more.

Kyōichirō blinks. Does he have dry eye?

"... Kyo-nii," Kakashi says, falling asleep against his leg. "You're seriously weird."

"Sakumo," Fugaku eyes Kakashi warily. "Don't you think your kid is obnoxiously well-spoken for a three-year-old?"

"I dunno," Sakumo shrugs, looking extremely tired even though he was smiling as usual. "I think we got some insane exposure therapy while dealing with Kyōichirō, so it just doesn't alarm me anymore..."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kyōichirō asks dryly. "I hope that isn't an insult."

"No comment."

Kyōichirō sighs again.

"What do we do with her, then?" Kyōichirō asks.

Fugaku crosses his arms.

"Well..."

 

***

 

Yūta sits across from his assailant.

The unnamed assailant stares back.

Kyōichirō looks towards the ceiling.

How did it come to this?

 

"It would be a better idea to let the kid return to the corps," Sakumo had begun. "But I don't like the idea of returning a child back to their abuser."

"Yeah," Minato mutters. "Danzo-sama will definitely realize if one of the root agents are missing."

The blonde examines the sketch of the seal that Tomoe had drawn.

"It's definitely more than a silencing seal," Minato tells them. "There's tracking, pain, and some... There's some terrible stuff in this."

"Even more so than the ANBU seals?" Fugaku asks.

"Definitely worse."

"Should I just bring her home to the orphanage?"

All heads whip around to Kyōichirō-- except Kakashi, who's fallen asleep against his father's chest.

"Are you insane?!" Minato yells. "What if she tries to kill you!"

'I think I'd kill her before she kills me, but...'

Kyōichirō shrugs.

"If none of us keep her, then the only other option is sending her back or killing her on the spot and then wiping all the reports clean," He says. "I think I'm rather opposed to the last two options, but if we must..."

"Can you not be so casual about killing some random little girl? You're not even a ninja."

"I can't take her home," Sakumo says. "I'm too active."

And so are Minato and Fugaku.

"See," Kyōichirō says. "I'm the only one who can."

"This is a terrible idea in every way imaginable," Fugaku groans."... Should we just kill her?"

"Fugaku!" Minato cries. "No we cannot!"

"If it helps," Kyōichirō raises his hand, as if he were a student in a classroom. "This probably won't be more dangerous than my submersion-- I mean, my swimming. Or my walks."

"Because you always seem to bump into dangerous people on your walks!" Fugaku snaps. "Do you know how many criminals we've arrested because of you?!"

"You're welcome."

Fugaku presses his hands to his eyes again in frustration.

Kyōichirō sighs, and digs into his kimono to pull out some eye drops.

"Here, Fugaku-san," He says. "All this stress is doing your dry-eye no good."

"And whose fault do you think that is?" Fugaku asks, accepting them. "And how do you even know I have dry-eye? Actually, no, you carry eye-drops?"

"I have an emergency kit in my kimono. Bandages, sewing set, eye-drops, wipes..."

"I've seen him pull some wild things out of this kimono," Tomoe mentions, walking into their conversation with a cup of coffee in hand. "He pulled out a hamster last time."

The hamster was a one time thing, Kyōichirō doesn't get the chance to say, because Sakumo interrupts them.

"Stop veering this conversation off course," He begs. "I think I'm starting to lose it."

"Congrats," Fugaku comments sarcastically. "I lost it around 16 hours ago when Kyōichirō told me about an Opium trade happening in Hanamachi."

Huh. Less time has passed since then than Kyōichirō thought.

"He what?!" Minato is freaking out. "Kyōichirō! You literally just went out to buy paper cups!"

"He also helped a guy out of the dung-pit on the market street, too."

"Please." Sakumo is begging even harder, somehow. "Stop. I need to have this dealt with and then go home and sleep."

"Then go home?" Kyōichirō suggests.

"How can I?!"

Fugaku slumps his shoulders long-sufferingly.

"Fine. Let Kyōichirō take her back to the orphanage."

"Fugaku-san?!"

"We'll keep a watch on her," Fugaku tells them. "There are also ANBU at the orphanage, right?"

"Then what the f-- I mean, what the heck were they doing when Kyōichirō was wrangling an attacker?!" Tomoe stumbles over his words, eyes darting to Kyōichirō then back and Fugaku nervously.

"They work a nine to five, Tomoe-san," Kyōichirō tells him. "None in their sane minds will work overtime on a nine-to-five shift. I wouldn't work overtime on a nine-to-five on a high pay, and I don't think ANBU are even getting paid that much."

"We really aren't..." A nearby Uchiha mutters under their breath.

"Also," Kyōichirō says. "It's okay to say 'fuck', Tomoe-san. I don't mind. I get it."

Fugaku facepalms as Minato and Sakumo stare, mortified.

"Anywho," Kyōichirō sighs, rubbing the space between his brows with his thumb. "I'll be taking her back to the orphanage. I'll let you know if any complications arise."

 

"Kyo-nii," Yūta finally says after a minute of staring. "Isn't this the girl that tried to kidnap me?"

"Yes."

Yūta blinks at him slowly, then looks back at the girl.

"... Oh well, then," Yūta shrugs. "What's your name?"

The girl tilts her head to the side like a particularly confused bird.

"She doesn't have a name," Kyōichirō says. "And she's mostly nonverbal."

"Oh."

Kyōichirō cracks his neck.

"Why don't you make a name for her?"

Yūta blinks, then looks back at the girl in front of him.

"I think I'll have to think about it," The boy decides. "I was about to ask what her hobbies were, but..."

Oh well.

She can just be 'hey, you,' for now.

"It's almost afternoon," Kyōichirō says. "Should we cook something?"

"Is the matron away today?"

"Yes, but there's some pre-prepared food for the kids."

"Why are we cooking, then?"

"I want to eat curry," Kyōichirō replies, already heading for the pantry. "Ah. We don't have udon."

"Let's just have it with rice?"

"..."

Kyōichirō turns on his heel.

"Won't you hang out with Miss nameless for now? I'll get some shopping done."

He can feel Yūta's exasperated gaze digging into his back.

"... Alright. Be safe."

 

***

 

"Great timing, anchan! We just made these this morning!" The owner of the noodle place laughs. "do you want frozen or fresh?"

"Fresh. About twenty-servings worth, please."

"Right-o!"

Kyōichirō looks down the market street as the man packs his order.

It's a busy day for the whole market, it seems.

Well, it is a weekend, so people are out with their families, shopping, and meeting friends.

It seems that there's a certain type of working-class citizens on break. Kyōichirō guesses it's office-workers.

Right. He needs to go see Fugaku-san, but he doesn't work on weekends.

He supposes he'll have to visit the Uchiha compound later. He could deliver Uchiha Retsuko's letters while he's at it.

"Here you go, kiddo!"

Kyōichirō looks back at the man and smiles.

"Thank you."

"No problem! Come back anytime!"

Kyōichirō nods as he walks away.

He should get some rice cakes or something for when he goes to visit Fugaku-san, but first, he'd go back to the orphanage and have lunch.

 

***

 

"Kyō-nii!"

Yūta is running at him the moment he enters through the door.

... What is it?

Kyōichirō has an ominous feeling about Yūta's panic.

"Kyō-nii!" Yūta repeats, dragging Miss nameless behind him as if he didn't hear him the first time. "She made the strawberries in the garden come back to life!"

What.

"Isn't this a big deal?" Yūta frets. "No one's supposed to have the mokuton, you don't have to be a ninja to know that!"

Kyōichirō resists the urge to find the nearest river and submerge himself.

"... Pretend it didn't happen," Kyōichirō tells the boy. "Keep it a secret, okay? Otherwise she'll be in danger."

Yūta nods gravely.

"Should we start cooking, then?"

"Actually, Kyō-nii," Yūta begins. "Can me and her cook alone? I think I need to teach her and there's not enough space in the kitchen for three..."

"Alright," Kyōichirō nods. "Go ahead."

"It's 11:20," Yūta says. "Come back at 1:30 to eat? I think it's an easy dish, but since I'm teaching her I might need a whole 2 hours..."

"Roger that," Kyōichirō salutes lazily. "I'll leave her to you, then."

 

***

 

Iroha Weaponry , the sign reads.

Kyōichirō doesn't want to go in.

He drags his feet, does the trained-assassin-equivalent of twiddling his thumbs (also known as screaming internally), pats down his hakama and walks over to the counter.

The man looks up from his newspaper at Kyōichirō.

"...Are you an academy student?"

"Ah, not yet," Kyōichirō lies smoothly.

The store vendor looks at him doubtfully, eyes scanning his kimono up and down.

Kyōichirō can admit he isn't dressed like an aspiring ninja.

"What do you want?" The man , Iroha , the name tag reads, asks him, exiting the counter.

He doesn't want anything per se, he is here searching out of necessity.

"Just some ninja wire and a small dagger."

"No kunai? Shuriken?"

Unfortunately, Kyōichirō was never trained as a ninja, so he wouldn't be able to proficiently use them even if he bought those.

Ah, all he wants is a long-ranged weapon that isn't thrown. He can't believe he is actually missing the feeling of reloading a magazine-- he thought he'd happily forget it for the rest of his life.

 

"Senpai," His underclassman sobs. "I've been learning kendo for all my life, how did you pick up the basics all by yourself in a single day?!"

Another classmate puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't mind."

"Don't comfort me!"

 

"No, thank you," Kyōichirō smiles.

"I'll grab some options for you," The vendor replies, waving his hand. "Feel free to look around while you're waiting."

Kyōichirō nods as the man goes around to the back of the store, and turns to walk around as Iroha told him to.

Most of the weapons out here haven't been sharpened-- they're just here to showcase what they have in stock and used for testing. Kyōichirō thinks that means there's some sort of testing site nearby.

Of course, since this is a ninja apparel store, it means there's more ninja-oriented items like clothing, disguises, camouflages, and small weapons rather than large, conspicuous ones like war hammers and swords.

As it is, there are more tantō than wakizashi, and exactly two different full-length katana.

Then, at the corner of his eye...

"Wakyū?" He murmurs.

It's just the one, beautifully crafted and displayed on the wall, and a small bin of arrows.

Maybe it's for kyudo purposes, he considers. There were some shrines around, weren't there?

He examines it a little closer.

It doesn't look like a kyudo bow, though. If he had to say, it was made a bit sturdier. He wasn't even sure it was made of wood. Maybe it was this world's version of kyūjutsu? But ninja warfare didn't tend to use bows at all, did they? They fought like ninja, not like samurai.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Kyōichirō turns towards the vendor. He'd sensed the man open the door and return, completely silently, and purposely didn't react.

Iroha must have been a former ninja.

"I picked it up on my way back from Iron Country," The man tells him. "The merchant gave it to me for free because no one's actually able to use it."

"Oh?"

The man's dark eyes smile even as his mouth doesn't. He looks a lot like Uchiha Inabi, now that Kyōichirō's really looking.

"It's made of steel," He explains. "So it's incredibly difficult to use."

Ah, so it’s a tekkyū.

How nostalgic.

 

"Isn't it beautiful?" A beauty mark at the corner of her eye, a calming, firm voice. "It's firm body, the tension of the string, the tsurune…"

Her smile sends his heart aflutter.

"It's my favorite sound in the world."

 

"… It is beautiful," Kyōichirō agrees, before turning his gaze to the catalog of weapons the man has opened on the counter. "… Could you tell me the difference between these two tantō --"

A horrified cry from the street.

"NO!"

He sees the full-bodied jolt in the man's shoulders before he fully registers himself turning towards the noise.

Something was happening outside.

Kyōichirō and the Iroha rush out of the store to inspect the commotion.

An elderly lady lies in the middle of the road, her shopping basket and all of it's contents spilled across the dirt road.

Her head lies in a puddle of her own blood.

The cry seemed to have come from the young woman who was kneeling at her side, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

"It's a thief!" A brave spectator cries, pointing at the running, leaping figure disappearing into the rooftops. "Notify the shinobi!"

Iroha seems to curse under his breath.

Kyōichirō spares a short glance at the bandages wrapped around the man's leg, and at the man's well-disguised limp, and comes to a decision.

"Iroha-san, may I borrow the bow?"

The man's face turns to him, bewildered.

"I don't mind, but you won't be able to--"

Kyōichirō has already taken the bow and three arrows between his fingers as the man speaks.

"Thank you."

He rushes into the center of the road, eyes fixed on the escaping figure.

It must be a former Academy student-- someone who didn't graduate-- his movement is too practiced to be civilian, but too slow and amateur to be a proper shinobi.

Kyōichirō spreads his stance, and flings one side of his kimono off his shoulder.

Ashibumi.

It's a familiar ritual. A ritual that tugs at his chest, but he pushes through.

His left hand finds the bowstring.

Torikake.

His hands wrap around the silk bindings of the tekkyū's body, and adjust for aim.

Tenouchi.

His head turns to the target.

Monomi.

The heavy bow is lifted.

Uchikoshi .

"Kid, many people have tried, and they couldn't--!!!"

The arrow is steady between his fingers as he lowers the bow again, pulling the back of the arrow and the hemp bowstring right past his chin.

Kai.

The declaration makes it past his lips before he can stop it.

(It's too easy, too familiar, too disgusting, and his draw is a terribly bastardized version of something that's supposed to be beautiful, supposed to be an artform. )

"参ります!"

He lets go.

Hanare.

The vibrating noise of the bowstring, the low whistle of the arrow--

Tsurune.

It's as beautiful of a noise as he remembered it to be.

It makes him feel sick .

 

***

 

Uchiha Iroha watches in muted awe as the child ( a child! ) draws the bow that he's never seen anyone draw before, and releases the arrow.

The form had been something immensely powerful, and he'd watched every ripple of muscle in that boy's bare torso, the unshaking, confident poise, the unwavering focus of his eyes.

The sound is gorgeous, as expected of such a large bow with such a long string.

Not even samurai could use that bow-- it was built differently from other tekkyū, but this what, 10-year-old? Had done it!

Iroha traces the trajectory of the arrow, and is even more shocked when it nails the thief in the ankle.

"... I got him," The boy mutters as civilians rush to catch the falling body. "Sorry. I suppose I didn't need three arrows after all."

"No," Iroha responds faintly. "It's fine."

The boy swings the bow over his shoulder and turns around to meet the authorities rushing in.

"Takayanagi Kyōichirō, I swear to god...!"

Oh god, it's Fugaku.

It's Fugaku and he's calling the kid out by their full name.

Iroha steps out.

"Hey, Fugaku-chan!" He calls. "The kid did nothing--"

"Shut it for a second, Iroha," Fugaku holds out a hand, looking completely fried.

Iroha winces.

"Takayanagi, can you not go 24 hours without being involved in some kind of incident?!" Fugaku looks like he's going to throttle the kid as the medical team perform first aid. "I literally just released you from the police station how long ago...?!"

"Around 9 hours ago," The boy, Takayanagi, answers promptly. "I suppose my luck is most unfortunate."

"And since when could you shoot a bow?!" Fugaku continues, borderline hysterical. Iroha thinks he could laugh at his face, if only he wasn't just as frazzled. "Not to mention a bow like that, oh my--"

Fugaku slaps a hand to his neck, face twisting.

"My blood pressure...!"

Takayanagi sighs as if he 's the one being inconvenienced.

"Don't you think you need to take your annual leave-- I mean, a break, Fugaku-dono?"

"Whose fault do you think that is?!"

"Don't mind them," Tomoe walks up to him, bags under his eyes. "They're always like this."

Iroha eyes him.

"... What was that kid in the police station for earlier?"

"Oh," Tomoe snorts, but his eyes are swimming. "He almost got kidnapped."

??!?!?

"Oh, Mitsuki, thanks for grabbing the guy!" Tomoe calls out to the other policeman, who's dragging the thief down the road.

"How 'bout you get off your ass and do some damn work?!" Mitsuki screeches at him. "Fucking bitch!"

"Dang, who put that arrow through this guy's leg?" Tomoe whistles lowly, ignoring Mitsuki. "It ripped a huge hole through him! That guy's never gonna walk again unless he gets lucky enough to see Tsunade-sama!"

"It was the kid," Iroha responds. "Obviously, seeing as he's walking around with the bow still on him."

"... Isn't that the bow you were showing off to everyone last time?"

"... Yeah."

"The one no one could use?"

"Yeah."

"Holy shit."

Uh-huh.

Takayanagi turns away from Fugaku who's lecturing him and walks up to Iroha.

Fugaku seems to give up on lecturing completely at being ignored, slumping to the ground on his knees.

This kid is gonna be the reason why Fushima isn't going to have any grandchildren. Fugaku will be swearing off kids at this rate.

"Sorry about that, Iroha-san," The boy hands him the bow and arrows with one hand like they're not heavy in the slightest. "I don't think they're damaged, but it wouldn't hurt to check."

"No, it's fine," Iroha says, again. "Actually..."

He hobbles over to the bin of arrows, grabs it, and then goes back behind the counter to get the wrapping cloth and the tantō and the ninja wire the boy was looking at.

"Here," He says to Kyōichirō, taking the bow and wrapping it up with everything else. "Take it. It's on me."

"Excuse me?" The boy replies. "I'm not--"

"As thanks for taking the bow off my hands," Iroha says, adjusting the weight on his leg. "Just come over and shoot some targets for me from time to time."

"... Thank you very much."

"Hey, no fair," Tomoe nudges him with his elbow. "Where are my free weapons?"

"With the 500 ryo you owe me.

"Ugh..."

Notes:

Thank you for reading <3

Chapter 11: Of beans, card games, and submersions

Summary:

The little Root agent gets a name, and Kyoichiro plays some card games (after having a 'swim').

Also, the deer don't like Kyoichiro very much.

Notes:

TW: Innuendo from a child (yes from Kyoichiro)

Hello! Please enjoy!!

Here is my Twitter! I'll be more active on it now, so tune in for progress and drawings :)

https://x.com/ichigo_hime_ri?t=XRxmeC7qmvsVvEfcR3reQA&s=09

They name the little girl Mame, for bean, after she saves their dinner from being fibreless by growing the young string beans in the garden.

Of course, she doesn't respond to it at first.

"Mame."

"Your new name is Mame."

"Do you like that name?"

The girl stares, uncomprehending of any of the ways Yūta called out to her.

Kyōichirō sighs, getting up from his armchair where he was watching them from and then presses a finger to her chest.

"You will answer to the name 'Mame' from now on," He rephrases Yūta's words. "You must respond to it, understood?"

The girl finally nods.

"... What are my orders?" She asks in response.

Yūta is horrified. Does she only respond to things phrased as orders? Is that how it was?

Kyōichirō folds his arms across his front, and smiles. Yūta cannot comprehend why he would smile at all.

"Minato-san has partially subdued the tracking and killing part of the seal," Kyōichirō tells her. "you still won't be able to speak of any past operations or operatives, correct?"

The girl blinks.

"Answer."

"No sir."

"You are no longer stationed with Shimura Danzo. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"You answer to only five people. Those people are Namikaze Minato, Uchiha Fugaku, Tanaka Mitsuko, the matron of this orphanage, Takayanagi Kyōichirō, and Yūta-kun here. Understood?"

"...!" Yūta's head spins around to meet Kyōichirō's eyes to send him a desperate, silent message, but Kyo-nii doesn't even look in his direction.

What??

"Yes, sir."

"Your mission is to accompany Yūta-kun here as a bodyguard."

"Yes, sir."

"Kyō-nii!"

Kyōichirō presses his fingers to his lip and shushes him

Yūta is dumbfounded.

"The duration for this mission is indefinite," Kyōichirō iterates. "The role you take is as Yūta-kun's orphanage friend."

"Yes, sir."

"Please do as Yūta-kun tells you."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Yūta, please take her to eat lunch with the rest of the children. I have some errands to run."

"... Alright."

"Honestly," Kyōichirō mutters as he packs up his things to head out. "It's like playing role-play with children."

Yūta wishes this was a ninja roleplay.

 

***

 

"Hey, Mame," Yūta frowns as he spoons some rice into her bowl. "You can't just eat sauce. You won't feel full."

Mame stares at him, unblinking, then stabs her spoon into her bowl with a lot more force than necessary.

Yūta winces.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Baa-chan chuckles, realigning the girl's bowl in front of her. "Mame-chan is energetic today, as well."

'Energetic' is not the way Yūta would put it. 'Lethargic' would be more right.

Mame doesn't do anything but follow Yūta around (as per Kyo-nii's 'orders') and stare through his skull.

"I'll be heading out," Kyōichirō calls. "I won't be back for dinner, as I will be attending to some odd jobs, so please feel free to eat without me."

He's out the door as soon as baa-chan says bye.

"Kyo-nii hasn't been home much, recently," Himi mumbles through the fish in his mouth. Well, at least he has the sense to cover his mouth as he talks. "He's been really busy."

"Well, your Kyo-nii is a very mature kid," One of the younger matrons laugh. "I think everyone in the village has been helped out by him at least once! "

"I wonder why Kyo-nii didn't become a ninja," One of the children begin. "I think he'd do really well!"

"It'd let him live alone, too," Himi brings up. "But I think we'd miss him too much if he left..."

"I don't want Kyo-nii to leave us...!"

"Yūta, you're almost at that age, too," Baa-chan smiles. "But you're not going to the Academy, are you? Kyōichirō signed you up for that big school in the capital, right?"

"Mm," Yūta responds. "Himi and I are both going."

"You did the test for the scholarships a while back, right?" The matron asks, sitting down with them. "When are the letters coming?"

"It'll take a while, 'cus they don't use shinobi or anything," Himi says. "And a lot of the resources are getting used int he war, so..." He shrugs. "Dunno. Should be soon, though."

What would they do about Mame once Yūta gets sent to school, he wonders?

"Mame's a year younger, right?" The matron smiles. "It's a pity she can't go, though. She seems like she has a good head on her shoulders."

"It's stupid that girls can't go to school here," Himi grumbles. "Hacchan should have gone with us."

"Oh, about that," Hachi brings up. "Kyo-nii said they'd probably let me take the exam next year, so he's keeping me up with my studies."

"Huh?" Yūta asks, hopeful. "Why?"

"Dear Kyōichirō has sent an appeal to the Emperor."

Yūta almost chokes on his food.

"Directly to Mikado-sama?!" He exclaims. "Not the Daimyo who's running the schools in Fire Country?"

"Oh, he sent one to the Daimyo, alright," Baa-chan chuckles. "But no one likes that man very much either way, and he has very... Strict views on women..."

Ah, right. Baa-chan had history with the Daimyo. He was the son of the previous daimyo and a concubine, but the previous daimyo in question was both a dick and had once tried to buy her as a bride.

"I don't get it," Another matron furrows her brows. "Why can't Hachi-chan just be a homemaker? She's not a boy, she doesn't need an education. She can just do as her husband tells her."

Yūta's never really liked this matron. Every opinion that comes out of her mouth is not even hers. She comes to the orphanage patronisingly to brag to the other village girls and to men about her charity and how she's not like other women and can uphold 'womanly roles' like child-rearing better or whatever.

Even though he can feel some pity for her, he can't find it in himself to be fond of her. She genuinely seems to have no self-respect.

"Hush, Kaori-chan," Baa-chan shushes her. "The point isn't to force girls to go to school, it's to give them a chance to go if they wish to. No one's stopping them from being homemakers if they want to."

"Yeah, it's a new era, now," The first matron, Mimi, smiles. "I think it's a good thing."

"But women won't be able to make good decisions anyways," She argues. "We should be teaching that to these children."

Yūta rolls his eyes so hard that he swears he sees his brain.

"Kaori-chan," Baa-chan states sternly. Kaori freezes on the spot. "Please cease that unfair, unproven bias. You don't even know that for a fact."

"Just because a man says it doesn't mean it's right, you know," Mimi drawls sarcastically. "You don't have to agree just to be 'different' from other women. It's unseemly."

Kaori flushes bright red and keeps her mouth shut.

"Anyways," Hachi smiles sweetly, as if she hadn't heard Kaori at all. "I think it'll be fine. I have faith that Kyo-nii will succeed."

Indeed, Kyōichirō always got what he wanted.

 

***

 

The deer are restless.

Nara Shikakuni rests his back against the opened door to the engawa, shoji board forgotten in front of him.

Shikaku had trounced him once again, honestly…

"Good game."

Shikakuni wishes the boy would at least look a little smug about beating him, the jōnin commander, but alas. They weren't alike, so it wasn't logical to compare them.

"Have you been able to see any faces nowadays?" He asks, fully expecting a no, as usual.

It was unfortunate, really, that Shikaku had been born unable to recognize faces. The Yamanaka elders had even discreetly tried to ask if the boy had been cursed when they first realized he couldn't even pick out who his mother and father were.

Ridiculous. Especially to bring it up in a clan full of logicians and realists.

It was especially hard to recognize anyone in their clan for Shikaku, when all of them wore the exact same hairstyles and their colors were all a big, muddy mix of tan, brown, and green.

"Ah," Shikaku seems to realize something. "Recently, there was this kid…"

"…?!"

"It's not that I can see his face really well," Shikaku backtracks. "But his face… it looks like what a face should look like, I think. He has these really long lashes. If you told me to tell you what shape his eyes are, I couldn't tell you, though."

"Really?" Shikakuni tries to stop his jaw from dropping to the floor. And this brat hadn't told him?! "A kid… an academy student?"

"Nah," Shikaku replies. "Random kid who played shogi at the café."

"…?"

"He's good," Is all Shikaku says following that, but if that isn't already the biggest compliment ever from this boy…

"You should bring him over and let him meet the deer some time," Shikakuni suggests, because he needs to meet this kid. "Kids like deer right?"

Shikaku shrugs.

"Dunno about animals, but he definitely likes people. He's incredibly well-connected for a 10-year-old."

"Like?"

"Namikaze Minato and Hatake Sakumo have practically adopted him," Shikaku says, and Shikakuni's jaw really does drop this time. "Orochimaru has tea with him every week to discuss chakra and scientific theory with him or something, and he's friends with Inoichi, too."

That would be suspicious if Shikaku hadn't been speaking about it with a relaxed tone like that.

"Another round, old man?" Shikaku asks, changing the subject-- but probably not intentionally.

"I don't mind," Shikakuni responds, letting a young fawn butt its head into the crook of his arm as he blinks, already fascinated by some child he'd never met before. "But I think I'm starting to get distracted a little by the deer."

"…" Shikaku glances up at him, trying and failing to catalogue any sort of expression, instead eyeing his posture, and then looks over to the side. "… They're acting a little strange today, yeah."

"Mm."

"Isn't it telling us to follow it?"

"I suppose," Shikakuni looks at him. "Shall we?"

Shikaku nods, and gets up, and they both venture into the forest together.

"I hope the deer didn't eat someone again…"

As they thought, the deer only start moving after they do, and they're quickly led to where the Naka River flows from the Uchiha clan grounds to their Nara forest.

Huh?

There's some sort of mass floating down…

"… Kyōichirō?!" Shikaku's already rushing onto the river, feet seamlessly adjusting to the gentle river current.

Shikakuni doesn't think he's ever head Shikaku sound this panicked.

He's following Shikaku before he knows it, and when they close in…

Holy shit.

That is a whole person .

That is a whole person floating down the river. Face down.

"Is that a child?!" Shikakuni hisses, horrified. "Did he drown?!"

Shikaku reaches the child and fishes it out of the water by the scruff of their kimono.

"Kyōichirō, oi!" Shikaku lays the child on the river bank, flicking his hands to get rid of all the water before listening for breathing. "Hey, kid!"

There's no rise and fall of the chest, no audible noise.

"Kyōichirō!" Shikaku shakes the kid's body, but the only thing that can be heard is the squelching of water through the clothes.

Oh, god, this was the kid that Shikaku said he could recognize.

He was dying before Shikakuni got to meet him?

Of course, just as he thinks that, the boy's eyes shoot open.

"Kyo!"

The kid blinks, then sits up, looking incredibly sleepy for a child who was supposed to be energetic, around that age.

"…. Ah," The boy says, and it's not the voice of someone who's just drowned. Shikakuni ponders. Doesn't that mean the boy had held his breath all the way from the training ground (the closest opening to the river) till here? "Tch."

Did that kid just click his tongue at them??

Shikaku frowns.

"Why did you have to interrupt my submersion, Shikaku-dono?" The kid does the most unenergetic version of whining he's ever seen. "I was almost there…"

Submersion , the kid says, God….

"I thought you called these your 'swims', Kyōichirō," Shikaku's showing the most facial expression Shikakuni's ever seen on him. "Were you actually drowning yourself?"

The child's nose scrunches up minutely, barely enough to be perceptible, before it falls flat again.

That's horrifying.

This kid was flicking through emotions incredibly quickly.

Was he bipolar…?

"… Is this your father?" The kid asks, blatantly changing the subject. "You're his spitting image."

"Hey, hey," Shikakuni manages to speak up, raising his hands. "Don't drag me into this…"

"Greetings, Nara-sama. I'm Takayanagi Kyōichirō, from the Tanaka's Private Orphanage. Did the deer lead you here?" The boy shamelessly barrels on. "Huh. I'm surprised I wasn't eaten. Sakumo-san says the deer here eat humans."

"Hey…"

"You smell like smoke. Have you been smoking?"

Shikaku doesn't quite sigh, but he blink a little longer than usual.

"… The old man does," He relents. "He reeks of smoke all the time."

"Doesn't that make it easier for opponents to track him?" The boy asks, already squeezing water from his clothes. "Ah. I left my geta."

What kind of child wears geta nowadays?

"We can probably find some that fit you at the estate," Shikakuni tells the boy, already moving to pick him up. "You'll catch a cold at this rate."

"I thought I've told Shikaku-dono that I don't get sick."

What is that supposed to mean???

"You've never said that," Shikaku tells the boy, trying to squeeze out as much of the water as he could from what Takayanagi had left over on his kimono. "I'd remember."

"Ah," The boy doesn't even react to being flung over Shikakuni's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Then it must have been Sakumo-san."

"Wait back up," Shikakuni can already feel a headache coming on. "I think we need to go back to the part where you said this was a submersion."

"You're persistent," The boy says, in the flattest, most disinterested tone Shikakuni has ever heard in his life. And his son is Shikaku . "You don't need to worry about it, Nara-sama."

"Stop with that stuffy honorific."

"Mm."

!! The boy's brushing him off!

"Shikaku," Shikakuni bumps Takayanagi further up his shoulder as the child begins to slide like a limp doll. Why did this kid act like he had no bones? "Where do you go to find a brat more precocious than you?"

Shikaku shrugs, and simply goes to take Takayanagi from Shikakuni after seeing his father was struggling.

"… You're seriously getting old," His son comments, the little shit. "This kid isn't even heavy."

"You little shit," Shikakuni elbows his son. "Let your old man breathe. Jeez, I can't even exist without hearing you insult me."

"…"

The boy's eyes stare at the sky (or the trees, really), completely unblinking. It's giving him the heebie jeebies and it's more than a little creepy.

"We're here," Shikaku says. "You drifted seriously far into the forest for it to be this close, Kyo."

"Mm," The boy hums, and rolls out of Shikaku's arms, making Shikakuni's heart leap to his throat and landing with his feet  squarely on the ground. "Please excuse me."

He waddles forward in his soggy kimono, ignoring the deer who're butting their heads into his body.

Well, if the deer really hated him he would've been sent flying with the force…

Ah.The deer are trying to kill him. It's just not working.

Sage, where the heck did Shikaku find this kid?!

"This shogi board is lovely," The boy comments. "Who made it?"

'Who made it ', and not 'Where did you get it'. It's a strange choice of wording, especially when there are no well-known artisans in Konoha. Everything comes from the capital.

"… Shikaku did," Shikakuni responds. "We made him carve it as punishment for disappearing on us when he was 12."

Shikaku sighs.

"I never thought carving a shogi table could be so difficult. With just a kunai, too…"

"It's good work," Takayanagi says, and sits down, shuffling the cushion away so that the water in his clothes wouldn't soak right through it and pushes the table gently. "It's surprisingly difficult to make all four legs the same enough length so that the table doesn't wobble."

"You've made a table before?" Shikaku asks, already sat at the opposite end. Shikaku thinks his son doesn't even really register himself readying himself at the other side of the table-- it's like an automatic reaction, Shikakuni thinks, and he sits himself behind Shikaku to watch.

"Not in this life," Takayanagi responds.

"So never…?"

Kyōichirō hums, and from out of his wet kimono, pulls out a huge sealed plastic bag.

"You can say that."

"Ah, darling," Shikakuni yells into the house. "Could you get me a bottle of sake please?"

"Can't you get it yourself, you old lout?!" His wife's voice yells, but he hears the stomp-stomp-stomp of feet and there's a bottle of unopened sake in front of him in seconds, his wife sparing less than a glance at the soaking kid with them before going in, muttering something about 'these men…'

"Thank you darling! I love you!" Shikakuni yells into the house again.

"Fuck off!"

Shikakuni smiles. She's so lovely.

He doesn't miss the odd glance that Kyōichirō gives him, but the boy lets it roll of his shoulders easily enough.

Shikaku sits a little more comfortably on his cushion, shaking his head exasperatedly.

"I actually have a game prepared today," Kyōichirō says, and pulls a pack of playing cards out of the bag.  "It's the same set of cards we used last time."

"I imagine you could play a lot of different games with that set of cards," Shikaku says, then looks at Kyōichirō. "I know you say you don’t get sick and all, but don't you want to take that kimono off? It must be really annoying to move your arms in that. It's probably heavy."

"… Ah, trying to strip me so early on in our relationship," Kyōichirō comments, and Shikakuni chokes on his sake.

Shikaku doesn't even react, he just sighs even harder.

"Your jokes will get one of us arrested one day," Shikaku mutters. "As if the suicide commentary wasn't enough…"

Kyōichirō doesn't quite laugh, but Shikakuni can tell the weird exhale was something similar to one.

"I'm not joking when I say my ideal suicide is to die with a beautiful woman," Kyōichirō says as he shuffles off his kimono, leaving him with his white inner-garments-- the kimono underlayer and the loose pants. "Don't you think just the sound of it is lovely?"

Shikakuni is feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

He downs another shot of sake.

Shikaku scrunches his nose.

"… Why do you look like that," Shikaku mutters, leaning over to pull out the expandable edges of the shogi table. "It's disturbing."

And Shikakuni gets the sentiment. In no world did any child have the right to give such an… adult feeling-- especially in this case where he's dressed in soaked-sheer white garments sticking to his skin and hair glued to his glistening pale face.

What the heck, was he looking at one of the daimyo's underage concubines?!

The sort of atmosphere more suited for the red light district than for a pre-pubescent kid…!

It's disgusting how sculpture-pretty this kid was-- weren't kids supposed to have their ugly phases around this age?

"Are you secretly an adult in a child's body?" Shikakuni asks, not entirely joking.

"You tell me," Kyōichirō responds, the cryptic little shit. At the very least, the kid pulls the lopsided-part of his kimono up, covering his exposed shoulder again. "Apologies for my indecency. I didn't predict I would end up playing board games in the presence of others."

Shikakuni sighs and takes off his own haori to put over Kyōichirō's back.

"Oh. Thank you very much."

"It's no problem, kid."

It's strange. The kid wasn't shivering or cold at all. In fact-- he was warm to the touch.

"I don't know the name of this game, but," Kyōichirō begins, shuffling the cards in his hands. "It involves a lot of lying."

"So it's not a game of strategy?" Shikaku asks, pouring a cup of hot tea from their pitcher to give to Kyōichirō. "Careful with your hands, the cup is hotter than you think."

"Thank you," Kyōichirō bows shallowly. So polite for a precocious kid. "I wouldn't say that. You do need some strategy."

"Go on."

"For this game the entire deck of cards is dealt out," Kyōichirō begins, halving the cards by placing them flat on the table and sliding them so that they're of equal height. "So it'd be 54 total cards divided by two, so 27 each."

"Got it."

"Please check you have the right number," Kyōichirō says as he slides the deck over. "The aim of the game is to lose all your cards."

"That's 27, right."

"Good. Open your cards only to yourself, alright?" Kyōichirō is an insanely eloquent 10-year-old(?). "What we'll be doing is placing cards into the centre of the table, face down, and saying out loud what it is."

"Even though we're not opening it?"

"Correct. The twist is that for this game you can legally bluff or lie about the card you placed down. I could say I put down three aces when in reality I haven't. The opposing player can then either call the bluff if they think it is one-- if they're right, then the person who put the cards down has to take the whole deck. If they're wrong, then they have to take the whole central deck into their hand. The maximum number of cards you can put down each turn is 3."

Shikakuni blinks.

That sounds simple enough.

"How will we decide who goes first?"

"Paper scissors rock."

Shikakuni blinks.

"Okay," Shikaku agrees easily enough. "Pa-per, scissors… rock!"

"Aww," Kyōichirō sighs. "You go first then, Shikaku-dono."

Shikakuni settles in for the ride.

 

***

 

"Two of spades."

"Challenge."

"It wasn't a bluff."

"Hah…"

"They're still at it?"

Riko sits down next to him, a fresh pot of tea in the tray in her hands.

"Yeah," Shikakuni had already drank more than a fair share of alcohol, so he was now drinking juice.

At this point, Riko had already dried Kyōichirō's kimono, forced him into a clean one while it was drying, and made Shikakuni force-feed them lunch and afternoon tea snacks.

"How long has it been?"

"Around 3 and a half hours?" Shikakuni estimates. "They can't seem to win."

"You think?" Riko asks.

"Huh?" Shikakuni turns to her, and she lays her head down in his lap. "You think it's something else."

"I think Taka-kun is purposely losing…"

Shikakuni furrows his brows, brushing his fingers through her hair that's spread across his legs.

"2 of spades."

"Bluff."

"… You're right."

Shikaku takes the pile of 10 cards.

"2 of spades," Takayanagi says, placing down a card

Shikaku clicks his tongue, then pauses.

"... Bluff."

And Kyōichirō finally, lets his flat expression pull away for a moment.

"Correct," The boy smiles. "You've got a read on me now, hm?"

Oh.

Oh .

This wasn't a game.

This was a lesson .

A lesson taught to Shikaku by a 10 year old.

"You're still holding back," Shikaku comments. He doesn't seem all that agitated-- but he's definitely determined. "I can't beat you at anything but shogi sometimes."

He only beat Takayanagi at shogi sometimes ?

Takayanagi's smile doesn't falter, and he places down his last two cards.

"2 aces."

"..." Shikaku considers. "You win."

Kyōichirō smiles.

"Indeed I do."

"Play me again."

"Are you sure?" Takayanagi asks, taking back all the cards and shuffling them in his hands. "It'll be harder this time."

He hasn't seen Shikaku look this annoyed or motivated before.

"Very well. Please--"

"Kyōichirō!"

Shikakuni looks over and his wide immediately sits up straight to get a good look at whoever it was that had stupidly come into their clan estate.

"Minato-san," Kyōichirō greets. "You're trespassing, you know?"

Ah, so it was Minato, appearing at their engawa in a shunshin so fast that Shikakuni doesn't think he'll ever see anything that measures up. And it is a shunshin, not the Hiraishin that Minato is famous for.

In Minato's hands is a pair of children's geta.

Minato has been in the Nara forest before, and for some reason, the deer don't try anything with him. Riko says that they're scared of him, but Shikakuni doesn't get it. The boy looks like a puppy.

"Do you know how worried we were when we found your geta by the river?!" The boy screams. "Fugaku said they'd been searching for you for 4 hours!"

"Oh dear," Takayanagi says, though his tone is flat. "I apologize."

Shikakuni doesn't think he's ever seen the sunshine boy look this harrowed. The blonde's eyes are rimmed red like he'd be crying, and his hair's a mess.

"We were so worried you actually drowned this time!" Minato cries. "What do I even do with you?!"

"Ah," Takayanagi smiles, as if he'd heard something particularly amusing. "Maybe I should have tried a bit harder to die. Then your worries would actually be warranted."

Minato reels back, hurt, horrified, scared .

"Don't say things like that," Minato whispers, through it sounds like he's trying to raise his voice. "We were seriously worried…!"

Shikakuni can see Shikaku taking his eyes off Minato to look back at Takayanagi.

"… Kyōichirō," He begins. "I don't think that's how he wanted you to respond."

Aside from the incredibly worrying contents of this conversation-- Shikaku, noticing social cues? Shikaku ? Maybe the sun would rise from the west, tomorrow.

Takayanagi tilts his head to the side, thinking.

"Apologies," The boy says, though it doesn't sound completely sincere. "I should have noticed that jest wouldn't quite slide."

"You aren't supposed to mean jokes, Taka-kun," Riko speaks up.

"Ah," And the following response chills Shikakuni to the very core. "Then I suppose we simply have different senses of humor."

The expression on Minato's face could only be described as frustration , but anyone could tell it was something more than just that. Something too complicated to describe in a single word.

"… Pack up your cards, Kyōichirō," Minato says (demands, really with that soft voice of his). "I'll take you back to Tanaka obaa-san."

Takayanagi doesn't provoke Minato any further, and does as he's told.

"Thank you for hosting me, Shikakuni-sama, Riko-sama, Shikaku-dono." The amicable smile doesn't leave his face, even as he bows. "Let's play again some other time."

"I'll go and grab your kimono for you," Riko says, re-entering the house.

Shikakuni burrows his hands into his kimono sleeves.

"Come visit again any time," He settles on, though there's a lot he wants to say-- wants to ask. "The deer don't seem to mind you too much."

Shikaku just nods at the boy.

Riko hands Takayanagi his kimono, and Minato brings the boy out of the estate wordlessly.

"… Does Taka-kun try that sort of thing often?" Riko asks Shikaku once the two are out of sight.

"Ah," Shikaku confirms. "He was soaking when I first met him, too. He'd just left the river."

"So he is swimming, and not trying to drown himself?"

Shikaku contemplates that.

"I'm not sure," He replies. "I think it could be either. He doesn't care whether he lives or dies, more like."

Riko looks distressed, tired-- and Shikakuni remembers that her younger brother had also taken his life by drowning.

"I'm sure he won't actually be able to," Shikaku says. "We always manage to stop him, after all."

"But you were almost too late this time," Shikakuni brings up. "He seriously could have died this afternoon."

Shikaku shakes his head.

"He tries, at least," And the phrasing is what catches his attention. "He can't. He fails every attempt."

"Elaborate."

"Whenever you 'loses consciousness', his body automatically seems to kick into survival mode," And those words were emphasized for a reason, Shikakuni knows. "He doesn't breathe, but he's fine. His body also somehow manages to regulate his temperature."

"So that's why he was warm when I touched his shoulders earlier."

Shikaku nods, and seems to choose his next words carefully.

"… I think Kyōichirō is never actually unconscious," He begins. "He's really aware of what's going on around him all the time. That's why he immediately called me by name when I fished him out the river."

"Then why were you panicking so much?"

Shikaku turns his head away.

"It just scares me. It doesn't stop scaring me, but I think I'll get over it eventually."

Shikakuni and Riko share a glance.

He doesn't know whether to be glad his son is finally widening his range of emotions or not.

"… I hope he gets the help he needs soon," Riko settles on.

"I doubt it," Shikaku's voice is firm. "I don't think it's something that can just be fixed ."

Shikakuni glances over, and sighs. Shikaku should have just let the comment go, but that was wishful thinking on his part.

"I think you'd have better luck taking Sakumo-san to therapy than trying to get anything out of Kyōichirō if he isn't willing to give it."

Shikakuni winces.

Ah, he really needs another drink.

Notes:

The word 'submersion' is the same kanji from the time I used it previously: meaning 'suicide via drowning'.
Thank you for reading <3

Chapter 12: People who have Problems

Summary:

Some talks, a meeting, and an encounter

Notes:

Have a new chapter!

 Minato wasn't speaking to him.

He can sense the boy buzzing about in his peripheral, checking in on him anxiously, but he isn't speaking to him.

Annoying.

Now that he thinks about it, none of the adults he'd picked up have been speaking to him much, either, outside of greetings, but that can be attributed the fact that the war efforts have kicked up again.

"Hah…" Kyōichirō sighs. Why couldn't they do peace talks properly ? Was it really so hard to socialize for these higher-ups?

He states up at the sky, and deeply wishes for a smoke.

He doesn't think he's ever cursed age-restriction laws so deeply before.

He rolls across the grass, trying to take his mind off of the burning desire for tobacco.

Kyōichirō should go visit a tea house.

Hopefully, he could find an alcohol-infused desert or a smoky snack similar enough to tobacco to satisfy this craving.

(Something in the back of his mind points out that this was an addiction and he should do something about it, but Kyōichirō tells that part of hjs brain to be quiet.)

He gets up from his picnic mat and walks back into the central area of the village.

He ends up at the usual izakaya.

The bell tinkles as he opens the door, and the man behind the counter energetically welcomes him in.

Kyōichirō bows shallowly and finds a seat in the corner of the store, but not before discreetly flicking his eyes around and scanning the room entirely.

Ah-ah. Someone is watching him.

"I'd like these smoked senbei and a pot of green tea, please," Kyōichirō tells the waitress. "Ah, but with two cups."

"Understood," The waitress that Inoichi had been so fond of (he'd already forgotten her name-- for some reason, it simply made sense that Inoichi was interested in someone so boring ) smiles at him. "I'll bring those out for you right away."

Kyōichirō hands the menu to her, lets himself slouch, then sighs. Deeply.

"Now, what has you so troubled, child?"

Mm. Kyōichirō tries his very best not to make a discernible expression, but it's proving very difficult. He'd known that Orochimaru would approach him-- he could see the man seated at the other side of the café and he could sense the man's gaze on him the entire time. He just wished he didn't .

"Orochimaru-dono," Kyōichirō greets. "What a coincidence."

"I'm not here to read your micro-expressions," Orochimaru pulls out the chair across from him, and Kyōichirō resigns himself to his fate. "Minato told me about the incident."

Kyōichirō raises a brow.

"Has he?"

Orochimaru looks like he's about to strangle him.

"Cease that pointless dragging of yours, Kyōichirō,"  The man doesn't-quite-snap at him. "I've no patience for it."

"Apologies."

Kyōichirō cuts back on the snark, but it should be obvious to the man across from him that whatever information he wants, he'd have to force it from him.

"Like pulling teeth," Orochimaru mutters. "What possessed you to drown yourself in the lake last week?"

"I wasn't aware that it was something out of the ordinary, Orochimaru-dono," Kyōichirō responds. "I thought the entire village knows by now it's a running spectacle to watch the KPF interrupt my river exploration."

Orochimaru leans back in his chair, hands demurely placed on the table as the waitress places the tea and crackers on the table.

Wisely, the waitress leaves quickly after sensing the atmosphere.

As polite as ever, Kyōichirō moves to pour Orochimaru a cup of tea first.

"You aren't usually trying to die, as far as I'm aware," Orochimaru replies. "Usually, you claim to be swimming."

"And I haven't uttered a single lie."

"So you admit you were trying to submerge yourself last week?"

Kyōichirō crosses his arms, and taps his finger on his arm-- on purpose, he's annoyed, and he hopes Orochimaru realises.

Ah, he really, really wants a smoke.

 

***

 

The audacity.

Takayanagi Kyōichirō doesn't not even bother to hide his annoyance.

What an obnoxiously precocious child.

"I was trying to die, I will admit that," Kyōichirō responds, and finally releases that annoying tapping hand from his crossed arms.

And the answer strikes Orochimaru, it does.

He supposes it should have been obvious, he should have at least expected it, with all the cornering he's doing and all the blaring red signs, but it catches him off-guard, still.

With a response that is as sure and definite like concrete, what is one even supposed to say in response?

Kyōichirō reaches to take a cracker from the wooden bowl, and he puts it in his mouth.

The only thing that Orochimaru can hear is the crack of the senbei breaking between Kyōichirō's lips.

"… Why?"

It comes out of his mouth with nary a thought.

Kyōichirō glances back up at him again, licking the remnants of the sticky seasoning from his fingertips.

Somehow, he manages to make the gesture look graceful.

"Why do I want to kill myself?" Kyōichirō asks, as if it's the easiest thing to talk about.

Orochimaru doesn't reply, but the child gets the message.

He supposes the child's intelligence is one of the only things that stop Orochimaru from stringing him up by his toenails.

"…" Kyōichirō eyes shift away, tongue darting out from between his lips as he considers how to answer the question.

Orochimaru waits.

Waiting, he can do.

The boy puts his hands down onto his lap, and only then do his dark-- not even dark, pitch-black eyes make contact with his. Unwavering, unshaking.

"...Well," Finally, he replies, the boy's rare smile surfacing once again. "It'd be no fun to tell you so easily."

 

***

 

"Thank you for the dango," Young Kyōichirō bows politely as he walks away, bag in hand.

"What a polite kid," The butcher sighs. "Unlike the kid at my house…"

"I heard the kids are going around spreading rumors that Kyōichirō's a vampire again,"  The fruit stall vendor sighs. "Poor boy."

"I dunno," The tea stall owner mutters. "He asks permission to enter every stall…"

"But I've seen him eat garlic!" An off-duty waitress replies. "He stomachs it just fine!"

"… What blood would he drink if he was, though? Animal blood?"

"I mean, I guess??"

"He's not a vampire!"

The mousey-looking snack store vendor speaks up.

"… I think I've seen him bite one of Uchiha-ku's cats before," He begins. "Though it was dark and I can't say for sure…"

" What ?!"

"The kids at the orphanage also say he never sleeps," Another vendor chimes in. "Isn't that strange??"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"But what if he's actually a vampire…?"

"… Let's stop this conversation before we figure out more than we're supposed to."

 

***

 

"Have you seen Kyōichirō?" Fugaku asks Iroha. "It's been too quiet recently."

"You mean quiet these last three days ," Iroha rolls his eyes. What a drama queen. "Dunno, I haven't seen the kid. Last time was last week, when he came to get maintenance on the bow."

Fugaku sighs long-sufferingly.

"… Are you looking for Takayanagi-san?"

Iroha looks over the counter.

His son, Inabi, is standing there, a stack of swords he's organizing in hand.

"Yes," Fugaku nods. "Have you seen him?"

Inabi clicks his tongue, and Iroha has to stop himself from laughing. He only makes that face when he can't decide if he likes or hates another kid.

"I saw him at the tea house with Orochimaru-san just as they were leaving this afternoon," Inabi scrunches his nose. "He looked…" Inabi pauses, face going slack. "Annoyed. I don't think I've ever seen him look annoyed. Not like, regular annoyed, but mad annoyed."

Iroha blinks.

"Huh," Fugaku murmurs. "That kid can get mad?"

Inabi squints at him.

"Exactly what do you think Takayanagi-san is ?"

"An alien."

Inabi sighs, like Fugaku's the child and he's the adult.

"Don't say things that don't make sense, Fugaku-sama."

Iroha can't help it-- he bursts out laughing.

"Be quiet, Iroha," Fugaku snaps. "Thanks for telling me, kid."

"You're welcome."

Fugaku leaves with considerable speed.

"He's embarrassed," Iroha snickers.

Inabi rolls his eyes.

"Why are all the adults around me like this…"

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

 

***

 

"Hey, kid."

Fugaku finds Kyōichirō where Shikaku said his usual haunt was.

Takayanagi Kyōichirō looks up at him, just long enough to be polite, then looks back at the book in his hands.

"Hello, Fugaku-dono."

Fugaku sits on the picnic mat beside him, and Kyōichirō makes a resined look towards the sky and then pours him a cup of tea.

He wasn't sure if this kid knew how to make polite facial expressions or not. No. Actually, now that he's thinking about it, he thinks Kyōichirō is just comfortable enough with him to let him know he's annoyed on purpose.

"Do you have business with me today?" Kyōichirō asks, handing him the cup. "I don't think I've committed any felonies as of late."

Fugaku accepts the tea.

"I heard you were pretty upset after you left the tea house with Orochimaru-sama."

The kid looks at him with the blandest look he's seen yet.

"Fugaku-san," He begins. "Do you have people spying on me?"

"What? No. I just met Inabi. He said he passed by you two in the afternoon."

"I see."

Kyōichirō doesn't continue, so Fugaku does.

"So what happened?"

"Nothing of note, really," Kyōichirō says. "I was just thinking that the people around me have been overly nosy and more trouble than they're worth."

Fugaku guesses that 'people' are Minato and Orochimaru.

But, curious, the way he phrases it.

"So," Fugaku begins. "What sort of people are worth keeping around?"

Kyōichirō closes his book, then looks at him, right in the eyes.

He wonders what Kyōichirō knows about his clan's sharingan, and whether he's ignorant or fearless.

"… I don't think it's an answer most people want to hear," Kyōichirō finally says.

"Let's hear it anyway."

Kyōichirō hums.

"Interesting people."

"That's," Vague, "A very broad concept."

"Is it?" Kyōichirō asks. His face is like a steel mask.

"Then," Fugaku pushes. "Give me an example of the sort of people you think are interesting. What sort of people do you like?"

Kyōichirō looks at him in the eyes again, and this time, it seems like he's prodding for more information from him than before.

"… Problematic people," The boy finally answers. "I only like people with problems."

"But all people have problems," Fugaku argues.

"Then it's people who I consider to have problems," Kyōichirō opens his book again. "Peole with entertaining problems."

Problematic people…

"… Like Danzō?" Fugaku asks, contemplating. "The Hokage? The daimyō? They're plenty problematic."

"Not the daimyō," But Kyōichirō smiles. "But right with the first two."

Fugaku furrows his brows.

"Explain."

"Well," Kyōichirō's smile gets wider. It's unsettling. "Curious, Fugaku-dono?"

"I am," Fugaku honest, at least. "I like understanding things I don't understand."

"The woe of man," Kyōichirō murmurs. "The daimyō is boring.  It's easy to understand what he's thinking. Everything about him is so transparent-- it's boring ."

"So you like the unknown."

"You could say that," Kyōichirō says. "Ah, recently my favorite person has been Danzō-dono."

Fugaku's brain is doing cartwheels and he still can't wrap his head around it.

"Didn't he try to kidnap you a few times?"

"Ah. He did."

"You don't have anything against that?"

"It's annoying," Kyōichirō nods. "But it's a good sort of annoying."

There's good annoying and bad annoying…?

"If I put it simply," Kyōichirō continues. "It's amusing to see the man being so emotional."

" Emotional ."

"Indeed," Kyōichirō affirms. "Think about it. I have so many influential figure by me. Someone is bound to notice if I go missing. It'd definitely become an incident-- but he still tries."

Fugaku nods. He'd been thinking about that, too. He understands Kyōichirō's use, but why did it have to be him?

"It's because of spite , Fugaku-dono," Kyōichirō laughs. "Like a teenaged boy, he acts out of anger. It's out of retaliation, because he simply doesn't like me . Isn't that laughable?"

Fugaku doesn't see why it's funny , per se, but he sees the way Kyōichirō is thinking, now. Probably.

"Angry people are the most interesting," Kyōichirō tells him. "Who knows what people do when they're emotional?"

"… What makes the daimyō uninteresting, then? I don't know what he's thinking most of the time."

Kyōichirō contemplates his answer, but responds with an impressive cohesion.

"I think it's not that you don't know what he's thinking, but that you don't want to understand him," Kyōichirō tells him. "Think about what drives him."

"Power?"

"It's lust, " Kyōichirō says. "Lust for women. Drunkenness off of power-- and an angry, angry inferiority complex. He struggles to find worth in himself so he must have other people do it." Kyōichirō tells him, and it makes so much sense. "Remember, he has been an underdog his entire life. Second son. Second candidate for ruling. The second husband of the wife. Second. Always second."

"An inferiority complex," Fugaku repeats. "I've never looked at it that way."

"He's uninteresting and predictable," Kyōichirō wraps up his point. "I can even predict what he's going to do next."

"Do tell."

"His authority has been slipping," Kyōichirō says. "He doesn't have Mikado-sama's favour. The forces under him are beginning to desert. How do you think he will get the power he loses?"

"… By marrying power."

"Indeed. I suppose it will either be the Hyuga clan or the Uchiha clan," Kyōichirō says. "Whoever the daimyō has dirt on, I suppose. No clan would marry off their daughters willingly now that the political scene on the daimyō's end is in shambles, so it would have to be blackmail disguised as an 'arranged marriage'."

Fugaku is speechless.

"Ah," Kyōichirō looks up. "That is, if his concubines don't murder him by…" Kyōichirō looks at the sky. "…Next month, I suppose."

"Why do you think they will?"

Kyōichirō scoffs.

"Do you think the Tsuchikage wouldn't have found some way to buy any of them off?" He smiles, and Fugaku feels that all of a sudden, he has many puzzle pieces in his hand.

Unfortunately, he can't see the full picture.

But...

There exist people who can .

 

***

 

"He said he it would 'be no fun' to tell me the answer so easily."

They're all huddled in Sakumo's house, in his living room, and tea on the table slowly going cold.

Sakumo blinks tiredly. He'd just come back from helping out at the border, and he's dead on his feet. Minato doesn't look any better-- in fact, with those swollen red eyes and the suffocating doom and gloom around him, he looked even worse off.

What had this kid been doing? He hadn't even left the village at all. Last he heard, the Hokage was trying to toss genin at him.

"He hasn't been eating much lately, either," Minato mumbles. "I've been watching, but he doesn't eat as much as he does when we all eat with him."

"Has he been telling you guys that he doesn't get sick, too?" Shikaku asks. "He said he did."

"He did tell me that," Sakumo confirms. "I haven't actually understood what he meant by that, yet."

Orochimaru sips his tea a bit more loudly than strictly necessary, and they all turn to look at him.

"Kyōichirō can manipulate the circulation of temperature in his body, so that's why he doesn't get sick," He tells them. "Minato and I found that out when we got him to try the chakra control leaf exercise."

"Manipulating his body temperature," Inoichi grumbles. "Of-fucking-course the kid can do that. Next you'll tell me he can adjust his heart beat, too!"

Sakumo sighs, and places a hand on Inoichi's shoulder.

"Sorry to break it to you, Yamanaka--"

"Seriously?!"

Sakumo smiles, but he's dying inside.

"We found out why animals sit on his chest when he's lying around even though they avoid him when he's walking past…."

"Speaking of which, those rumors about Kyōichirō going around biting Uchiha-ku cats…"

Fugaku buries his head in his hands.

"Please." He begs. "Stop. I am already haunted by the fact we did actually find canine puncture wounds on the cats' necks. Stop."

"…"

"We are veering way off topic!" Minato yells. "How do we get Kyo-kun to talk to us about his problems?!"

The only response to that is silence.

"… Minato," Inoichi begins after a moment. "I quite frankly think he would die before revealing his hand to us. You'll have to pry any answers you want from his cold, post-mortem hands."

The blonde slumps into the ground in defeat.

"Just where do these trust issues come from?" The boy wails. "He should have no history of trauma or anything like that!"

"And you know that because…?"

"…"

"So you stalked through his official records and hung around the orphanage for extended periods of time like a creep."

Minato doesn't reply to that.

"Enough," Shikaku declares decisively. "I understand we're all worried, but we won't be able to force Kyōichirō to talk. We should just watch him a bit more carefully."

And there's nothing they can say to refute that, so it quietens down.

"I'll go heat up this… lukewarm tea again," Orochimaru scowls at the cup in his hands and picks up the entire teapot.

"Ah, thank you."

"Inoichi, are you out on border patrol next week?"

"Mm," The man agrees. "It's just me, though. Chōza might join later, but the big brain is probably gonna stay behind for now."

Because they all knew that Shikaku's father's health was failing, and Shikaku would need to take up the seat, stat, if the man decided to kick the bucket sooner than they needed him to.

"Any news on the daimyō, recently?"

Fugaku makes a face.

"No one likes talking about that man."

Inoichi coughs.

"You mean, we don't gossip about that esteemed individual ."

"Pfft."

"I actually heard that people have been after his head, recently," Sakumo pipes up, poking the limp body of Minato that's on the floor. "I mean, more than usual."

Inoichi raises a brow as Shikaku prepares to zone out, crossing his legs on the cushion.

"…" Sakumo avoids their stares but ultimately relents. "… And by that I mean Kyōichirō has been after his neck."

"????"

Fugaku's head hits the table.

"Why does everything end up leading back to that kid…?"

"Yeah," Sakumo sighs. "First ROOT, and now the daimyō? The next victim is the Emperor."

"Maybe we should tone down the blasphemy…"

"Wait wait wait," Inoichi holds out a hand, his other on his head. Sakumo gets it. Whenever they talk about Kyōichirō, the headaches will only come, never leave. They never leave. "What's this about ROOT?!"

Of course, right on cue, Orochimaru walks in and the entire tea set slips out of his hands.

" What?! "

 

***

 

The porcelain is safe, thanks to Sakumo's superb reflexes-- of which was sliding the blob that used to be Minato across the squeaky clean wood panels and making the boy catch everything on his flak jacket.

"Guys, I think Minato's growing mushrooms…"

Sakumo looks over, sighs, and nudges Minato with his foot.

"Kid, stop making it all humid and dark in that corner," He scolds. "Who do you think has to clean it up?"

Shikaku raises a brow.

"It's only humid because you used him as a tea rag."

Sakumo sighs again.

"You keep sighing like that and your soul is going to come out."

"Are you my mother?"

"Men," Shikaku calls out. "Shouldn't we be doing something about Danzō-sama?"

"Agreed," Orochimaru murmurs. The poor man looks exhausted. They couldn't get any answers out of him about his reaction, though it seemed like he had been willing to share. "Kyōichirō is in danger, that stupid child."

Sakumo nods slowly. He'd be more inclined to think it's Danzō who's in danger, seeing as Kyoichio has shown no weaknesses so far as physical strength, mental strength, and connections go, but he supposes some concern is warranted. 

"I don't think we can do much about Danzō without upsetting Kyōichirō," Fugaku says.

"What? Why?"

"Well, I mean," Inoichi begins, scratching the back of his head. "He doesn't seem to like people intervening in his business."

Sakumo raises a brow.

"He came to my house to avoid getting kidnapped, once."

"It's probably just in dire circumstances, isn't it?"

"Slow down, you guys," Fugaku grunts. "I meant he doesn't dislike Danzō."

"????"

"Who doesn't dislike Danzō?"

Orochimaru stares at him like he wants to crack his head open and peer inside.

Fugaku clears his throat.

"I talked to him," He tells the lot of them. "He said, and I quote: 'Danzō is my favorite person', end quote."

" What ."

Fugaku cracks his neck.

"I dunno if you lot noticed," Fugaku starts. "But that kid has a really twisted personality."

Sakumo winces.

"Now that's…." Not untrue. "We could check the phrasing on that."

"You can only help people that want to be helped," Fugaku says. "And that kid doesn't want to be helped. In fact, I reckon he's having the time of his life right now."

Shikaku leans back on the sofa and closes his eyes.

"I hate that kid," He says, not completely honestly. "What a drag."

"I suppose that applies to his swimming habit, too," Sakumo agrees. "He'll come to us when he wants help."

" If he wants it," Inoichi very unhelpfully corrects.

"That child did say he'd tell us if we did our own digging," Orochimaru says.

"Good luck with that," Fugaku says, getting up. "He probably meant if you made it interesting , and Amaterasu knows the standards the kid has for interesting . I'm going to the bathroom."

"What is that supposed to mean," Sakumo mutters as Fugaku leaves the living area.

Shiaku buries his face in one of the couch cushions.

"My brain hurts."

Yeah, Sakumo thinks faintly. His whole body hurts.

"Let's have this conversation again another time," Orochimaru stands. "I have matters to attend to."

"Alright."

"See you."

Jeez, Sakumo looks over at Minato in the corner. That poor kid.

 

***

 

Her hair is the color of a garnet.

"Hey, aren't you the kid Minato has been depressed about recently?"

It's lovely.

"Who might you be?" Kyōichirō asks.

The girl blinks at him, then grins.

"Uzumaki Kushina!" Her voice is bright. "I'm Minato's girlfriend, dattebane!"

In the sun, it looks like she's caught fire.

Gorgeous , Kyōichirō can’t help but think.

Notes:

Thank you for reading <3

I have a drawing of Kyoichiro from the last chapter on my Twitter

I hope you guys enjoyed!

Chapter 13: Moving fast, moving faster

Summary:

Kyoichiro and Kushina.
Kyoichiro and Sakumo.
And at last, Kyoichiro and his lovely, lovely Imu.
The plot is finally kicking in! Thank you all for waiting!!!

Notes:

I think it's been a while since the last update, sorry! I can't even tell if this is longer or shorter than the other chapters cus I keep splitting parts into different (unpublished) chapters. I also added dates (cus I realised I forgot them!!!!) in the previous chapters (in the flashbacks) so that should make the timeline just a bit more clear!

Also, fun fact!!
Kyoichiro was actually made before this fanfic was made! He's part of my work-in progress original novel (much better written than this ff lmao) as a side character, but I toned him down and removed some character traits from his 'canon' version to fit him more snugly here, but it's sorta not working and I'm writing those canon bits in without noticing and publishing it 💀

I can't go back now, I guess, so this fic is going to take a bit of a turn, I'm sorry!! I'll try my best to fix any inconsistencies in previous chapters;;;

August, 2016

 

This thing called 'love', Kyoichiro finds, comes easily to him.

Ah, but it wasn't as if all of this 'love' was on the same scale, no, he knew that much, but his affections came like a tidal wave, and sometimes they stayed, and sometimes they disappointed.

"Sensei," Takamine begins, leaning his back against the railing that he had his elbows rested on. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

Kyoichiro looks at him and squashes the butt of his cigarette on the railing.

"I have," He replies.

"Who?"

Kyoichiro smiles.

"A lot of people."

Takamine sighs, leaning away from the railing again and turning to face the same way as him. He can probably sense he isn't going to get a straight answer out of him.

"… I love Mirin."

Kyoichiro hums. He hadn't thought the boy would admit it so quickly.

"Love?" He asks. "Not 'like'?"

" Love ," Takamine replies. "Why, do you think that teenagers don't know love?"

"I never said that," Kyoichiro replies mildly. "I was just curious about your wording."

Takamine eyes him warily before he continues.

"… You're not curious about why?"

"Not particularly," Kyoichiro responds. "Who needs a reason to fall in love?"

"…"

"Why?" Kyoichiro's smile widens just a little as he looks at Takamine again. "Are you looking for counseling?"

"No." The boy replies immediately.

Kyoichiro huffs out a little laugh.

"That's what I thought."

"… So," The boy begins again. He seems to consider what to say more carefully than before. "Why did you start smoking?"

Oh?

"Your questions are getting better, hm?" Kyoichiro replies, lighting a new joint. "You might think it's a stupid reason."

Takamine leans closer, uncaring of the smell that might catch on his uniform, invested.

"Tell me anyway."

"…" Kyoichiro takes a long drag of the cigarette before replying. "There was this woman in the smoking area near where I lived."

"And…?"

"That's it," Kyoichiro smiled. "I started smoking because I fell head over heels."

"… I didn't think you were the type to say things like that."

"Things like what?" Kyoichiro questions. "Things like falling in love?"

Takamine nods.

"It's just honesty," Kyoichiro looks into the distance. "I don't lie that often."

"Yeah, because you just dodge questions."

Kyoichiro shrugs, and Takamine sighs.

"So you started smoking so that you could join her in the smoking booth," Takamine confirms, slowly.

"Yes."

"How old were you?"

Kyoichiro smiles, and meets Takamine's eyes.

"I was 16."

 

***

 

"Your hair…." The boy whispers, eyes wide.

Kushina's walls go up.

She knows Minato likes this kid, but kids are mean.

"It's like a flame," He says. "… It's spectacular."

… Oh.

"… Thanks," Kushina replies, then lets herself smile.

The child blinks, then folds his hands a little further into his kimono sleeves.

"My name is Takayanagi Kyoichiro," He introduces himself. "It's nice to meet you, Uzumaki-san."

"Just Kushina is fine, dattabane!" She slaps him on the shoulder, and he inches away, but with an amused smile on his face. "You're a polite kid!"

"You're Minato-san's partner, you say?" Kyoichiro asks. "He's spoken about you."

"All good things, I hope!"

"Of course," The boy replies amicably. "Do you have business with me?"

Kushina plops down on the mat beside him, red hair flying upwards as she falls.

"Not particularly."

The boy takes that answer without complaint and just turns to fill a cup of tea for her.

"It's my special blend," He tells her. "I can't guarantee the taste, as it comes out different every time, but please enjoy."

"You talk like Fugaku-chan," Kushina complains. "Why do you talk like we're in a business meeting?"

"Everything is a business if you want it to be," Kyoichiro replies, bringing his own cup to his lips. "So? Did Minato send you?"

Kushina huffs.

"I already said I don't have business with you dattebane!" She exclaims. "I just happened to be passing by!"

Kyoichiro looks at her, at their deserted surroundings, then back at her, and raises a brow.

"Ugh...!" Kushina scrunches her nose. Annoyance wells up in her stomach. "Fine! I was curious about what you looked like so I came!"

"Fufu," The boy laughs like he's a smug 60-year-old man. "That's what I thought."

Kushina crosses her arms.

"Ya'know, little kids aren't supposed to be this obnoxious!"

"And adults aren't supposed to be so immature," the boy replies, opening his book. "So it really depends on what you define as an adult and what you define as a child."

Kushina tries desperately to shove down the anger in her throat.

She can't even say he's being rude, because there isn't a single flaw in his polite language or tone to pick on.

The boy simply continues to read his book, practically ignoring her existence as he does so.

Why does Minato like this kid?!

"… Minato's been depressing lately," She finally relents.

"Ah," The boy hums, as if it has no relevance to him. "How unfortunate."

"Could you stop the suicide attempts?" Kushina tries, and then it dampens her mood even further, because right , the boy in front of her is regularly trying to end his own life. "It makes Minato sad y'know."

The boy finally looks at her again.

"Are you in love with him?"

The question comes out of nowhere.

"Wh- Wha-," Kushina feels her face heat up. "What are you talking about all of a sudden?!

Kyoichiro tilts his head to the side.

"I just asked you if you were in love with him," He repeats.

Kushina's hands fly to her face, trying and probably failing to hide her tomato-coloured cheeks.

"Of course I am!" She cries. "Why else would I be dating him 'ttebane?"

Kyoichiro turns back to his book.

"You don't have to like someone to date them."

"Wha-- I mean, that's true, but," Kushina furrows her brows. "Seriously, how old are you 'ttebane?"

"I turned 10 this year."

"You're only ten!" She points accusingly. "What would you know about love?"

"What relevance does age have with love?" Kyoichiro asks. "Children love their parents, parents love their children, lovers love each other."

"Children loving their parents is different, ya know? It's a different type of love dattebane."

Kyoichiro smiles.

"I love a lot of different ways," He says, and his eyes are so incredibly bright despite their void-like appearance. "I'd say the only reason I still live is because I love."

Kushina flushes.

"A-aren't kids your age embarrassed to talk about love?!" She just about screams. "How can you say that so obviously?!"

"Why?" Kyoichiro asks her, completely serious. "What's so embarrassing about being in love?"

… He's right.

What exactly made people so against admitting that they loved?

 

***

 

It was cute, how Kushina pretended to be a grown-up in front of children.

Kyoichiro nurses his tea in his hands.

"Oh!" She squeals. "Mame-chan is so~ cute!" Mame and Yuta had come to join him for tea, but now Mame is in Kushina's clutches, completely limp like a ragdoll as Kushina spun her around.

"Uhm," Yuta blinks. "… Actually, never mind.  Kyo-nii, how have those appeals been going?"

Kyoichiro looks at the boy.

"Fairly well, I must say," Kyoichiro replies. "The ultimate goal is to open up a school accessible to civilian children, so of course, I had to draw attention to where I want the school first."

Yuta side-eyes him.

"And you're doing that by dragging the daimyo?"

Kyoichiro hums.

"Maybe if he listened to my appeals, he wouldn't be in such a precarious position now."

"You wrote those appeals knowing that they weren't going to get through to him."

"The point was to give him a chance," Kyoichiro replies, as flatly as ever. "You never know, Yuta, sometimes people surprise us."

Yuta looks at him even more doubtfully now.

"… You're just playing with that man like a toy."

"Ah, was it that obvious?"

Yuta sighs.

"Kyo-nii, with an attitude like that, you'll never find a girl who wants to marry you."

"That's fine," Kyoichiro replies nonchalantly. "I've no intention of marrying ."

Yuta squints at him, clearly trying to decipher what exactly that means.

"… Does that mean you're not interested in girls, or that you're not interested in marriage at all?"

"Neither."

Yuta closes his eyes and seems to count to ten before he opens them.

How lovely. Those mindfulness exercises that Kyoichiro has been teaching the children are working.

"… I am going to spread those vampire rumors with even more effort, now," Yuta declares.

… What?

"You were the one spreading those rumors?"

Yuta averts his gaze and crosses his arms petulantly.

Ah.

Kyoichiro is the one who has to do those mindfulness exercises now, hm?

In, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, Out, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10…

"… The creativity of a child's mind is to be nurtured," Kyoichiro decides serenely. "But lying, maybe cease that."

"I'm not lying," Yuta tells him. "I'm just suspecting ."

Meaning that he was spreading information that was true but purposefully misleading.

Mm.

Kyoichiro might be rubbing off on these children a bit too much.

Scowling just a little (he does not miss the way Yuta's eyes dart to his teeth), he laments the turn his second life has taken.

He runs his tongue over his steadily growing, sharpening canines.

How unfortunate it was that the body molds to the shape of the soul, he thinks. Those rumors might actually get him killed in this sort of ancient time period. What if he is actually killed on a stake?

 

***

 

Kyoichiro thinks he might be in love with Kushina.

If Minato had heard Kyoichiro say that, the poor boy might have had a stroke.

Kyoichiro is in love with Kushina, but he thinks maybe, it would be a little different from the love that Minato and Kushina have.

Kyoichiro has always loved just a little differently, in many different ways.

And it takes Kyoichiro a while, to figure out what exactly about Kushina was so captivating to him.

Of course, he does eventually figure it out, sitting on the couch at the orphanage, watching over the breathing bodies of the little children once again.

It was that lovely, flaming red hair.

That hair that looked as vibrant as red camellias in the snow, that was what Kyoichiro found himself so infatuated with.

With those lovely, fiery tresses, Kushina had looked like Imu.

Kyoichiro breathes out a quiet little chuckle, head leaned on the palm of his hand.

Love, he has found, has now followed him through death.

But Imu was not the love he had tried to drown himself for.

… Vicente was different from her.

 

***

 

"You have fangs."

Kyoichiro gives Sakumo the stink eye.

"… So do you," The boy replies. "Everyone has canines."

Sakumo blinks.

"These are genetics," He taps his mouth. "Yours… yours look different."

Kyoichiro rolls his eyes at him.

"…" Sakumo considers. "Are those vampire rumors--"

Kyoichiro lets out a soul-expelling sigh.

Sakumo shuts his mouth.

"Sakumo-dono," The boy begins. "If I hear someone accusing me of being a vampire a few more times, I might actually start ripping people's throats out with my teeth."

… That would only confirm the rumors, Sakumo doesn't say, for Kyoichiro's sanity's sake. So he changes the subject.

"I'm going on a long mission next week," Sakumo says. "I'll set out once I take Kakashi to the academy."

Kyoichiro glances up from his book.

"Ah," He sounds. "Kakashi-kun is already going to the academy? Time flies."

Sakumo is pretty sure the boy is saying that not for the sentiment, and just for the sake of saying it, but lets it slide.

"He is entering early," Sakumo reassures. "It's not as if he suddenly turned 6 overnight."

"He's four now," Kyoichiro says-- and yes, says, because that was not a question.

"I'm surprised you remember how old Kakashi is," Sakumo admits honestly, resting his hand on Kyoichiro's head.

Kyoichiro squints at him.

"… What exactly do you think I am?"

"An alien," Sakumo responds, without missing a beat.

"…" Kyoichiro squints even more. "… Close enough, I suppose."

Sakumo blinks.

He couldn't tell whether the boy was joking or not, so for the sake of his own sanity this time, he allows the comment to roll off his shoulders and ignores it when it becomes a splat on the ground.

"Could you watch Kakashi for me while I'm on that mission?"

Kyoichiro looks at him-- properly this time, directly in the eyes.

Sakumo finds that, even after these two years, Kyoichiro's piercing gaze still makes him uncomfortable.

Geez, what kind of ninja is he if he's intimidated by the eyes of a non-ninja 10-year-old?

"Are you going to die on this mission?" Kyoichiro asks, and all of Sakumo's hairs stand on end. "This sounds like something you should write on your will."

Sakumo wants to laugh that question off, but he can't.

"… I have a bad feeling about this mission," Sakumo says, and it's like the phrase is forced out of his lungs. "Not because I know anything, but because…"

"That would be your instincts," Kyoichiro says. "I know the look of people who won't come back from missions."

Sakumo breathes in a slow, shuddering breath.

"You think I'm going to die," Sakumo asks, but it feels like it isn't really a question after it comes out of his mouth. It feels like a confirmation.

"No," Kyoichiro replies. "But I think this mission will kill you," The boy looks into the sky. "when people have bad feelings about missions, they tend to be right."

Sakumo can't figure out what the boy means by the first part, but he also knows that he will understand when the time comes.

"Call it a gut feeling," Kyoichiro says, smiling. "A gut feeling just like the one you're feeling in the pit of your stomach right now."

Sakumo purses his lips, and his hands grip the mug in his hands just a little tighter.

This mission might be his last, but at least he would still have the time to send Kakashi to the academy and say goodbye.

He breathes out shakily, and his grip loosens.

Sakumo feels like a doll with its strings cut.

"… Could you take care of Kakashi for me if he ends up in the orphanage?"

Kyoichiro turns back to him, and Sakumo braces for the uncomfortable feeling of meeting Kyoichiro's eyes, but there is really no way to prepare-- especially when it's even worse than he's felt before.

It's like ice dropped into the back of his clothes.

"… Do you not want to live?" Kyoichiro asks.

"What?"

"Do you not want to live?" Kyoichiro repeats. "If you're going to resign yourself to death, you may as well just commit suicide with me."

Sakumo's skin pricks with annoyance, anger, and terrible, terrible fear .

"What would I be able to do about it if I did want to live?" Sakumo asks, and he tries to keep his voice as flat as possible. It would do him no good to scream at a child. "Just…"

Kyoichiro's gaze doesn't falter. He doesn't even back off, even though Sakumo's sure that his fear, and maybe even a bit of killing intent, is rolling off of him.

"I asked you a yes or no question, Sakumo-dono," Kyoichiro says. "Do you want to live?"

Sakumo feels like time has frozen around them.

"… Yes," He whispers. "I need to at least watch Kakashi grow up."

Kyoichiro smiles.

"See?" The boy turns back to his book again, and that suffocating pressure is gone. "It isn't that hard to admit what you want."

Kyoichiro flips to the next page.

"I'll make sure you live, as long as you get back to the village alive, Sakumo-san," The boy tilts his head just to meet his eyes once more, for just a few moments. "I'll fulfill that wish of yours, even if I must drag you kicking and screaming."

And when the boy turns back to his book and focuses again, Sakumo wonders why he ever thought of those eyes as a void.

They were like burning stars.

"… Why?" He manages.

Kyoichiro pauses mid-page-flip, but doesn't look back at him, and the hesitation is only for half a second maybe, barely noticeable.

"… I'm simply in a good mood, I suppose," Kyoichiro says. "But I've promised you now, and I don't break promises."

Sakumo breathes, and the air feels far more clear than before.

"Think of it as a favor from a friend."

Kyoichiro doesn't talk much after that.

 

***

 

January, 1988

 

"I love you."

Imu looks at him, and then snorts derisively.

"Gross. And I don't love you," She waves him off, lighting her third consecutive cigarette. "As I said, 500 times before."

"It's only 348 times," Kyoichiro corrects, smiling pleasantly. "And I've asked you to marry me exactly 511 times."

"And all 348 times I've said that 1) I don't love you, 2), you're too eccentric for my tastes, and 3), You're too young for me."

Kyoichiro lets those answers roll off his shoulders, instead admiring the wrinkle under her eyes that has become more prominent with her age.

"… You're beautiful."

Imu rolls her eyes.

And Kyoichiro can't help but stare, because her barbed tongue, her cruel lips, and her fake disinterest don't make her any less beautiful.

"And you're ugly," She responds without missing a beat. "What makes you think you love me, anyway?"

"Isn't it human instinct to love?"

Imu looks at him and pushes some of her white-streaked red hair behind her ear.

"You can look at it that way," She says. "But answer my question."

Kyoichiro pushes himself away from the railing of the college rooftop, thinking.

"…" How could he say anything in the human language that would allow someone to comprehend it? "… I want to be the only one that has you," He decides. "Is that not love?"

Imu pauses.

"… I'm pretty sure that qualifies more under obsession ."

The words come to him without him thinking about it.

"If you wanted to see my intentions," Kyoichiro says. "I would carve open my chest and pry open my ribs so that you could ."

She glances at him from the corner of her eyes, then looks back at the sky.

"Sti~ll falls under obsession."

"Obsession also falls under love, doesn't it, sensei?" He asks. "Why does it have to be one or the other?"

The woman looks at him-- and this, this was something he adored. The way she looked directly into his eyes, and the way it felt like he was being picked apart under a microscope. This excruciating, exposed feeling, this judgment, the feeling of being so perceived by her, it was all exhilarating .

It had to be Imu.

It couldn't be anyone else.

"… Fine," She agrees. "You are in love with me."

Kyoichiro smiles a little wider at this acceptance.

"Since my feelings are confirmed to be genuine now, won't you consider--"

"No."

Kyoichiro raises his hands in surrender.

She ignores him and goes back to smoking.

Kyoichiro is happy to sit against the railing and watch her side profile.

"… You used to be such an empty kid," Imu finally says, after a while, scowling. "… Maybe you should have stayed empty. All this love business has you loopy."

As if he wasn't already a bit 'loopy' in the first place.

"Isn't it odd that the word 'love'* encompasses the depth of it?" Kyoichiro asks. "'Love'," He places a hand on his face, trying to get a grip on his thoughts. "It doesn't even begin to describe my feelings."

Imu puts her lighter in her pocket, looks down at him, and rests her embows along the railing.

"It is lacking," She agrees. "Why does our language only have two words* for it when the Greeks had four?"

Kyoichiro rests his head on the palm of his hand and listens.

This was Imu.

It was Imu's core trait to think, to question.

" Agape, Philia, Eros, Storge ," She recites, placing her cigarette back into her mouth and inhaling deeply. "Four different types of love, and all of it just goes back to 'love' in our language. Why?"

Imu was a philosopher, rather than a teacher.

Kyoichiro called her 'sensei' affectionately, and surely, she was skilled at her work, but it was not her nature.

Imu's nature was to sit in an ivory tower, a cigarette in hand, and to sit there and question and think and talk, to ask her throat raw.

"In Japanese, it would be 'Divine love', 'platonic love', 'romantic love', and 'familial love'," She continues. "But wouldn't using the word 'love' to describe these words make the whole point redundant? No, no, wait," She removes the cigarette from her lips, and looks at the sky. "Wouldn't assigning a word to human feelings be redundant in the first place?"

"How would we communicate emotion then?" Kyoichiro throws fuel onto the fire, so that Imu could continue to burn-- because a flame was what Imu was. She was like a flame that wouldn't, couldn't , stop burning. And Kyoichiro knew she would continue to burn until all that was left of her was ashes. "Surely this was caused by linguistics rather than philosophy."

Imu looks at him, eyes just so slightly wide with the complexity of her thought.

"Have you not been sitting in my lectures?" She asks. "You should know that there is no aspect of humanity untouched by philosophy."

Kyoichiro has.

He just wants to hear her speak more.

"C.S Lewis claimed that love is responsible for nine-tenths of human happiness," She informs him. "That a happy human life could not be accomplished without it, but those four Greek terms were the only words he used when describing 'love'."

"Which begs the question, how do we describe a love for things that aren't human?" Kyoichiro finishes. "Isn't that right, sensei?"

"Exactly," She responds, but her eyes are far away. "Is a life where the only love you feel is for something inanimate, is that an empty life?"

An artist can feel love for their art.

A craftsman can feel love for their craft.

An emergency worker can feel love for their duty.

And Imu feels love for philosophy.

"I wouldn't say that," Kyoichiro says. "You aren't miserable, are you, sensei?"

The woman squashes her cigarette butt on the railing.

"Are you saying that I'm a miserable woman who can't feel love?"

Kyoichiro sighs.

"There you go, putting words in my mouth again."

Imu pulls out another cigarette.

"I dunno," She tells him. "I do feel affection for other people, so I'm not the best person to ask."

"Oh?" Kyoichiro smiles. "And who is it you feel affection for?"

Imu smacks him over the head.

"Shut it, you brat."

Kyoichiro happily takes the blow,

"Say, sensei," He says, unfazed. "Why'd you stop me from jumping when you first met me?"

The woman raises a brow at him.

"You think I didn't recognize you as the kid stalking me in the smoking area?"

Kyoichiro laughs the accusation off.

"You and I both know that you would have let me jump without any other external reasons."

Imu scrunches her nose and opens her cigarette packet again, only to realize there were no more.

"Well," She sighs. "You think it would actually kill you?"

Kyoichiro smiles.

"No."

The woman rolls her eyes.

"I wasn't intentionally interrupting your suicide," She claims. "I was just passing by."

"I'd believe that if you didn't keep interrupting me."

Imu looks at him, and sighs.

"It was…" She pauses. "It was just a favor for a friend."

Kyoichiro thinks he knows exactly who she's talking about.

"Now, you do me a favor," She continues. "And stop other people from killing themselves."

"I thought you didn't care."

"I don't," She says, and her truthfulness would be concerning if Kyoichiro was her employer. "But they've updated a bunch of that legal crap, and there's more paperwork now when a student dies."

"That's the favor you're cashing in on with me, then," Kyoichiro confirms.

"Y~up," She starts dragging out her words again.

Did she drink again last night?

Kyoichiro leans the small of his back against the railing, facing the ski while Imu faces the civilians below.

"Say, sensei," He begins again. "Why did you divorce your husband?"

"I heard it's bad luck to talk about exes in front of people you're trying to pursue."

"Tell me anyway," He insists. "It's not as if you're interested in me the same way, right?"

Imu crushes her last cigarette on the railing and lets it drop to the floor.

"… He was in a business I didn't approve of," She says. "That's it."

"Hah…!"

Kyoichiro knows which 'friend' exactly she's talking about now.

Imu cautiously watches him from the corner of her eye, and Kyoichiro ignores it.

"It seems I'm going to have to give your 'friend' my thanks," He says.

Imu's finally standing up straight now.

"Kyoichiro," She says sternly. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't go see him."

"Who?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Kyoichiro leans his head to one side, considering, before he leans in and presses his forehead to hers.

Imu backs away immediately, as if burned.

"Hahah!" Kyoichiro laughs, truly, from the bottom of his stomach. "Don't worry, sensei," He turns and heads for the entrance back into the building. "I won't do anything to him. I'm thankful, really. Where else would I be in a situation where I could fall in love with you?"

Right as he closes the door behind him, he sees Imu fall into a crouch by the railing, head in her hand.

"… That little shit," He hears her murmur, and he takes it as a compliment.

Notes:

This is my Twitter !
I'll also start posting some Original Novel stuff there too, I'm still working through being more regularly posting (both here and on twitter), so thanks for your patience!
I am in the middle of drawing a comic on this chapter, so that will be up on my twitter eventually....

Chapter 14: a pack of trues, sake, and a pack of marlboros

Summary:

Kyoichiro and Imu, and a trip back to Hanamachi

Notes:

TW!!!: Underage drinking, underage smoking, cross-dressing

I'm not sure if trigger warning is warranted for cross-dressing but just in case!

Also, reminder that from now on Kyoichiro as a character will be completely matching up to the character 'Kyoichiro' in my original story!! I had mellowed him out initially but that sorta messed up his character so I'm going back with my canon;;;

There is a drinking game they play her called 'Konpira', and it's still played by maiko/geiko with their clients now!
Here are the rules:
The song 'Konpira' will be sung to create a beat (this song will slowly speed up as the game is played), and a cup/bowl will be placed upside down on the table.
Essesstially, the two players take turns tapping the bottom of the cup according to the beat of the song, and at any point during their turns (to tap the cup) they can lift the cup off the table, but they have to put the cup back on the table by the next beat.
You can take the cup three times in a row (for three beats) if you want.
However, the point of the game is that you have to tap with an open hand if the cup is there, and with a closed fist on the table if the cup is not.
So if someone lifts the cup and the other player places an open hand on the table, then the second player loses. If the cup is there and a player mistakenly puts a closed fist on it, then they lose.
The song slowly gets faster as the game goes!

I've seen people play with two cups (one for each hand) but playing with four worked in my head, I dunno how it works irl lol

Here's a Link of a maiko playing with a client :)

When Kyōichirō was 16, he had snuck out of the house after half-heartedly washing his blood-covered hands, red still caked under his nails. He later learned that there had also been some on his face, which he had failed to wipe off with his sleeve, only hazardously smearing it further across his cheekbones.

And on that hot summer night, wandering into central Shinjuku, he had passed by a clear-walled smoking area outside an apartment block, and found a woman dressed in only a scandalously thin dress shirt that hung to the middle of her thighs smoking a pack of Trues, and falls in love at first sight. 

Her name was Yukie Imu.

 

***

 

May, 1986  

 

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

The boy smiles at her.

He looked barely-sixteen, and he was already a head taller than Imu.

And notably, he was standing over the railing, sock-covered toes hanging over the ledge and shoes behind him. 

He blows the smoke out from his lungs, before putting the cigarette back between his lips.

"Aren't you supposed to be working, Ane-san?"

Imu flinches-- hopefully imperceptibly, and faces him.

"… You're in my class," She says.

"I am."

"I'm a divorcee," She tells him. "I'm not married to your aniki anymore."

The boy smiles, long eyelashes fluttering down as he takes his cigarette out of his mouth again.

"I know," He says. "What should I call you?"

Imu looks at him cautiously.

She hadn't seen him in the family, so Tsukasa must have picked this boy up after she left.

Imu supposes it wasn't too strange that the boy recognized her, considering who she was in the yakuza.

"Just call me sensei."

"Alright, sensei," The boy's smile was unsettling, but it didn't make him any less pretty.

Imu leans against the railing next to the boy.

"… You're the kid that's been stalking me outside my apartment."

The boy laughs.

"You noticed that?" He asks, though it's incredibly clear that he had intended for her to notice him. "How embarrassing."

"Don't lie," She scoffs. "Did Tsukasa send you?"

"No."

She looks at him.

"… What a coincidence, then," She comments blandly. "You're the kid who graduated highschool early and came here, right?"

"Yes."

And what a coincidence, that this child had graduated early and started university just as he started hanging around the smoking area outside Imu's apartment.

"Did you follow me here?"

The boy's smile doesn't falter.

"What would you say if I did?"

Imu scowls and pulls her pack of Trues out of her white coat.

"I would ask you again if Tsukasa sent you."

"Then I would reply that he didn't."

"…" Imu places the joint in her mouth and takes out a lighter.

Click.

Clack.

Cli--

Clik.

Imu looks up from her stubbornly cold lighter and finds the boy holding his own lighter up to her.

She lets him light it, leaning close as she holds her cigarette between her two fingers and her lips.

"…" Imu inhales, and exhales again. "So, what's your name?"

"Takayanagi Kyōichirō," The boy replies.

'Takayanagi'…

Imu scours her brain.

Ah, so this was Mitsuhiko's kid.

As she comes to this revelation, the boy finishes off his cigarette by smushing the butt into the palm of his own hand.

Imu watches silently as the boy look down at the street below, and contemplates.

"… What is it?" She asks, after a moment.

"I feel bad for whoever must scrape me off the pavement."

"Then go hang yourself instead."

"Will you help inform the police before I start rotting?"

"… I guess you could also drown."

"There aren't many rivers here," Takayanagi turns back to her. "You aren't going to stop me, miss counselor?"

Imu blinks, then checks her watch,

It's 6.

"Nope," She replies. "I'm off work, now."

The boy laughs-- not loudly, just a small chuckle in the back of his throat.

"Alright," He says nonchalantly.

Imu leans over the railing.

"You did choose a good building, though," She says.

"Didn't I?"

Imu snorts and puts her cigarette back in her mouth.

The boy continues to contemplate as he counts the civilians below.

"… Say, I'm craving hotpot," She says.

"Are there not places nearby that sell it?"

Imu scrunches up her nose.

"There are, but it's no fun eating hotpot alone," She replies, then pauses, and comes to a revelation. "… Hey, you. Come eat hotpot with me."

The boy looks at her, eyes ever-so-slightly wide, before he laughs-- heartier, this time.

"Sensei," He covers his mouth with his hand, though his eyes are still glistening with mirth. "I'm sorry, I'm a little busy right now."

He looks behind himself, at his shoes, then back up at her.

Imu rolls her eyes.

"It's not as if the building is going to disappear overnight," She drawls. "Come on, put your shoes back on."

"Pushy," Kyōichirō comments. "but I suppose I can accompany you this time, sensei."

"Just hurry up."

 

***

 

"Kyō-nii," Kakashi picks up his pace when he spots him.

Kyōichirō waves, and lets the boy take his hand.

"How was class?" Kyōichirō asks.

Kakashi scrunches his nose from under his mask.

How cute.

Kyōichirō doesn't really remember when the boy started wearing it, but if he had to guess, it might have been as soon as he was able to speak full sentences.

"Boring," The boy replies. "It's too easy."

Ah, Kakashi must already be too advanced for the syllabus.

"Is that so?" Kyōichirō replies. "Have you asked the teachers to move you up a grade, then?"

Kakashi blinks.

"I can do that?"

Kyōichirō tilts his head to the side, considering.

"If you're doing particularly well, the teachers will probably already be considering doing it, but if you give them a push they might finalize the decision faster."

"My dad--"

"AH!" A loud voice rattles Kyōichirō's ears, and he turns back to look at where it came from, a hand on his ear.

It's been happening often, recently. This body he was in hadn't started off as anything particularly special, but it seemed it really, unfortunately, was taking on the physical characteristics of his previous one. His heightened senses were not something he had particularly lamented in his previous life, but now, after experiencing a normal body with normal functions, reattaining his previous abilities has become rather painful.

Kakashi looks at him, concerned, no doubt having noticed his discomfort.

"Obito," He says, annoyed, but keeping his volume low. "Don't yell."

"You have a big brother?!" The boy barrels right over poor Kakashi, then pauses for a moment. "… Nevermind, you definitely seem like the younger brother type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kakashi snaps back incredulously.

The boy, 'Obito', shrugs, then looks at Kyōichirō.

"Hi!" He greets, with too much energy for Kyōichirō's liking. "I'm Uchiha Obito!"

"Hello," Kyōichirō greets. "I'm Takayanagi Kyōichirō."

"AH!" The boy exclaims again, and Kyōichirō closes his eyes and begs for patience. "You're that kid that saved Inabi from those civilian kids!"

Kid? Kyōichirō fairly sure that he was older than Obito.

"Obito is from my class," Kakashi tells him rather long-sufferingly. "We took the entrance exam together."

"I see," Kyōichirō replies. "It's nice to meet you. You know Inabi-kun?"

"Yeah!" Obito yells. "I know everyone from Uchiha-ku! Inabi is my… uh…"

The boy seems to count on his fingers.

"… Second cousin?"

"Are you asking or saying?" Kakashi sighs. "What do you want, Obito."

Obito seems to snap out of his state of figuring out whatever his family tree looks like and turns his head to face Kakashi so fast Kyōichirō wouldn't be surprised if his head twists right off.

"You!" He yells.

"Me," Kakashi agrees.

"I’m going to become Hokage, so don't get in my way!"

Kakashi blinks slowly.

"… Good for you," He says. "I'm not trying to get in your way or anything."

Obito splutters.

"Me and Kyo-nii have to go, now," Kakashi tells the Obito, ignoring his flailing. "Come on, Kyo-nii."

"I'll see you around then, Obito-kun," Kyōichirō ruffles the boy's hair as they walk past. "Tell Inabi-kun I said hello."

Obito's hands fly to his head as soon as Kyōichirō's hand leaves it, and Kakashi sweeps them both back to the direction of the Hatake estate.

"What were you saying about your father?" Kyōichirō asks.

Kakashi pauses, then blinks up at him, recalling.

"Oh," Kakashi remembers. "Dad said he doesn't want me to feel pressured to do well."

Kyōichirō senses there's more to that-- and sure enough, Kakashi continues.

"I don't get what he means by that," The boy confesses. "He always tells me to do my best at everything, so isn't that sort of contradictory?"

Kyōichirō wonders.

Was it that he wanted to have Kakashi avoid the warfront for as long as possible, or was it that he felt that Kakashi was growing up too quickly?

Maybe it's both.

He's seen it a lot-- it was simply the nature of a parent to both support and lament their child's growth.

Even Kyōichirō understands that children grow quickly.

For a parent, it must be heart wrenching, to fail to preserve the state of the child they loved, to have to have their best interests in mind and let them grow.

(Distantly, Kyōichirō thinks he can feel a phantom pain running up his legs.)

"… Your father is going to be happy as long as you're happy," Kyōichirō says, as he's said to many children, many times before. "So, Kakashi, in order to achieve what your father wants for you, you must grow up well."

"You talk a bit like a teacher."

"Do I?"

Kakashi walks wordlessly next to him, small hand in his, for a while, until he suddenly stops and tugs.

"…Mn."

Kyōichirō sighs, before he picks the boy up in his arms, and keeps walking.

"Just until we get back to your house, okay?"

"Okay."

 

***

 

"Have you seen Minato-san recently?" Kakashi asks.

Kyōichirō looks up at the boy from his newspaper. No news of Sakumo.

"I haven't," Kyōichirō replies, flipping the page. "Rather, he hasn't been speaking to me."

Kakashi chews on his rice, mask bunched under his chin.

Kyōichirō frowns.

Continuously wearing a mask like that couldn't be sanitary.

"Are you at least changing the mask at every meal?" Kyōichirō asks. "As you breathe, a lot of bacteria gets caught in the fabric."

"Mn," Kakashi nods. "I keep a few in my pockets."

Kyōichirō accepts the answer and goes back to his newspaper.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been paying too much attention to what was going on at the war front at the moment. Orochimaru had gone to the border a week ago, and the Uchiha were still mostly within the village as domestic security.

It was a messy situation in the first place. With Amegakure, Kusagakure, and Takigakure right between the conflicting countries, it meant that the conflict that was between two parties suddenly became a conflict involving five. Even if those villages didn't participate in the combat, those areas' financial scenes would undoubtedly be hit by their warring borders.

The fact that there was enough conflict at the Hi no Kuni border for Orochimaru to be, according to his own words, 'stationed there until further notice', meant that at least one of those countries was letting armed shinobi pass through their land, or aiding Iwagakure.

Then again, when was war not messy?

"Right," Kakashi begins, putting down his chopsticks. Kyōichirō's eyes are immediately drawn to the beauty mark under Kakashi's lip-- its placement is exactly opposite of Kyōichirō's. "Kyō-nii, are you okay with dogs?"

"I'm fine with all animals."

But he does prefer cats.

He hopes that someone took care of Muta after he died, now that he's thinking about it.

"Dad had me sign the dog summoning contract before he left," Kakashi says. "I named my first summon Pakkun."

What, with katakana?

"If you want," Kyōichirō says.

Kakashi beams and immediately puts his thumb to his teeth, drawing blood.

Kyōichirō's eyes immediately zero in, but he manages to tear his gaze away to watch Kakashi's eyes.

… Oh dear, Kyōichirō thinks. His condition is really starting to deteriorate.

"Kuchiyose no Jutsu!" Kakashi exclaims, and the spot in front of him bursts into smoke.

A dog sits in the middle of the tatami mat beside them. It's either a pug or a bulldog of some sort, and it looks… awfully tired. As like a overworked salaryman as a dog could possible look, Kyōichirō would say.

"This is Pakkun," Kakashi introduces. "Pakkun, this is Kyo-nii."

"I'm Takayanagi Kyōichirō," Kyōichirō introduces himself.

The dog looks at him, and tenses.

Oh dear, Kyōichirō thinks again. It seems he's really molding back into his old self in every way imaginable.

"… Hey," Pakkun greets cautiously, with a startlingly deep voice, and glances at Kakashi. "Kakashi," It begins-- and Kyōichirō thinks this might be the moment he gets outed.

Oh, to be exposed by a talking bulldog…

"… That is clearly a cat person," Pakkun says, subverting all of Kyōichirō's expectations. "I bet he's not popular with dogs."

… Right on the mark.

"Most animals are a little afraid of me, unfortunately," Kyōichirō replies.

"Really?" Kakashi ponders. "I wonder why. You're so gentle-looking, Kyo-nii…"

Kyōichirō thinks it has something to do with animals' stronger base instincts.

Pakkun casts Kakasahi a disbelieving glance, and eyes Kyōichirō again.

"Do you wanna touch my paws…?" Pakkun asks him, even though he looks like he'd quite rather be doing anything other than being within a 10 meter radius of Kyōichirō. "They're soft."

"I'll decline," Kyōichirō says, out of consideration for the poor thing. "I'm sure they are very well taken care of, though. Maybe next time."

Kyōichirō doesn't think he's ever seen a dog look so relieved.

Kakashi looks puzzled, but lets it go.

"Kyo-nii," Kakashi turns back to him and lets Pakkun crawl into his lap. "Are you really the one going around biting Uchiha-ku's cats?"

Kyōichirō makes sure his face doesn't even twitch.

It was just the one time…!

(Though, Kyōichirō thinks it'll become more frequent in the near future.)

"… Who knows," He replies ambiguously. "Maybe I started sleepwalking and suddenly felt hungry for pets."

Pakkun shivers.

"Huh," Kakashi considers. "I wonder what kind of weirdo would just bite , though-- if they were hungry they would have properly bit a chunk off."

Oh, what an arrow to his chest.

"Someone hungry for blood, and not flesh," Pakkun replies, eyeing Kyōichirō. "Some of those things exist, you know?"

"Not you too, Pakkun," Kakashi furrows his brows. "Everyone in the village has heard the vampire theory, by now…"

Haha, when Kyōichirō gets his hands on those kids…

"Kyōichirō eats normal food just fine," Kakashi points out. "He's not a vampire!"

"Of course," Kyōichirō happily agrees, sending the dog a look. "Because vampires aren't real ."

The dog shudders, and averts his gaze.

"Anyway," Kyōichirō begins. "What do you want to eat for dinner Kakashi?"

Kakashi slouches.

"We just had lunch, but you're already thinking about dinner?"

"Of course," Kyōichirō replies. "It's better to plan ahead and buy ingredients first."

(He isn't very full.

It should have been enough for his 10 year old body, but it's not.

It's getting worse.)

 

***

 

"Oh, what a coincidence!"

Kyōichirō immediately pivots to the other direction, tucking his hands further into his sleeves.

Wrong way, then.

"Hey, Kyōichirō!"

Kyōichirō walks faster.

"Wait, Kyōichirō," Kiyozuru Oiran speedwalks towards him, out of his working getup and looking nothing like Kiyozuru oiran. "Hear me out!"

And Kyōichirō sighs before he stops, turning around and letting the man catch up with him.

"What do you need, Kiyozuru-san?"

Kiyozuru's face brightens, still quite feminine even without his makeup.

"We need a few extra hands for an important guest today--"

Kyōichirō turns on his heel again.

"Wait!"

And Kiyozuru doesn't grab him, he knows better, but channels enough desperation into his voice that Kyōichirō stops again.

"…20," Kiyozuru holds out two fingers. "I'll buy you a nice pipe and source your tobacco."

"15," Kyōichirō bargains.

Kiyozuru makes a face.

"I don't do things that are illegal if I don't have to. 17."

"16."

Just the legal age.

"Fine," Kiyozuru sounds pained.

"And you'll pay me the minimum wage for every hour."

"Deal."

Kyōichirō nods.

"Lead the way, then," Kyōichirō gestures. "I've mostly done my errands, I just need to bring something to Hanagaki Oiran and I'll be on my way."

Kiyozuru Oiran scrunches his nose.

Right, Kyōichirō recalls. They don't get along.

"What, is there an event for her?"

"From the emperor," Kyōichirō says. "There's one for you, too."

Kiyozuru's brow raises as Kyōichirō hands him the letter.

"… Why's that guy wasting money on these parties when we're literally having a war ?"

"Watch yourself," Kyōichirō mutters. "… I heard it's a diplomatic meeting because they're receiving foreign envoys."

"Peace talks?"

Kyōichirō nods.

Kiyozuru looks horrified.

"They're using Oiran for this meeting?!" Kiyozuru whisper-screams. "We're gonna lose our heads!"

Kyōichirō agrees. It's an probably insult to invite sex workers to such an event rather than the geisha from the main flower districts in the capital.

"Aoi-dayu is going to be there at least, probably," Kyōichirō says.

Aoi-dayu was the only Tayu in Konoha, and worked in the only other hanamachi on the other side of the village. Over there, there were more artisans and fewer sex workers-- at least, that's what Kyōichirō has guessed based on the information he has.

"Where are you getting this information that even I don't have?!" Kiyozuru hisses. "I'm literally a broker?!"

"I have tea with Shikakuni-dono at the Nara estate sometimes," Kyōichirō says. "He's sending his son there."

"To the diplomatic meeting?"

Kyōichirō nods.

"… That can only go terribly," Kiyozuru mutters.

Kyōichirō agrees. Shikakuni would be bored, but he could at least pretend to be interested. Shikaku, on the other hand, did not have the decency to pretend, and coupled with his prosopagnosia, he'd probably end up offending more people than he cared to remember.

"What a headache."

"Indeed."

They arrive at Yasamiya House, Kiyozuru already having his face buried in his hands.

"I'll come back after I bring this letter to Hanagaki-san," Kyōichirō tells Kiyozuru.

The man nods wordlessly, looking tired already as he waves Kyōichirō off.

 

***

 

The event attendants are a ragtag of ninja and wealthy merchants who deal with ninja goods-- no-one too notable, but seeing the sheer number of people made Kyōichirō realize why Kiyozuru needed the extra hands.

Kyōichirō had also wondered why they hadn't asked other houses for assistance rather than random orphans, but evidently, they had, because he sees maiko and yūjo he recognizes from Kiku Okiya and Yamamoto Okiya as well.

Apparently, Hanagaki Oiran was also here along with a few workers from her house, but Kyōichirō hasn't seen her-- she's probably in the other room.

Also, there was a concerning number (even one was too many, really,) of ninja who knew him, here.

Thankfully, he's stationed at the game area in the corner of the room, and with makeup on his face, his hair pinned back, and a feminine kimono over his shoulders, it was unlikely any of them would notice him too quickly-- especially since he's purposely hiding his presence.

"Awh, I lost again!" The man exclaims, hands in his hair.

Kyōichirō smiles, rather pleased with his unending Konpira winning campaign.

"Fufu."

They had decided against Kyōichirō talking initially because even though his face was androgynous, his voice most definitely was not, but Kyōichirō reassured them that he could change his voice with little difficulty for the event, so he's stuck playing games with the customers.

"Kyōichirō-kun," One of the younger girls whisper to him as his game partner drunkenly laughs himself silly. "Are you okay?"

Kyōichirō nods.

"There's no need for me to drink if I win them all, right?"

"Still," The girl holds his hand. "Let us know if you need to get away. We'll drink for you."

Kyōichirō nods again.

The girl sends him one last worried look before she leaves, and the a new challenger shows up across Kyōichirō's game table.

"Heya, boy," They say. "That's an impressive falsetto you got there."

Kyōichirō blinks and looks at the man.

"… Ah," Kyōichirō bows shallowly. "Shikakuni-dono."

"Whatcha doing here?" Shikakuni asks.

"Just helping out," Kyōichirō replies. "The pay is good here."

Shikakuni chuckles as Kyōichirō pushes the drinking game table out of the way and pulls the shogi table towards them.

"What, you saving up for something?" Shikakuni asks.

Kyōichirō nods.

"Land."

Shikakuni pauses.

"… Land." He says.

"Yes," Kyōichirō replies. "Land."

Shikakuni seems to decide he's going to take it in stride, and makes the first move.

"Have you checked how old you have to be to buy estate if you aren't a ninja?"

Kyōichirō nods.

"I have," He places his hand on his silver general. "The youngest is 15, so I'll save up within those 5 years."

"Good luck, then," Shikakuni places his piece.

"Thank you," Kyōichirō replies, then blinks. "Ah, right," He looks up from the board. "Are you sure you want to send Shikaku-dono to the meeting in the capital?"

"You remembered me saying that, did you?" Shikakuni grumbles. "Everyone's been giving me shit about it. What a drag."

Kyōichirō shrugs.

"I think it's a rather good decision, actually," Kyōichirō replies. "But I'm not sure I'd want to deal with all the offended officials at the meeting trying to hound me later. You do know you're the one who has to appease anyone Shikaku-dono offends, right?"

The jōnin commander looks like he wants to bash his head into the table.

"I know," The man cracks his neck, looking exhausted just at the thought. "It'll do him good though."

"Hm," Kyōichirō hums, and pauses just short of picking up a piece. "Ah. You've won."

"So I have."

Kyōichirō picks up a cup and hands the bottle of sake to Shikakuni.

Shikakuni takes it, but doesn't move to pour him a cup.

"… You're underage."

"I'm 12 just for today, actually."

"That's still underage," Shikakuni replies.

Kyōichirō sighs.

"Just pour me a drink, Shikakuni-dono, I think I'm going to need one to last the rest of tonight," Kyōichirō rolls his shoulders backwards. "I'm resistant to alcohol, anyway."

Shikakuni seems to consider that for a moment, and shrugs, and finally, moves to unscrew the cap of the bottle.

"You seriously talk like you're 60."

Finally .

Kyōichirō has never been a fan of alcohol, but ever since reincarnating, the only thing he's wanted was a bottle of sake and a pack of Marlboros.

His cup is filled, and just as he presses it to his lips, a familiar voice interjects into their conversation.

" Absolutely not , Shika!" The bottle is snatched out of Shikakuni's hands. "Child, don't drink that--"

In response, Kyōichirō immediately downs the entire cup before he can be stopped.

The Yamanaka clan head stares at him, horrified.

The alcohol burns his throat pleasantly, but he can already sense his stomach digesting and dissipating the alcohol.

Not for the first time, Kyōichirō curses his tolerance for substances.

He licks his lips.

They brought out the good stuff for this party, huh?

It's odd, really, because Kyōichirō barely drank at all previously, outside of work parties between his coworkers from his school.

There wasn't really any point, after all.

But he finds that he missed the bitter taste of Japanese sake. Also, Japanese beer. Did they have beer, here?

"Shikakuni, what were you thinking?!" The Yamanaka clan head shrieks. "Why did you pour him a cup?!"

Kyōichirō smiles and puts down the cup. The falsetto he's been using this whole time effortlessly spills from his painted-red lips.

"Hello, Yamanaka-sama," Kyōichirō pulls the tiny table he's been using for Konpira between them. "Do you fancy a game?"

"See, Inohiro?" Shikakuni drawls. "The kid's just fine."

The blonde man shoots Shikakuni a venomous glare before shoving the Nara out of the way and taking his place on the plush cushion across from Kyōichirō.

"You shouldn't drink so young, child," The Yamanaka, 'Inohiro', says, before placing a cup upside down on the table. "It's no good for your body."

"Of course," Kyōichirō agrees placatingly, and Inohiro looks at him a little oddly. "You know how to play?"

Inohiro nods.

"Of course."

Kyōichirō smiles. All his opponents up till this point have been merchants. It's probably harder to play Konpira with a ninja-- but it would be boring if they played it the usual way with the one cup.

Kyōichirō places another cup on the table.

"Shall play with two hands for a bit of a challenge?"

Inohiro eyes him inquisitively, but replies, "Sure."

"Let's begin, then."

Kyōichirō calls over one of the maiko girls with a shamisen, and she quickly scuttles over to sit by them.

The game begins after a count of three.

" Konpira fune fune," The maiko sings, strumming the shamisen with her pick. Konpira always starts slowly. "Oite ni hokakete, shura shu shu shu,"

A crowd is gathering around them. It couldn't be helped, Kyōichirō supposes-- when two high-profile ninja were sitting with him like this.

"Mawareba Shikoku wa Sanshu no naka no gouri Zouzusan, Konpira daigongen ," Kimiko has gotten better at shamisen, Kyōichirō notes absently as he takes the first cup off the tablecloth and Inohiro barely closes his hand in time before it hits the table. "Ichido mawa-atte,"

The first round is over, Kyōichirō notes, and as if on cue, the tempo speeds up-- just by a fraction, unnoticeable to anyone who isn't paying attention.

But the game becomes harder even with this little change.

Kyōichirō places on open hand on the top of the second cup, and closes his fist for his first hand just as Inohiro lifts it off the table.

"--naka no gouri Zouzusan, Konpira daigongen, ichido mawa-atte--"

This was more fun than Kyōichirō thought.

Maybe he'd forgive Kiyozuru even if he paid him a little less.

 

***

 

"Hey, look at that apprentice kid and Yamanaka-sama!"

Kiyozuru looks over at the commotion and sees Kyōichirō right in the middle of it.

Of course Kyōichirō is in the middle of it. He's willing to bet that the kid started it, too.

(If Kyōichirō heard his thoughts, he would most definitely deny it.)

"Seriously, how are they processing anything?!"

Curiosity gets the better of Kiyozuru and he shuffles to look at the corner where Kyōichirō is, and the merchant that was whining about his wife to him just moments ago doesn't notice, because he too is staring, dumbfounded, at whatever was going on there.

And what he sees surprises him.

It really shouldn't, he always knew that Kyōichirō had spectacular physical capabilities, but it did.

He can't even see their hands moving.

" Konpira fune fune, oite ni hokakete shura shu shu shu, mawareba shikoku wa sanshu--"

Poor Kimiko chan looks like she's about to sing herself lightheaded trying to keep up with the pace of the game-- rightfully so, because someone was supposed to lose before the song got that fast.

Thankfully, one of the geisha goes to sit by her side and sing with her.

"-- Ichido mawa-atte-- "

Kiyozuru can't even see their hands moving!

It seems that someone added in another cup-- and that isn't supposed to work at all, because the cups are supposed to be hit once per beat. With two hands, you could play two of the game at once, but three was excessive. One person didn't have three hands, but from what Kiyozuru can make out, they might has well have three.

It seems that they're reacting to the movements of all three cups within the same beat, before the next beat starts.

It was actually ridiculous and not something any non-ninja should be able to achieve. Actually, he was pretty sure most ninja would lose at this point.

And with the strength of which they're using to smack the cups down every time they're lifted, Kiyozuru is beginning to worry that they're going to shatter those expensive pieces of pottery.

And the Nara clan head has another cup in hand and a positively mischievous look on his face.

Of course, the Jōnin commander ignores the positively poisonous, wide-eyed look that Yamanaka sends him and places a fourth cup on the table.

Kyōichirō immediately lifts it.

Yamanaka places a closed fist on the table and immediately taps the bottoms of the other, unmoved cups before the next beat sounds.

"Holy shit," One of the ninja whisper. "I couldn't do that if my life depended on it…"

" --naka no gouri Zouzusan Konpira daigongen-- ichido mawa-atte, Konpira fune fune--"

And Inohiro places an open palm on the empty space of the table where a cup is supposed to be.

"Ah," Kyōichirō utters, pointing to the man's hand with the cup safely in his palm.

The game screeches to a stop.

The spectators start cheering as if it was a chunin exam tournament and not a silly little drinking rhythm game.

"That was amazing, little girl!" Someone screams. "Can other maiko do that too?!"

Kimiko-chan and the geiko next to her blink and shake their heads rapidly, faces pink from singing under their thick white face paint and the tips of their fingers bright red from playing their instruments..

"Ah, no," Kyōichirō denies. He doesn't even sound out of breath. "I just like this game."

"Inohiro, you okay?" Akimichi Chowa asks. "Have some water?"

Yamanaka shakes his head, instead letting Kyōichirō pour him a cup of sake.

"Child," Someone grunts. "I'll play next."

Yamanaka scoots to sit next to Akimichi and Nara, and someone else sits on the cushion he was from.

"Hello," Kyōichirō greets, bowing. "My name is Sachi. It's a pleasure to play with you."

Senju Tsunade sits herself across from Kyōichirō, and Kiyozuru can feel the sweat starting to create itself under his skin.

Oh, god .

Notes:

Here's a translation of the song, courtesy of tumblr to a maiko playing Konpira!

Chapter 15: shochu, heavy smoke, and the hokage

Summary:

Kyoichiro plays even more drinking games (with people he doesn't want to play drinking games with)

Notes:

I'm sorry this came so late 😭 I was demotivated after ao3 deleted my chapter when I went down 🙇🙇
This chapter is on the short side, so I'll try to upload the next chapter soon;;;

“Let's not play Konpira,” Tsunade says, and though the words themselves aren't particularly harsh, her tone has a sense of finality. “We should give the girls a break.”

“Alright,” Kyōichirō acquiesces. “What shall we play then?”

“Why don't you play that game you played with Shikaku?” Shikakuni suggests, leaning forward lazily while Inohiro fans his face, not drunk, but reddening easily. “With the Western cards. You carry them around with you, right?”

“Ah,” Kyōichirō nods. “Yes. Do you mind, Tsunade-sama?”

From what he knows about Tsunade from rumors, he has more of an advantage with this kind of game over Tsunade, and playing this game while aware of that isn't very great guest etiquette.

She looks at him, considering.

“Sure,” She decides. “What kind of game is it?”

Well then.

 

***

 

The game is fairly simple, all things considered, so Tsunade bets a thousand ryō.

That’s her first mistake.

The boy-- it is a boy, she can tell, with the Adam’s apple he’s tried to conceal under his high-collared undershirt, well-hidden in every movement, his bone structure under all his clothes and makeup, and his purposefully androgynous voice-- puts down two cards.

“Two aces,” He claims.

“Bluff.”

The boy smiles and flips the cards over. It was not a bluff.

Tsunade scowls and takes the sizeable stack of cards into her hand.

“So?” Tsunade asks, finally, placing down cards. “What’s a little boy like you doing in a brothel?”

Shikakuni and Inohiro look at her from where they’re sitting. She had said it quietly enough for only them to hear it.

“Ah,” The boy hums, placing down his own cards. “Just doing a favor for Kiyomizu-san.”

Tsunade rifles through her cards. 

The boy doesn’t seem at all surprised that she figured him out.

“I see,” Tsunade says. “You know, you’re underaged. It’s against civilian labor laws in Konoha for you to work outside of family business.”

“I’m not being paid,” The boy says, and Tsunade can’t tell if he’s lying. “I’m just doing a friend a favor. It’s fine as long as it’s not paid work, right?”

Tsunade scoffs.

As if she’d believe he’s not receiving anything in return.

“I win, Tsunade-hime,” *The boy smiles at her. “Shall we call that a practice match?”

 

***

 

Oh, boy, Shikakuni thinks, sipping at his sake. Tsunade-hime’s about to blow a fuse.

Inohiro sits next to him, since cooled down, and looks morbidly fascinated, like how one would look while watching something explode disastrously from a distance.

“I win again, Tsunade-hime,” Kyōichirō says, it’s hard to parse out what kind of expression he's wearing-- it’s too humble to be called smug, but a bit too close to shit-eating to be called modest. “Shall we play another round?”

Tsunade seems to pause at this-- not at his words, per se, but something seems to catch her eye.

“You,” She begins, all the anger seemingly having bled out of her. “Are you a Hatake bastard? Inuzuka?”

Kyōichirō blinks at her, still looking perfectly put together in his spectacularly layered kimono.

“... Pardon?” He sounds out.

Tsunade reaches out and grabs him by the jaw faster than any of them can react-- except, no, not faster than any of them can react-- because Kyōichirō does.

In a flash, his teeth sink into Tsunade's hand, sharp canines digging so deep that Shikakuni has to wonder if it hit bone.

Tsunade doesn't even wince, simply gripping his face harder.

Kyōichirō seems to have reacted without really thinking about it, and eventually loosens his tense grip and relaxes, letting Tsunade open his mouth.

His open mouth reveals a set of pearly white teeth, except now, they can see how long his canines are, the bottom ones sharp but his upper ones sharper and much, much longer.

“Kid,” Tsunade says, tilting Kyōichirō’s head left and right. “these aren't something genetics can make.”

When she lets go, Kyōichirō rubs his face, and something flashes across his gaze.

Shikaknui’s hair is standing on end before he knows it.

That expression had been… unsettling, and warily, he glances over at Inohiro, wondering if he felt the same thing.

Evidently, he had-- his eyes are wide as their gazes meet.

Faintly, Shikakuni wonders if that's what it felt to be prey.

But the expression is gone as soon as it appears, and Kyōichirō smiles a pleasant smile. Shikakuni feels all the more unnerved.

“... Please do not touch the courtesans, Tsunade-hime.”

Tsunade doesn't seem to be listening, inspecting her bleeding hand.

“You dug into bone, Takayanagi,” Tsunade says, and with a green glow, the puncture wounds are gone.

Kyōichirō's mouth does something like a grimace, and Shikakuni sees his tongue run over his blood-covered teeth.

It's a chilling gesture where his eyes are completely cold despite his genial expression working.

“It likely would not have happened if you had not grabbed me, Tsunade-hime.”

Tsunade scoffs, flicking her wrist.

“You haven't answered my question.”

Kyōichirō seems to shut down even further.

“There's nothing to answer,” He replies. “I'm an orphan.”

Tsunade narrows her eyes at him.

“You know exactly what it is,” She accuses. “You just don't want to talk.”

Kyōichirō smiles at her, his face betraying nothing.

“It's time for me to entertain another customer,” Kyōichirō says instead. “If you please,”

Kyōichirō gestures with his hand.

Shikakuni prepares himself to interfere. Surely this would royally tick Tsunade off, but instead, Tsunade nods, and simply gets up.

“You're malnourished,” Are Tsunade's parting words. “Come to the hospital to see me. I'll help you out.”

Kyōichirō acts as if he doesn't hear her, already sitting before the next guest, and Tsunade walks off.

“... that took ten years off my life “ Inohiro breathes out as Kyōichirō moves to the other side of the room. “I think I still have goosebumps.”

“Tell me about it,” Shikakuni rubs his neck, still feeling adrenaline course through his body. “Scary kid, that one.”

“The gall to talk to Tsunade-hime like that,” Inohiro whispers. “It was textbook polite, but…”

Shikakuni watches as Kyōichirō trounce one of the old merchants at Go.

“Did you read anything?” He asks.

Inohiro looks at him.

“Couldn't,” Inohiro sighs. “He noticed immediately.”

“Shikaku told me Inoichi tried,” Shikakuni tells him. “He got a pretty bad reaction to it.”

Inohiro glances at him.

“Well, most people don't like people mind-reading them.”

“‘Suppose so.”

Inohiro sighs even harder and pours out two cups of sake.

“Let's just stop thinking about this for now,” Inohiro says, holding up his cup.

Shikakuni picks up the second cup and nods, smiling wryly.

“You're right. I don't particularly want to be sober anymore.”

They clink their glasses and down it like a shot.

“Yikes, who pissed hime off?”

Inohiro looks up, behind Shikakuni. Shikakuni turns around curiously.

“Jiraiya,” Inohiro greets. “I didn't realize you were here.”

“All three of us are here,” Jiraiya sits down with a grunt. “The snake bastard too.”

Shikakuni takes another sip of his sake.

Huh. They must be on the other side of the establishment then.

“I didn't realize it was such a special occasion that all three of you would choose to gather.”
Shikakuni agrees. Jiraiya and Orochimaru had been obviously distant for a while now, so he agrees it’s odd for them to agree to be together, especially when Tsunade-hime aggravates the situation more often than not. Then again, those two fight and make up again so often that Shikakuni should be used to it.

Jiraiya shrugs.

“Well, you know sensei’s been sick recently, yeah?” Jiraiya shrugs. “Arrhythmia or something. Dunno. Hime would know better. But he decided to come today, and I was in the village, so we just 

Shikakuni sighs.

“That guy always acts like he’s on the verge of death whenever something pops up with his health.”

Inohiro chuckles.

“He’s been like since we were kids. He’d start reciting his will at the drop of a hat.”

“Dramatic ass.”

Jiraiya swishes his sake around in his cup.

“... Hime seems to think there’s there’s actually something up this time though. The snake bastard too.”

Ah. That would do it.

“... If even Tsunade-hime is concerned, then there must actually be something up,” Shikakuni hums. “What a shitty time for it to happen, too.”

“Well, the guy is getting on in his years.”

“You say that like you aren’t the same age as him.”

“I’m 2 years younger…!”

Shikakuni rolls his eyes.

“Same thing,” He downs the rest of his sake in one go. “... Now that I’m thinking about it, with all these elites in one room, aren’t we prime assassination targets all in one place right now? It wasn’t as if this was a secret event or anything.”

Inohiro gives him a look.

“Don’t set flags up for us, Shika…”

Shikakuni shrugs.

“Ah!” Jiraiya leaps up from his zabuton. “Ain’t that the little brat that Minato’s been makin’ friends with?”

Shikakuni turns backwards to look at what Jiraiya’s pointing at.

Ah, so Kyōichirō must’ve made his rounds and come back already.

“You know him too?” Inohiro asks. “Kyōichirō’s really been getting around, huh?”

And of course, just as they say this, they see the Sandaime sit down across Kyōichirō’s shogi board.

“Ah.”

 

***

 

Kyōichirō’s not quite sure what he’s done to deserve this, but he really does think it’s all getting out of hand.

Meeting Tsunade-hime completed a set of 3 that he already had 2 of-- he was… willing to accept that (begrudgingly), but now, having the Hokage sit in front of him, smiling at him in such a grandfatherly way, made him want to commit some drastic acts.

He hasn’t made an actual attempt since that swim in the river, but this makes him want to genuinely hang himself off the splendid cherrywood beams holding up this fine establishment.

“Hello,” The Hokage greets him. Takayanagi Kyōichirō, correct?”

And he’s already sniffed out that Kyōichirō is in disguise. Lovely.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Kyōichirō replies, smiling pleasantly. “You've heard of me?”

The Hokage smiles.

“I have, yes,” The man lifts a hand to make the first move.

“What have you heard?” Kyōichirō asks, mostly out of curiosity.

The man’s eyes flicker up at him, catching light before they’re back on the board again.

“A few things, here and there,” Sarutobi replies vaguely. Kyōichirō looks at the board, and swiftly mirrors the movement that the man had made with his pawn. “Mostly good things, I assure you.”

“Good things?” Kyōichirō parrots. “I didn’t think that would be the case.”

The Hokage breathes in a deep puff of smoke from his pipe and laughs, the dark fog billowing out of his mouth and nose.

Kyōichirō is familiar with this kind of tobacco. He himself had smoked a lighter kind, but this wasn’t completely foreign to him either.

The man was smoking some very good stuff.

Kyōichirō is envious.

“Hoh,” The Hokage begins. “So you’re at least self-aware.”

“Ah…”

Sarutobi moves his rook up the board.

“Sakumo and Minato have come on separate occasions to post an ongoing D-rank to fish you out of the Jinri River that runs through the Nara compound,” The man tells him. “And a few Uchiha clan members have also come forward to put requests to take you out of the Naka river, as well.”

Kyōichirō hums. That’s more than he thought.

“I’d really rather they didn’t,” He says. “I don’t want my submersions to cause any struggles for anyone.”

“...” The Hokage looks at him as Kyōichirō moves forward another one of his pawns. “... So it’s true. That you’re trying to drown yourself.”

“Ah,” Kyōichirō tilts his head slightly, considering before he places down his pawn. “I’m not actually trying to die, most of the time.”

“But there are times where you are. ”

“That’s true.”

Sarutobi blows out another cloud of smoke before he moves one of his pawns as well.

“What else about me is going around the rumor mill?” Kyōichirō asks. “I’m sure that’s not the only thing.”

Sarutobi glances at him.

“Well, the other things are all good things, as I’ve mentioned,” Sarutobi seems to be trying to assure him. “Orochimaru has mentioned that you’re a very bright child.”

“Hm,” Kyōichirō considers. “... You talk to Orochimaru-dono often?”

Sarutobi doesn’t seem to expect this response, but as far as Kyōichirō can tell, he manages to take it in stride.

“... Not as often as I would like,” He admits. “But now that I’ve delegated a number of tasks to other workers at the Hokage tower due to my health, I’ve found more time to spend with my students.”

“I’m sure that your doctor would have said something against your smoking if your health is failing like you say.”

Sarutobi sighs.

“Please, child,” He says long-sufferingly, “I hear enough of it from Tsunade and my wife.”

Kyōichirō smiles, covering his mouth as he does so, as is the ettiquette of workers like him. He’s also quite against the idea of showing his teeth and have the Hokage latch onto his fangs like Tsunade-hime did.

“I’m sure your students welcome your presence,” Kyōichirō returns to the topic of conversation. “From what I hear, Orochimaru-dono has taken on a number of interesting research projects.”

Sarutobi glances at him, and Kyōichirō supposes he’s catching onto his implications.

To be honest, Kyōichirō doesn’t know exactly what the research Orochimaru has been doing entails, but he does know that more often than not, when he comes out of the lab, Orochimaru smells of… yes, he smells of rotting flesh. It’s a smell Kyōichirō knows quite intimately.

It’s incredibly faint, and Kyōichirō’s only sensitive to it due to its closeness with the smell of flesh and blood, but it’s there. Other than the smell, there’s also the cling of bad qi that Kyōichirō can recognize which comes with Orochimaru entering the premises.

Kyōichirō’s fairly sure that research on dead bodies is still quite taboo in this time period, though not illegal, and Orochimaru would have to work with not only the Hokage’s permission-- several other facilities and personnel would have to be involved.

“Fascinating,” Sarutobi comments. “Considering I’ve only assigned one ongoing task to Orochimaru, and no such ‘research projects’ have passed through my hands.”

Kyōichirō looks at the board, having moved a few stages from its previous state, and moves his golden general forward to take one of the Hokage’s pawns.

“Hm,” He considers. “Perhaps, since you’ve delegated some of your tasks to other workers, something as trivial as ‘research projects’ could have never made it to your desk at all?”

“If they followed regulations, all information relating to or regarding my students is only to be approved by my stamp,” Sarutobi says, taking one of Kyōichirō’s pawns. “Very, very odd indeed.”

“Is that so?” Kyōichirō hums non-committedly, taking a rook. “Well, I wouldn’t know much of these things.”

“No, no,” The Hokage hums, his voice a low rumble. “I think you know a lot more than you’d like anyone to think.”

The Hokage’s golden general takes Kyōichirō’s king piece.

“That’s why you let me win, is it not?”

And Kyōichirō simply smiles back, mouth hidden behind the extravagant sleeves of his furisode.

“Of course not, Hokage-sama,” He says, his voice as smooth as honey. “Thank you for the game.”

 

***

 

Orochimaru is waiting for him when he returns to his initial seat, sipping at his sake alone, Jiraiya and Tsunade nowhere in sight.

“Orochimaru,” Hiruzen calls out to his student. “I’ve kept you waiting?”

Orochimaru shakes his head.

“I am just bored, not waiting, particularly,” He says, and when he looks at Hiruzen, golden eyes meeting his dark ones, Hiruzen can’t help but think--

Oh, how Orochimaru has grown up.

Perhaps Danzo is right. In his old age, he’s truly become overly sentimental.

But looking at Orochimaru, now tall and elegant like the most refined court lady, he really can’t help but mourn all the time he’d lost with this student upon becoming Hokage. Unlike Jiraiya who worked as an informant and Tsunade who acted as the head of the Konoha hospital, Hiruzen had been able to spend very little time with Orochimaru-- and it didn’t help that Orochimaru himself was an introverted recluse.

“I’m sure,” Hiruzen nods, sitting beside his student. “That this event bores you. You didn’t have to come.”

“What kind of student would I be if I didn’t come see my teacher while his health is failing?” Orochimaru mutters, taking another sip of his sake. “Are you tired? It’s late, sensei.”

Hiruzen shakes his head and lets one of the passing geisha pour him a cup of sake.

“I’m feeling just fine,” He replies. “Ah, I suppose I am a little tired.”

Orochimaru waits for him to continue, brilliant amber eyes fixed on him expectantly.

“I just met young Takayanagi,” Hiruzen tells Orochimaru after downing his sake. “We played shogi,” he laughs lowly. “He really is a bright child, just as you said. I haven’t been this wrung out from a board game since I played Shikakuni.”

Orochimaru blinks-- a faint look of surprise flickering over his face.

“Kyōichirō-kun is here?” He asks. “I wasn’t aware.”

Hiruzen rolls his shoulder, and every joint in his upper body protests creaking with each little movement. He really is getting old.

“It appears he’s standing in for one of the maiko,” Hiruzen says. “I believe it was Kiyozuru-oiran that hired him…?”

“... He let you win,” Orochimaru pieces together.

Hiruzen pauses, turning to look at his student.

“Oh?” He says. “How did you figure that out?”

Orochimaru purses his lips together as if he isn’t sure how to respond to the question.

Hiruzen feels incredibly nostalgic, seeing this habit of Orochimaru’s-- this distantly familiar look of pure, uncorrupted curiosity that Orochimaru has had since he was but a child.

(His heart aches.)

(He was aware, from the very start, that he had played favorites, and it was not fair to Tsunade or Jiraiya, but oh, how he’d loved Orochimaru like a son.)

“... Kyōichirō has played Shikaku,” He says, after a moment. “And though his win rate is low, it is impressive that he has achieved what no other person-- or Nara, has achieved before.”

It takes a moment for the name to register in Hiruzen’s head.

“... Shikakuni’s son,” He recalls. “If I recall correctly, not even Shikakuni has been able to best him in a game.”
“Indeed.”

“And Kyōichirō did?” Hiruzen considers. “Fascinating.”

“I agree,” Orochimaru responds, his gaze drifting away from their conversation, though he’s still making eye contact, as is polite. “His mental facilities are nothing short of prodigious for a 10-year-old.”

Hiruzen sips at his sake.

“He doesn’t seem to get along with Tsunade,” Hiruzen mentions. “I’d approached him after seeing him interact with her, but I couldn’t figure out what about him set her off.”

Orochimaru blinks.

“Kyōichirō is… not very pleasant to people to unnecessarily poke their noses into his business” He begins. Hiruzen observes the way Orochimaru talks-- he’d heard that Orochimaru was very adjusted to socializing now, but it seems that in front of Hiruzen, he reverts a little back to his anti-social childhood speech habits. “I’m sure Tsunade tried to examine his… unusual physical characteristics and got a little bit too close.”

“Hah,” A new voice joins their conversation, and Hiruzen finds Shikakuni taking a seat next to him, gesturing for a geisha to get them another bottle of alcohol. “‘Unpleasant’ is an understatement,” He drawls, “He bit her like a little animal.”

“ Bit her?” Hiruzen repeats.

Orochimaru looks on curiously.

“Yes, with those death-trap teeth of his,” Shikakuni tells them, pouring himself a cup of shochu. “Well, it wasn’t unwarranted.”

“Elaborate,” Orochimaru says before Hiruzen can respond.

Shikakuni glances at him.

“The princess tried to gamble with him, first of all,” And Hiruzen has to close his eyes to stop himself from having an aneurysm. “And of course, she was losing miserably.”

Hiruzen presses his head to his hands.

“Of course she was,” He sighs.

“And all of a sudden while Kyōichirō was speaking the princess just grabbed him by his jaw-- so this kid freaked out and bit her.”

“Ah, so reflexively?” Hiruzen hums. “I did notice that some of his face powder had been rubbed off, but I’d assumed that was because he was touching his own face…”

“You don’t know him very well, Sandaime-sama,” Shikakuni says lazily, but there’s a resigned lilt to his voice. “But that kid would never be caught dead doing anything so inelegant and unrefined.”

Hiruzen laughs at that.

“Tsunade thought he was an Inuzuka or Hatake bastard,” Shikakuni drawls, a wry smile pulling at his lips. “Apparently his teeth dug right into her bone.”

Hiruzen blinks, surprised.

“... I see what you meant by unique biology now,” He says to Orochimaru. “I had heard some rumors about him being a vampire when they passed through the rumor mill, but I didn’t think they had any fact to them…”

Shikakuni shrugs.

“Well, I don’t know anything about him being a vampire , specifically,” He replies. “I just know his teeth aren’t normal for regular people.”

Orochimaru nods slowly.

“I did notice his teeth being quite sharp in comparison to other people, but when I saw them, they could still be considered a genetic quirk. So this means that they’ve grown since I last saw him…” Orochimaru contemplates. “I’ll check on them when I see him tomorrow.”

Hiruzen glances at his student.

“You’re seeing him tomorrow?”

“I see him once a week for a meal in the evenings at the izakaya across the Akimichi barbeque restaurant,” Orochimaru explains to him dutifully. “... Will you join us?”

He sees Shikakuni stare at Orochimaru, wide-eyed.

“... I’ll see if I can,” Hiruzen says. It’s the first time in a long time that Orochimaru has invited him for a meal.

He’s rather looking forward to it.

… He’s sure that Koharu and Homura can handle the evening office duties tomorrow.

Notes:

Thank you for reading <33

As usual, here's my Twitter !

Chapter 16: ethics, morals, society

Summary:

Kyōichirō has debates with a two people, both of which he thinks are quite juvenile. Also, Vicente.

Notes:

Kyōichirō characterization has been TAKING ME OUT but anyway have a chapter, and just a reminder: Just because I write Kyōichirō certain way does NOT mean I agree with him or think what he's doing or that his beliefs mirror mine. Kyōichirō is very much nothing like me both personality and moral-wise.
Edit: reminder this fic is self indulgent so their might be plot points you don't like and I do feel bad about that but I don't intend on changing them 😞
Thanks for waiting for this chapter, hope you enjoy <3
As always, here's my Twitter !

“I found you!” 

Kyōichirō  startles, leaping out of his skin.

He turns around, meeting eyes with a very angry, very familiar blonde woman.

“... Tsunade-hime,” He greets, voice level. “Good afternoon.”

“So this is where you were,” Tsunade huffs, plopping down next to him on his mat.

Kyōichirō  takes a moment to prepare a cup of tea for her.

“I was waiting for you all morning,” She scolds.

She says that, but Kyōichirō  is 99% sure that she didn't expect him to show up either way.

“You’re just as bad as a ninja,” She complains as he places her cup beside her. “Would it kill you to follow a medic’s directions?”

Kyōichirō  watches as she picks up the cup and takes a sip.

“... This is good.” She says.

Kyōichirō  nods at her and smiles politely as he can.

“It’s my blend,” He tells her. “Though it comes out different every time.”

“Oh?” Tsunade begins mildly. “What tea leaves did you use?”

“Well--”

A glint of silver in Tsunade’s hand, and Kyōichirō  immediately leaps, darting up and away.

“Damn it,” Tsunade curses. The thing in her hand is a syringe, Kyōichirō  realizes. An empty one. “Your reflexes are too damn good for a non-ninja kid…!”

“What are you trying to do with that?” Kyōichirō  asks, trying to keep his tone pleasant. “I don’t appreciate being stabbed mid-conversation.”

“It’s just a blood test!” Tsunade snaps. “You refuse to come to the hospital, so I’ve decided to bring the hospital to you.”

The reason Kyōichirō  didn’t go to the hospital wasn’t that he was going through all the trouble to avoid Tsunade-- no, in fact, to avoid this kind of confrontation, he would have gone and got a checkup if the smell of blood in the hospital wouldn’t send him reeling.

“... Okay,” Kyōichirō  says, approaching her cautiously. “I can sit still for a blood test.”

Tsunade puffs up triumphantly as Kyōichirō  pushes his sleeve up for her to draw blood. He trusts the person called the ‘Greatest Medic’ not to inject air into his bloodstream and kill him.

Tsunade pushes the needle into his vein and draws blood, and Kyōichirō  watches calmly.

“Are you going to take that back to the hospital to test?” Kyōichirō  asks.

Tsunade looks at him, blinks, and then shakes her head, pulling a piece of shiny paper from her breast.

“...” Kyōichirō  looks on curiously. “Is that chakra paper?”

“Something like that,” Tsunade replies, pushing a few drops of blood onto the paper for it to absorb before putting the rest into a tube in her pocket. 

She flicks the paper a few times once it’s absorbed as if trying to dry it before she squints at it. Kyōichirō  watches in fascination as it changes color.

“Yep,” She says. “You’re malnourished.” She looks at him. “Which is strange, considering all those guys say you have a good appetite.”

Kyōichirō  blinks.

That paper is awfully convenient. Healthcare back in his previous world would have been so much easier with something like this. It’s immediate.

Tsunade frowns at him when he doesn’t respond, and points to the piece of rice cake on the paper plate next to his cup of tea.

“Eat that for me,” Tsunade says, putting a hand on his bare arm. “I’m going to run some chakra through you, so don’t fight it back.”

Kyōichirō  nods, stabs the rice cake, puts it in his mouth, and chews.

Kyōichirō ’s staring at his arm intently, palm glowing green.

He can feel the energy thrumming through his entire body, especially in his stomach. After swallowing, he immediately feels it go into his stomach and digest. It must be Tsunade that’s speeding the process up.

“... You’re not absorbing any of the nutrients,” She comments, frowning. “Then it must be true.”

Ah.

Kyōichirō  nods, after hesitating for a brief moment.

“You really are a vampire,” Tsunade says, looking… rather fascinated actually.

“Not a vampire,” Kyōichirō  scrunches up his nose and denies adamantly. “Vampires aren’t real. I’m just ill.”

Tsunade rolls her eyes.

“Sure,” She drawls, putting a hand into her deep haori pocket. “Lucky for you, I’ve got just the thing for your illness .”

From her pocket, she pulls out a bag of blood.

Kyōichirō  freezes, then looks up at her.

“Here,” She puts it in his hands, takes out a straw, and stabs it into the bag for him because of course she does. “... Wait, does the type matter? I just got type O.”

Kyōichirō  nods a bit dumbly, feeling the most caught off-guard he’s felt since he woke up in this world.

“... Thank you,” He manages, before he presses the straw to his lips and takes a sip.

It’s the most satisfying meal he’s had in a while.

Tsunade puts her hand on his wrist again, and her chakra seeps through his skin and through his muscles and into his stomach.

“Holy shit,” She whispers. “You’re absorbing that fast .”

Kyōichirō  takes his mouth off the straw after a moment and licks his canines.

“You know,” Tsunade begins. “That’s why everyone thinks you’re a vampire, aside from the whole blood-drinking thing,” She points out. “That teeth-licking thing is really… vampire.”

Kyōichirō  frowns thoughtfully. He hadn’t realized he had that habit.

Well, now that he knows, he can get rid of it.

“Come to the hospital to find me if you ever need your fix,” Tsunade tells him.

Kyōichirō  nods.

“Thank you.”

“Do you have a type you prefer?” She asks.

“Type B,” Kyōichirō  says.
“Easy,” Tsunade says. “Does that mean you eat other food just to look normal?”

Kyōichirō  shakes his head.

“I can still enjoy the taste of any regular food, so that’s what I eat it for. I guess it does help me look normal, too.”

Tsunade hums, before taking a sip of her tea again.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to be staying. The tea is good.”

Kyōichirō  nods, and goes back to his blood pouch.

 

***

Kyōichirō  stares.

Sarutobi Hiruzen stares back.

“... Hello, Hokage-sama,” Kyōichirō  greets, as is polite, before he gives Orochimaru a questioning glance. “Orochimaru-dono…?”

“I invited him,” Orochimaru says. “I do hope that is alright with you.”

Kyōichirō  nods slowly, and lifts the teapot to pour the Hokage a cup of tea.

“Is the Hokage tower not busy this evening?” He asks, pushing the cup towards the old man.

“The rest of the paperwork today is D-rank mission administrative work,” The Hokage replies. “it's being handled already.”

Ah, so he’s foisted the work onto other people.

“You’re bothering Koharu-sama and Homura-sama with your work again, sensei,” Orochimaru says, but his words have a playful lilt, like he’s talking about an inside joke.

Kyōichirō  doesn’t think he’s ever seen Orochimaru-dono look this… domestic, if that’s the closest word.

“They’ll manage,” the Hokage replies. “Thank you, Kyōichirō .”

Kyōichirō  nods. 

“It’s no problem, Hokage-sama,” Kyōichirō  replies demurely.

“Hokage-sama, Orochimaru-sama!,” The waitress greets them surprisedly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you two together here!”

This waitress was one of the older women-- If Kyōichirō  recalled correctly, her husband was the fishmonger at the market who he often ran errands for.

It’s the first time he’s seen her work here at the izakaya, and he’s a regular, but judging by her words, she must have come back from an extended break. Perhaps she’d just returned to work after having children. Did that family have children? Kyōichirō  can’t quite recall.

“Ah, Kiyoko-san,” The Hokage greets familiarly. “Yes, it’s been a while. Since Orochimaru’s Jonin promotion, I believe.”

Ah, so she did work here before.

“Hoho!” The woman laughs. “Time flies, doesn’t it!” Her voice is hearty and quite baritone for a woman of her age. “Orochimaru grew so much with me knowing! This must be what it’’s like to get old!”

The Hokage chortles along with her.

“Don’t say that, Kiyoko-san, you’re still quite young yet!”

Orochimaru looks on them, golden eyes showing that he was listening intently.

He’s not usually that engaged with pointless conversation like this, Kyōichirō  thinks as he sips at his tea. Perhaps it's because of his sentiment for his teacher that’s causing him to act like this.

“Oh, shush, Hokage-sama,” Kiyoko waves her hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “You really never change!”

“Hoho!”

“And Orochimaru,” Kiyoko turns to him. “It’s definitely been a while! Look how tall you’ve gotten!”

Orochimaru nods.

“It has been,” Orochimaru surprisingly replies quite pleasantly to this mundane chatter. “You certainly haven’t changed much, Kiyoko-dono.”

“You and Hiruzen,” Kyōichirō  wonders if she notices that she’d slipped back to a more familiar term of address. “Both of you, seriously.”

Finally, her eyes flicker up and meet Kyōichirō ’s.

Kyōichirō  dips his head.

“Hello, Sawamura-san,” He greets. “How has your husband been doing?”

“Kyōichirō !” She exclaims, walking over and hugging him to her breast. “It’s been a while! Kenji’s been doing just fine, what a good kiddo you are. What are you doing here with the Hokage and Orochimaru?”

“Ah, we became acquainted,” Kyōichirō  replies, prying himself away from her hug. “It’s good to hear that he’s doing well.”

The woman laughs.

She’s a rather laughy woman, Kyōichirō  thinks.

“Anyway,” She changes the subject. “Sorry to keep ya’ll, here are your menus,” “She places the menus on the tables. “Today's special dish is squid!”

“Thank you, Kiyoko-san,” Kyōichirō  thanks the woman, and Orochimaru nods at her.

“No problem!” She waves them off. “Now, I’ll be getting back to work! Just wave one of us over when you’re ready to order.”

“Do you like squid, Hokage-sama?” Kyōichirō asks, making conversation. While he doesn’t particularly enjoy socializing, he would say he wasn’t terrible at it, and at least he wouldn’t leave awkward silences that last for too long at a time.

“Ah,” The Hokage smiles. “I often have roasted squid with my evening sake.”

“Against Biwako-sama’s wishes.,” Orochimaru comments dryly. “She’s told you multiple times to cut back on the alcohol and the tobacco.”

“Isn’t it fine?” Kyōichirō says nonchalantly, flipping through the menu. “Hokage-sama’s life is his own. I doubt that those habits will end his life significantly faster. Perhaps he’s not too worried because Tsunade-sama is his student.”

Kyōichirō  blinks when no one responds, and looks up from the menu.

“... Is something wrong?” Kyōichirō asks.

“Honestly,” Orochimaru sighs, taking a sip of tea. “I’m not sure what I was expecting.”

The Hokage is looking at him with rather wide eyes.

Kyōichirō  considers for a moment.

“Ah,” He feels a lightbulb going off in his head. “Is it because I said that Hokage-sama’s life is his own? I suppose if you look at it from a different perspective-- he is responsible for this entire village, so there would be concerns if he were to die, but the way I see it, there are already multiple candidates prepared to replace him.”

The Hokage stares even harder-- not smiling, but not frowning either. Intrigued, if Kyōichirō  had to guess.

“... Do you not think of each life as individually significant, Kyōichirō -kun?” The Hokage asks, and there’s no hostility in his voice.

Kyōichirō  hums.

“... I believe that each individual can contribute something to the society,” Kyōichirō  replies carefully. “So each life does have its significance.”

“Ah, perhaps I phrased that wrong,” The Hokage strokes his beard in consideration. “What I meant is, do you believe in the innate value of a life, regardless of their contribution to society or not?”

 

***

 

There’s something so… knowing, about the curve of his lips, a ghost of something too old for its ten-year-old skin.

Right, Kyōichirō  will be eleven in a week.

Orochimaru has always thought this, but there is something so terribly wrong with this boy named Kyōichirō .

“First, I believe we must question the position of societal contribution in this topic,” Kyōichirō  says. “Because a life where societal contribution isn’t present is almost impossible to imagine.”

“Why?” Sensei asks. “There are plenty of people who don’t ‘contribute’ to our society in a strict sense. Such as the elderly and the disabled.”

“Why do you say that?” Kyōichirō  asks. “The elderly have their wisdom that can be passed down generations, and the highly disabled live because of compassion, and therefore teach the society this core human value. Their existence also furthers scientific research that also teaches us how to prevent disabilities from happening and also how to retrieve the best out of such individuals.”

Orochimaru has never been one who enjoyed debating about emotional semantics like ethics and morals, but listening to it being approached in this logical form… he finds he doesn’t hate it at all.

“If you put it that way,” The Hokage concedes. “Then as long as someone is able to fill an individual’s role in society, you believe their loss to be inconsequential?”

“Inconsequential?” Kyōichirō  repeats. “No. But it is a consequence that can be persisted through. Logically speaking, of course.”

“That’s… quite a cold way of looking at it,” Hokage says. “But I suppose it’s not untrue.”

Cold… yes, indeed. That was a word that described Kyōichirō .

He’d seen countless times, seen the child doing those so called ‘good deeds’, yes, but he’s always questioned that altruism that Kyōichirō  displays to others. He denies it, but it’s quite obvious he does them quite… intentionally.

“Then about ‘compassion’, or rather, ‘goodness’,” Orochimaru begins. “Do you really think it is necessary for a more efficient society?”

Sensei looks at him from the side.

They’d argued about this countless times, about the experiments that sensei forbade because they were ‘unethical’. It feels awfully strange, to ask such a question to a child and expect an insightful answer, but he’s sure that everyone who’s spoken to Kyōichirō  has felt this way before–

That Kyōichirō  is not a child.

“What a nostalgic line of questioning,” Kyōichirō  says. “I once had a debate with someone about something very similar,” The boy pours himself another cup of tea. “Well then, what is the answer you want to hear?”

“Elaborate,” Orochimaru says.

“Indeed, Kyōichirō -kun,” Sensei nods. “I’m quite curious what you mean by that.”

Kyōichirō  wipes his hands on the warm towel that the waitresses placed in front of him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Do you want to hear a logical answer, or an ethical answer?” Kyōichirō  asks.

“A logical one,” Orochimaru replies immediately.

Sensei’s expression twists. Orochimaru can’t find it in himself to care– he’s grown tired of these debates with sensei where all the responses he receives are only fueled by emotions and arbitrary ethical ideas.

What he wants is a concrete, logical answer.

Why was it wrong for them to cut the fat to create a more efficient society?

Kyōichirō  smiles at him knowingly.

“There isn’t one.”

“What do you mean by that?” Orochimaru asks, maybe a little more snappily than necessary.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Kyōichirō  replies. “There probably isn’t a logical answer to the question in the world that can satisfy you. In the end, you’re living in a society, with other people, run by other people, who aren’t purely logical like you think you yourself are.”

“ Think I am ?” Orochimaru repeats. “I don’t think I’m logical, I am logical.”

“Orochimaru.” Sensei pipes up. “Deep down, all people are emotional. It’s part of being human.”

Kyōichirō  hums, putting the towel down.

“That’s not necessarily true,” Kyōichirō  replies. “People that aren’t emotional exist,” He says. “But Orochimaru-dono, I don’t believe you’re one of them.”

“Are you implying that you’re one of those unemotional people?” Sensei asks Kyōichirō .

“Hah!” Kyōichirō  scoffs. Orochimaru doesn’t think he’s ever heard Kyōichirō  sound so derisive before. “Hardly,” Kyōichirō  takes a sip of his tea. “I think I’m a rather emotional one.”

Sensei doesn’t respond, but his expression shows he’s listening, waiting for Kyoichiuro to continue.

“Let’s put it this way,” Kyōichirō  begins, setting down his cup. “Orochimaru-dono,” He raises a hand, index finger limply raised, and it moves, and lands on Sensei’s cup of tea. “Just now, when I poured Hokage-sama’s cup of tea, I slipped in a large amount of arsenic. It’s tasteless, odorless, and colorless. Hokage-sama didn’t notice.”

It takes him a second to process that, and out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Sensei’s eyes go wide, and before he knows it, he’s grabbed Sensei’s wrist and run a diagnostic on him.

One beat. Two beats.

Nothing.

It takes another second to process that Kyōichirō  didn’t actually put arsenic into Sensei’s tea, but a scenario he was posing.

“... Ah,” Orochimaru nods. “And?” He prompts Kyōichirō  to continue his scenario.

“There’s no ‘and’,” Kyōichirō  smiles, his two small hands still wrapped around his cup. “You reacted, didn’t you?”

That makes him pause.

“... I did.”

Sensei looks at Kyōichirō , eyes still wide.

“What makes you think that Orochimaru didn’t react out of fascination that you managed to poison me without either of us noticing?”

Kyōichirō  cocks his head to the side.

“Fascination wouldn’t be in such a rush, would it?” Kyōichirō asks. “Fascination doesn’t care whether you’re dead or not. Either way, if you died or not, the poison would still be in there for him to investigate.”

“.. Indeed.”

“That’s why,” Kyōichirō  begins. “I believe arguing whether or not emotional concepts like ‘compassion’ or ‘kindness’ are necessary for a functional society is redundant,” Kyōichirō  finishes. ‘Because either way, emotions exist, even within more logical people. People work to reap the benefits of that work. Sometimes, that benefit is being able to provide for a disabled family member– and in that case, if we took out all the ‘useless’ people to create an ‘efficient’ society, I’m sure there are a good chunk of people who would rebel. There’ve been studies done that show workers who receive kindness from their superiors work better anyway..”

“Studies?” Sensei repeats. “I haven’t heard of any studies like that being done.”

“Of course there have been, in China–” Kyōichirō  halts. “Ah, I must have seen it in the paper or something.”

Orochimaru glances at Sensei, and Sensei looks back.

Kyōichirō  was definitely saying something just now.

“Back to our topic,” Kyōichirō  turns back to them. “Did that answer satisfy you?”

Orochimaru considers.

“... Yes,” He replies. “It did.”

“Very good then,” Kyōichirō  raises his hand. “Let’s place our orders, shall we?”

They place their orders in a rather somber, but not quite uncomfortable silence, and they sit in that quiet for a moment after the waitress walks off before sensei speaks again,

“Kyōichirō -kun,” Sensei begins. “Earlier, you said that you’d debated about a similar topic.”

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

Kyōichirō  looks down at his cup and chuckles.

“Something that had an illogical answer, just like how I replied to Orochimaru-dono.”

“Oh?” Sensei prompts. “Do tell.”

“Well…”

 

***

 

“Sensei,” A voice asks. “Why is it wrong to kill people?”

Kyōichirō  finishes wiping down the blackboard before he turns around.

“Ogimoto,” He acknowledges, pulling his pipe out of his kimono.

Class had just ended, and all the other students had since left.

Ogimoto Shin looks at him, eyes clear, his gakuran perfectly pristine as always. He'd always been a star student– Kyōichirō  had taught Ogimoto’s first year homeroom, and had been surprised that he’d enrolled for the ethics elective for his second year.

A perfect young boy– that is, in every outward way possible. A spectacular social life, lots of friends surrounding him.

And Kyōichirō  has always been ever-so intrigued by this young boy, because every kind word he spouted would ooze with insincerity, every good deed done with exceeding calculation, every glance, every movement done with such purposeful intention it made Kyōichirō ’s skin crawl.

That was the most fascinating part, the part that so endeared this boy to Kyōichirō , though they had spoken so very little.

(Though, it didn’t even hold a candle to Vicente– he was truly something else. Far past the point of cunning– something… other .)

“Would you repeat your question?” Kyōichirō asks, walking over to the window to slide it open and sit on the ledge.

“Why is it wrong to kill people?” The boy repeats.

“Hmm,” Kyōichirō  takes a puff from his pipe, considering. “That’s quite a juvenile question, isn’t it?”

Something flits quickly over the boy’s face– surprise– he hadn't been expecting such a response, then irritation, before settling back to his pleasant, wide-eyed-innocence as fast as it disappeared.

“What do you mean, sensei?”

Kyōichirō  cracks his neck.

“Ah, apologies, I didn’t mean to sound so demeaning,” Kyōichirō  apologizes, though he knows despite the boy’s pleasantness, the damage had already been done. “‘Why is it wrong to kill people’,” Kyōichirō  repeats. “That’s quite difficult.”

“It’s a difficult question,” Ogimoto agrees amicably.

“No, not that,” Kyōichirō  presses his pipe to his lips again, breathing out another plume of smoke from his lips towards the outside. “I’m not sure what answer you want to hear.”

The boy stays silent, standing still, waiting for him to continue.

“First off,” Kyōichirō  says. “Wouldn’t you be sad if your parents suddenly died, or if your friends suddenly betrayed you and stabbed you in the back? The fact that someone else is affected is what makes it bad, if we follow the general rule of thumb about what ‘good’ and ‘bad’ is.”

He knows it’s not the answer that Ogimoto wants to hear, but he takes pleasure in watching the barely-there irritation flash in the boy’s eyes.

Ogimoto must think he hides that exceptionally well, Kyōichirō  thinks, tapping his pipe on the windowsill gently. And that everyone else, grownups and children alike, are all stupid.

Well, Kyōichirō  can’t blame him– just one glance at his student profile tells him that this boy has succeeded his entire life.

“I understand that, and I agree that it’s bad,” The boy lies. “But I want to hear a logical answer– but what if someone dies, and no one is affected by their death? I understand that there are wars and death penalties and the such, but most grown-ups find that to be understandable.”

Kyōichirō  considers for a moment.

“True enough,” He replies, and the boy looks surprised. “In the first place, to answer this question, we’d have to debate what is good and what is bad, wouldn’t we?”

The boy stares at him, surprise seemingly growing. It seemed like he wasn’t expecting an answer like that, either.

Kyōichirō  wonders, for a moment, what exactly Ogimoto was expecting when he asked such a question. He’s sure that he’s not the first grown-up that the boy had asked, and he’s sure that a majority– if not all– of the responses had been indignation or some other emotional or dismissive response.

“Yes,” Ogimoto replies. “I suppose we would.”

“You can pull out a chair and have a seat, Ogimoto,” Kyōichirō  says, taking another puff of his pipe. “I’m sure you’re aware this might end in quite a long conversation.

Ogimoto politely nods and pulls a chair out to sit near him.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Kyōichirō  says. “And though I believe it’s wrong to kill others, my ideas come from a more ethical basis, and as you’ve said, that’s not the answer you want to hear. So,” Kyōichirō  looks Ogimoto in the eye. “I have a question to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Do you know why I smoke in the classrooms instead of in the staff room that’s a proper smoking area?”

“No…?”

“Because Nagasawa-sensei always chases me out,” Kyōichirō  replies. “She says she can’t stand breathing in the secondhand smoke.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Nagasawa-sensei.”

“Ah, but that’s the only smoking area on campus,” Kyōichirō  responds. “So who do you think is in the wrong? Nagasawa-sensei, who denies my rights to smoke in the appropriate place, or me, who forces my coworkers to breathe in secondhand smoke?”

The boy pauses, and seems to be thinking about his answer.

“I’m not sure…”

Kyōichirō  huffs, amused, and blows the smoke in his lungs directly at Ogimoto.

The child coughs, and turns away.

“That,” Kyōichirō  begins. “Was that pleasant for you?”

The boy frowns, eyes watering, confused.

“No,” He replies, coughing a few more times.

“Then what if I were to make you strip here?”

The boy eyes him cautiously

“... Is that what you’re into?”

“Of course not,” Kyōichirō  snorts, taking another inhale from his pipe. “But think about it. It’s not right for me to force the other teachers into breathing in my second hand smoke, it’s not right for me to blow smoke into your face, it’s not right for me to make you strip.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’d like to shove my pipe into your eye socket right now,” Kyōichirō  says. “Would that be alright?”

“... Are you saying that seriously?”

Kyōichirō  tilts his head to the side, smiling.

“And if I were?”

“I wouldn’t like that,” The boy replies.

Kyōichirō  huffs out another derisive laugh, and the boy bristles.

“Why?”

That makes the boy pause again.

A dilemma, truly, Kyōichirō  thinks, watching the boy. You weigh your answer between just saying ‘because it’d be unpleasant for me’ and ‘you should have the freedom to do what you want’.

“Society is full of these rules,” Kyōichirō  explains. “It’s just the way we function. It’d be one thing if you’re just by yourself all the time, but once other people get involved, everything becomes complicated, and then all these arbitrary rules and expectations are made.I actually find it quite funny when children such as you ask such questions,” He takes a drag of his pipe. “I hear a lot of similar questions all the time– such as why is it wrong to bully a classmate, why is it wrong to skip class, why is it wrong to not study, why is it wrong to build a campfire in the playground,-- it goes on. Asking why killing people is wrong specifically, that is simply the most extreme version of those questions,” Kyōichirō  taps his pipe to settle the tobacco again. “And it makes me think,” He continues. “That you’re asking such an extreme question just to get a rise out of the adults. Just to make them uncomfortable.”

A barely perceptible flinch.

“But I really want to know,” The boy insists, and Kyōichirō  can sense some truth in it.

“Society is simply full of rules,” Kyōichirō  repeats. “Even if we don’t agree with all of them. “Things we steal we can just give back. Objects broken can usually be fixed. But once a human life is taken, it’s gone forever.”

“Is human life really so beautiful that it’s more important than anything else?”

Kyōichirō  chuckles.

“That’s not what I’m saying, though I value the existence of other humans quite a bit,” Kyōichirō  replies. “But let’s put it this way. I have an incredibly valuable historical artifact, and then I decide to burn it. There’s only one of them in the world. Isn’t it a waste to destroy something that can continue to be studied to enrich our society?”

The boy looks at him, not comprehending, and seemingly growing tired of all of his abstract responses.

“But–”

“So,” Kyōichirō  cuts him off. “Now that I’ve sufficiently given you all of those thoughts, let me tell you my final conclusion.”

The boy’s mouth clamps shut, and he listens.

“If there was nothing wrong with murder– or rather, if murder became legal, the state simply could not function.”

“What do you mean?”

“If people knew that they could be killed at any time, anywhere, they would not work. The economy would halt. They would revolt. The government would be overthrown. Our society would completely halt in its progress. Because although it sounds bad, people only work for their own agendas. If their agendas– making a living, being able to survive, making money, cannot be fulfilled– because in a world like that, money would be redundant–, there would simply be no incentive to continue running a country.”

“...”

“Now,” Kyōichirō  turns to the boy. “Moving onto my personal opinion, that is not logical and quite arbitrary. I don’t think killing is inherently wrong.”

The boy blinks.

“... Pardon?”

“I don’t believe in carelessly assigning ‘good’ and ‘bad’ to things either,” Kyōichirō  continues. “To kill or not to kill is ultimately a choice that’s completely up to the individual. The only thing that matters is the consequences of the murder which in the end, though other people are involved, is something the killer must shoulder. So kill, if you think you really can,” Kyōichirō  empties his tobacco out the window.

The boy stares at him, dumbfounded.

“Did you find that answer satisfactory?” Kyōichirō  asks. “I spoke a lot.”

“... It was,” The boy says.

“Then you should pack up and head to your club activities,” Kyōichirō  looks at him. “Or you’ll be running late.”

The boy nods, puts his chair back, and heads for the door.

“Ah,” Kyōichirō  calls out. “Tell Narita that I’m here to help him if he needs anything, hm?”

The boy freezes just as his hand lands on the door handle, and he turns to look at him, eyes wide.

Kyōichirō  simply smiles.

“It would be awful if he had no support while being bullied, hm?” Kyōichirō  cleans his pipe benignly.

“... Yes, sir.”

And Ogimoto leaves immediately.

Kyōichirō  chuckles.

He’s really not too sure he got through to that boy, but he tried, and in the end, the responsibility does not lie with him.

He really did love pompous little children like Ogimoto, he thinks, polishing the brass of his pipe. At that age, countless children question juvenile things like that– but they always seem to think they’re philosophical geniuses– as if they’re the only ones who’d ever thought of such a controversial line of questioning.

If Kyōichirō  had to make a comparison, he thinks bragging about a silly little chuunibyou phase like that was like bragging about having a cold. Everyone’s had a cold before, and they all got over it.

Talking about such a topic in such a boastful way is something that Kyōichirō  will always find amusing. It’s like showing off that you’re still hung up on something so childish.

Well, Kyōichirō  supposes, putting his pipe away. He supposes that makes him quite the immature person too.

 

***

 

Vicente takes a seat next to the sterile white hospital bed and watches the figure lying in it quietly.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kyōichirō  look so defenseless before.

He brushes a lock of glossy black hair out of Kyōichirō ’s face.

“Wake up,” He tells Kyōichirō . “You’ve been keeping me waiting for quite a while, hm?”

The sleeping body in the bed does not respond, and Vicente relaxes back into his seat, opens a book, and reads quietly by Kyōichirō ’s side.

Notes:

the whole debate with Ogimoto was very inspired by Bullet Train because it mirrors my own thoughts abt the subject to a T.
Anyways, thank you for reading!! <33
As always, here is my

Chapter 17: his skin crawls, and his stomach sinks. It's wonderful.

Summary:

From Imu to Kyoichiro, and from there to Vicente.
Love does not only take one form.
Love cannot be contained, cannot be defined.

***

Today, Sakumo will come home.

Notes:

I think a lot of people misunderstood the previous chapter!! it is not the 'it was all a dream' plot twist!!! it is something else!!
Also, sorry this chapter was promised earlier, but it kicked my butt near the end lmao
haven't read over yet, but please enjoy first!!

January, 2015:

 

Imu's death was rather anticlimactic, all things considered.

“Imu-sensei,” Kyōichirō smiles. “You really never change.”

He arranges the flowers he bought into a vase and places it by her bedside.

“I don't even know where to begin,” he looks at her. “First off, smoking isn't allowed in the hospital, Imu-sensei.”

The woman rolls her eyes.

Kyōichirō looks at the top of her head.

Her roots are coming in.

“Let a woman live,” She rolls her eyes. “Don't you have anything better to be doing? Dates to be going on?”

“You're the only one for me, sensei.”

She rolls her eyes even harder.

“You don't change either, you cheeky little brat.”

Kyōichirō just smiles, plucking the cigarette out of her hands.

“I'll be confiscating these, sensei,” Kyōichirō says. “Honestly, smoking in your hospital room after being admitted for lung cancer…”

Imu lets him do as he pleases.

“I hear enough of it from the nurses, I don't need to hear it from you too.”

Kyōichirō sighs, pinching the butt of her cigarette with his bare fingers.

“And those flowers,” Imu points. “I’ve been telling you again and again that I don't need the damn things.”

“I have the money to spare, so why not?”

Imu squints at him.

“... Did you go back to working for Yamaguchi-gumi or something?”

“Of course not,” Kyōichirō replies, sitting himself down by her hospital bed. “ButI saved up a lot when I was working at the university.”

Imu scowls.

“I hated that place.”

Kyōichirō smiles.

“I know.”

Obviously, since she quit working at that prestigious university, where he went out of his way to graduate early from high school just to meet her there, and started working at the backwater high school where they were now.

Imu huffs, crossing her arms over her chest like a child.

“Ah,” Kyōichirō begins anew, pulling his party popper out of his pocket as he speaks. “But I am joining the roster of Osawa High School next year. Yay.”

The popper explodes and streamers fly all over the foot of Imu’s bed.

“You seriously follow me everywhere!” Imu hisses, and kicks her feet, jostling the confetti. “And you’re one to talk about pissing the nurses off…!”

“I’m not following you anywhere, considering you quit and resigned yourself to dying in a hospital bed!” Kyōichirō chirps.

“You little–!”

“Anyway,” Kyōichirō bowls right over her. “Marry me, sensei?”

Imu makes a strangled noise and claps a hand over the side of her neck, shaking with anger.

Kyōichirō looks at her.

“Sensei. If you keep that up, then it’s not going to be the cancer that kills you, but your blood pressure.”

“Who’s fault is that?!”

Kyōichirō laughs softly.

Imu scowls at him furiously.

“I’ll marry you over my cold dead, cancer-infested body…!” She hisses. “Now piss off, give me some peace!”

“But I only got here 15 minutes ago?”

“God, it feels like it’s been hours!”

“How mean,” Kyōichirō says, smiling.

“Kyōiichirō!” Yukie Naoto flings open the door to the hospital room and storms inside. “Stop bothering my auntie!”

“I told you to stop calling me auntie, you little shit!”

“Please don’t yell in the hospital!” One of the nurses snaps from the open door.

“Ah, Yukie-kun,” Kyōichirō ruffles the head of a very disgruntled elementary schooler. “How has school been?”

“Shouldn’t you be back home, you little brat?” Imu asks. “You and your parents should have left after they visited– twenty minutes ago!”

“I knew Kyōichirō would time his visit after I left!” Yukie points an accusing finger at him. “You bastard! You– you stalker! Sexual harassment!”

“Pfft–”

“Tsk.”

What are they teaching these elementary school children? Where did he learn that word?

“You…!” Yukie stares at him, eyes wide, so absolutely infuriated that Kyōichirō isn’t sure how it hasn’t exploded his tiny little body from the inside yet. “You just clicked your tongue at me! Auntie, Kyōichirō just clicked his tongue at me!”

“What did I do?” Kyōichirō smiles his usual relaxed smile.

“Auntie, auntie, that’s the smile of the devil!” Yukie screeches.

“Stop yelling inside the hospital, please!” The nurse sounds like she’s on the verge of tears from outside the hospital room door.

Kyōichirō smiles benignly at the little boy as he fumes.

“Shall we call your parents, Yukie-kun?” He asks. “I’m sure they’re worried sick looking for you.”

Yukie hisses at him like a stray kitten.

All of them know that his parents probably haven’t even noticed that he was gone.

“Did I raise you to be this much of a prick?” Imu muses to herself.

“I’m sure he came like this auntie!” Yukie chirps to her.

Imu nods solemnly.

“Right. He did, didn’t he?”

“I’m right here, you know?”

Imu ignores him.

Kyōichirō smiles, because everything is as it should be.

 

***

 

Imu dies a month later.

“... Aren’t you sad?”

Kyōichirō looks down at little Yukie Naoto, who’s standing by his side, eyes red rimmed from his bawling and cheeks still wet.

Kyōichirō hums, smiling, and considers the sight of the grave in front of them, surrounded by luscious green grass, illuminated by the clear sky overhead.

“... I suppose I am,” He replies. “She never accepted my proposal in the end, huh…”

“Of course she wouldn’t!” Yukie snaps at him, mostly out of habit than actually having the energy to do so.

“How rude, I’ll have you know I’m quite the desirable bachelor.”

Yukie’s lips curl downwards, disgusted.

To Kyōiichirō, he still looks like a baby, but little Yukie is already in his first year of high school.

“... Lots of tasteless people out and about nowadays.”

Kyōichirō laughs.

“You learnt too much from Imu, honestly,” Kyōichirō says. “What has she been teaching these kids?”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Kyōichirō acquiesces silently at that.

“... Stupid auntie,” Yukie whispers. “I kept telling her to stop smoking–”

“She didn’t even die because of the smoking, it was actually–”

“I know!” Yukie snaps again. “Geez, let me be sentimental! I should be able to fall to my knees at her grave and go ‘damn it, auntie! I told you those things were killing you!’ and then sob over her headstone, or something like they do in the animes or whatever.”

“You’re still welcome to do that.”

“No,” Yukie huffs. “You already ruined the vibe.”

Kyōichirō chuckles into his hand.

“Sensei would probably crawl out of the grave just to laugh at you anyway.”

Yukie clicks his tongue.

“Did you just click your tongue at me?” Kyōichirō asks, smiling. “I’ll have you know, as your teacher, I don’t deserve this kind of disrespect.”

“You got assigned to be my homeroom teacher this year and you’re already on a power trip.”

“This is what sensei would have wanted,” Kyōichirō sighs wistfully.

“Like hell!” Yukie yells at him. “This is just power harassment!”

“How could you accuse me of such a thing?” Kyōichirō presses a hand to his mouth, scandalized. “This is pure love and care…!”

Yukie rolls his eyes, and Kyōichirō huffs out a small laugh, stopping his theatrics

“Auntie,” Yukie bemoans at the headstone. “How could you leave me on this earth with this guy? You picked him up like he was a stray cat, so this is all your fault! And he only ever teases me!”

“Sensei would probably say ‘it’s because you’re so easy to mess with’,” Kyōichirō quips.

“Piss off already!”

“But you’re so fun to tease…”

“You’re just saying that because me and auntie have the same personality!”

Kyōichirō blinks, and considers for a moment.

“... Oh, that might be it.”

Yukie throws his hands into the sky.

“Auntie, you should have taken me with you.”

Kyōichirō sighs, lovelorn.

“I wish she took me ,” Kyōiichirō. “A double suicide– isn’t that the most romantic? I’d never ask her for her hand in marriage after that, I’d settle for dying together.”

“Oh my god .”

 

***

 

Before she died, as she breathed shuddering breaths on her deathbed, Kyōichirō had sat beside her, peeling apples with a knife, and spoke:

“You would never believe what I would become for you if you had just wanted it.”

And Imu had looked at him, deep auburn eyes still sharp, still piercing, still warm, and whispered:

“No. I know perfectly well.”

 

***

 

Iroha watches as Kyōichirō prepares the bow for shooting.

“... Have you even been getting any use out of that thing?”

Iroha’s closed up shop for the day, early, because Kyōichirō had stopped by and offered to shoot some arrows for him since he’d asked him to last time.

“Not at all,” Kyōichirō responds, polishing the metal. “But you told me to come and shoot a few arrows for you to repay you, so I’m doing that.”

Iroha hums.

“I guess a little kid like you wouldn’t have much use for it anyways.”

If he knew that, why did he give it to Kyōiichirō?

“You’re welcome to take it back if you want,” Kyōichirō replies.

“That’s not what I intended when I said that,” Iroha waves him off. “Keep it. I have no use for it.”

Kyōiichirō’s look lingers on Iroha for a moment before he discerns that he means what he says, and he turns back to the target.

There was a target practice area behind the shop– because with weapons like kunai and shuriken, the weight and size suitable for each individual are different, and there are a lot of practice ones here for buyers to try.

Well, it wasn’t as if Kyōichirō was trying those, anyway.

He finishes bending the bow (more out of habit than actual necessity) and finally turns to the target.

Iroha watches, seated on one of the stools behind him, chin in his hands, his prosthetic leg crossed over his real one.

“Say, Takayanagi,” He begins. “Why was it that you looked so disgusted when you shot down that thief?” His tone is nonchalant, but it’s clear his curiosity is strong.”You not good with blood?”

Kyōichirō looks at him, sifting through the little basket of arrows.

“... No, not afraid of blood,” He replies. “Hm,” He considers how to answer. “... Say, Iroha-san, did you know that human memories, experiences, and feelings can very easily be altered and overwritten?”

“...?” Iroha raises a brow at him, but nods. “Yeah, I do.”

“I just had memories that I didn’t want being overwritten,” Kyōichirō replies. “Now, when I pull the bow, the memories I wanted to preserve– I now experience them differently.”

It really had felt disgusting, he thinks, when he’d pulled the bowstring and was violently reminded of Imu’s brilliant kyudo discipline. He’d observed her so many times, and every memory of her brought a great spark of joy.

And after that incident, whenever he picks up the bow, he only remembers how he used his bastardized imitation of her art and wasted it on such an undeserving target.

Kyōichirō looks at the target again, judging the distance, and he can feel Iroha’s gaze on him, trying to parse out the meaning behind his words. He wonders if the man understands any of that.

“... If you hate it that much, you don’t have to come, you know.”

Kyōichirō shakes his head, setting the basket to the side of where he’s standing.

“No, it’s fine,” Kyōichirō replies. “It’s already been ruined anyway, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

When he glances over, Iroha’s making a face at him.

“What is it?”

“I’m just thinking that your mindset is pretty dark for a 12 year-old kid.”

“Is it?” Kyōichirō asks non-committedly, shrugging off one side of his kimono for movement. “I don’t see it that way.”

He draws an arrow, aims, and shoots.

It hits the second ring.

He draws another.

“Trying to kill yourself every other dayisn’t dark?”

Kyōichirō pauses mid-draw, and turns to Iroha.

“Is it?” He asks.

Iroha makes a rather dumbfounded look.

“Of course it is,” He responds incredulously. “People who are happy don’t try to kill themselves.”

“But I am happy,” Kyōichirō feels himself smile at the man despite himself. “There is no joy in this world better than dying for love.”

 

***

 

“Takayanagi-sensei.”

“Vicente,” He greets, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Hello.”

The young man smiles– as benignly as he always does. It makes Kyōichirō’s skin crawl .

Vicente Kaiser is 26, the school theater coach, and so successful he really has no business working at a backwater school like this one.

Well, Kyōichirō thinks he doesn’t have much room to talk, himself.

Vicente walks up to Kyōichirō, where he’s leaning against the railings of the rooftop, and places himself beside him, back to the metal and elbows rested behind him on the railing, wind blowing through his glossy black hair.

He’s attractive, objectively so, and especially like this, with the wind rustling through his crisp white button up and his hair brushing across his handsome features.

If Kyōichirō was a poet (or an admirer), he would wax a million words about his beauty, but alas, he’s not.

“Is there something you need?” Kyōichirō asks, pressing his metal pipe to his lips.

They weren’t close enough for the man to suddenly strike up a conversation with him— or come looking for him like this.

Vicente isn’t looking at him, but it’s clear it’s not nervousness, or fear. He’s relaxed, slouch prominent in the line of his back even under his loose clothes, and a smile on his lips.

“I’m interested in you.”

It  takes Kyōichirō a moment to process that statement.

“... Pardon?”

“I’m interested in you,” Vicente turns to him, his eyes glinting with something that Kyōichirō had never seen in his gaze before. “I just thought I’d tell you that.”

“Interested in me,” Kyōichirō repeats. “In what way?”

Vicente seems to consider for a moment before replying.

“I’m not sure.”

Kyōichirō blinks slowly, and takes another drag from his pipe.

“That’s fair.”

“Haha,” Vicente laughs, and Kyōiichirō’s hair stands on end. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this uneasiness around another human being before, not even when he’d been working with hardened criminals under the Yakuza. “Don’t you say it all the time, Takayanagi-sensei? That Love can’t be defined by our arbitrary linguistic rules?”

Kyōichirō almost drops his pipe.

He breathes in deeply, empties the tobacco over the railing with a few sharp taps, and puts it back in his kimono, trying to hide the shaking of his hands.

It’s not what he’s saying that’s making Kyōichirō so uneasy, no, it’s his simple presence that sends goosebumps shooting through his entire expanse of skin.

“... Love, you say?” Kyōichirō makes himself reply, because somehow, if he doesn’t, if he doesn’t, he feels that something would be wrong , something would be… missing. Like he’d be missing out if he stayed silent. “I thought we were walking about ‘interest’?”

Vicente’s smile has not moved even a millimeter since this terrible conversation started.

“I don’t think I’d be able to tell the difference, either way,” Vicente replies, but Kyōichirō sees something stirring behind those empty, empty eyes. “But I know that I want you.”

(Something is crawling, fluttering in the pit of his stomach– it’s odd– it’s familiar .)

Kyōichirō can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of deja vu.

“How vague,” Kyōichirō muses. “And scandalous.”

Vicente stares at him, but it comes off too-natural, too-casual, but also so, so deliberate, and then opens his mouth to speak again.

“... Scandalous,” Vicente repeats, then turns his gaze back to the sky. “Perhaps.”

Kyōichirō lets himself observe Vicente, taking in the slope of his nose, the slant of his eyes, the length of his lashes.

“... I suppose you’re not too bad yourself,” Kyōichirō replies.

“You mean physically?”

“Hah,” Kyōichirō replies. “What else would I mean?”

“Do you judge things physically?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

Vicente looks back at him again, and Kyōichirō suppresses a physical shudder. He wants nothing more than to get out of this conversation, btu also can’t bring himself to end it. It’s quite conflicting.

“Mm,” He hums, like how Kyōichirō hums when he’s thinking, like how a lot of people do, but it’s too deliberate, everything Vicente does is so deliberate– somehow so natural you wouldn’t notice if you looked at him, but Kyōichirō feels it in the very depths of his ribcage, in his gut, that something is terribly, terribly wrong. “I don’t think I’m interested in your appearance.”

“Is that so?”

Vicente stares for a moment.
“I suppose the way people choose to present themselves is of interest to me, but not their facial features themselves.”

Interest in people’s mannerisms, then.

“I don’t think I’m that interesting, in that aspect,” Kyōichirō replies.

“No.” Kyōichirō stares, and Vicente’s mouth continues to move."There’s nothing quite as attractive to me on this earth.”

Kyōiichirō’s skin crawls .

 

***

 

“Tell me, Kyō-kun,” Kushina teases. “Any cute girls in the village you’ve gotten a crush on?”

Minato smiles sheepishly. One thing about Kushina was that she liked love talk a little too much, to the point where she would sometimes push the boundaries of other people to hear it.

“No, I haven’t,” Kyōichirō replies rather blasely.

“Hm~” Kushina flops back onto the picnic mat. “Boring, ttebane! Isn’t 12 the prime time to have crushes?”

“Fufu,” Kyōichirō chuckles like an old man. “Is that when you fell in love, Kushina-san?”

And Kushina goes bright red like her hair immediately, sputtering.

“Hit the nail on the head, did I?’

Minato beams.

“Yeah, we met at the ninja academy!”

“How nice,” Kyōichirō comments, returning back to his book.

Minato cocks his head to the side.

He was expecting Kyōichirō to ask more questions, or to get him to elaborate, but the child does not, seeming uninterested in the story of how they met.

“...” Minato leans across the mat to observe the boy, peering into Kyōiichirō’s eyes as he reads. “... You’re not going to ask?”

Kyōichirō flips a page.

Minato considers for a moment.

“No,” He replies. “I think it’s more romantic when we keep it between us.”

“Then there you go,” Kyōichirō flips another page.

Kushina prods Kyōiichirō’s cheek as the boy reads, and he doesn’t even blink.

“Say, Kyō-kun,” Kushina begins. “How is a little brat like you so mature? Are you like, seriously an old man inside there?”

“Around 42,” Kyōichirō replies. “Middle-aged, I suppose.”

Minato pauses mid-sip.

That’s… oddly specific, he thinks.

Kushina bursts out laughing.

“You’re hilarious,Kyō-kun!”

Kyōichirō looks up from his book at that, at Kushina, and opens his mouth, as if to say something, then stops, sighs, and turns back to his book.

… Huh?

“Eh?” Minato utters out loud. “No way, were you being serious?”

Kushina laughs even harder at that.

“No way, Minato!” She cackles. “You’re way too gullible ‘ttebane!”

But when Minato looks back at Kyōiichirō, the boy is staring right at him, unblinking.

“No, but–”

“I think Kushina-san has had too much to drink,” Kyōichirō says.

“Eh? But all she’s been drinking has been tea–”

Kushina rolls around the picnic mat like a drunkard.

Minato squints.

“Ah, right,” Kyōichirō continues, changing the topic. “Sakumo-san is coming back today, right?”

Minato nods hesitantly.

“Yeah, he should be– actually, he should have been back earlier, but it seems he’s running a bit late.”

Something in Kyōiichirō’s eyes change, and Minato can’t help but observe and obsess over the child’s every little word and movement.

“... Mn,” The boy nods. “As I expected.”

Minato cocks his head to the side.

“What do you mean, as ‘expected’?” Minato asks. “Did Sakumo-san say anything to you?”

Kyōichirō doesn’t reply, snapping his book shut and getting up from the mat.

“Excuse me,” The boy tells them. “I’m going to go pick up Kakashi-kun. Feel free to stay and help yourself.”

“Eh?” Minato blinks, raising his hand. “Wait, Kyōiichirō–”

But Kyōiichirō’s already making his way down the hill, pattering down the footpath.

Minato’s hand falls.

“... But the academy hasn’t finished classes yet…”

Notes:

Thank you for reading! As always, here's my Twitter !

Chapter 18: Shōgi, politics, and a dead Daimyō

Summary:

Sakumo comes home in a worrying state, and Kyōichirō talks politics with Shikaku

Notes:

It's been a while, sorry!
My university year just ended and idk why all motivation just melted out of my body
have this ~5200 word long chapter as compensation!!
(Also, I have no idea how shōgi is played, so hopefully I bullshit it convincingly enough)

ALSO: the politics in this may be really amateur i genuinely have not read this as a whole even once lmao but unfortunately I have two braincells and both of them are thinking about how much I crave a malatang and a beer so apologies in advance

“Kakashi-kun,” Kyōichirō greets. “What are you doing outside of class?”

Little Kakashi is sitting outside, in the courtyard, flinging kunai against a tree trunk.

“Kyo-nii!” Kakashi pulled his kunai from the tree trunk and padded over to him. “It’s not pick up time yet, what are you doing here?”

Kyōichirō ruffles his hair as he approaches.

“I thought I’d pick you up early since your father is coming home today,” Kyōichirō replies. “Now why are you outside of class?”

Kakashi looks down, and prods the raised dirt on the ground with his feet, flattening it.

“They said they ran out of things to teach me,” Kakashi replies. “So they gave me free time.”

Kyōichirō furrows his brow.

What kind of teaching…?

As lazy as Kyōichirō was as a teacher, he always had something to teach the students– to be more advanced than them is a requirement, which meant that within the year he’d teach each student, he knew he himself had to be far past the syllabus.

Well, with ethics, there were hardly any particularly excelling students with how vague the subject was, but they did pop up every once in a while.

“... Alright,” he says after a moment. “We’ll get back to that. But first, why don’t you run inside and tell the teacher you’re heading home early? I’ll take you to the gate and we can wait for your father.”

Kakashi looks up at him and nods eagerly, quickly disappearing back into the building to let his teacher know.

Kyōichirō waits outside, arms folded.

If the teacher had any sense, he’d at least hand Kakashi some more advanced books for him to learn in his own time, but seeing as Kakashi had been sitting here with nothing but a couple of kunai…

Kyōichirō moves a hand up to crack his neck.

… The education system here was quite lacking, wasn’t it…?

Kakashi bounds outside, eyes beaming.

“I’m free to go,” He says in his usual calm tone, but there’s happiness dancing along the edges of his voice. 

His little bag is slung over his shoulder, with a large knot in the middle of where the strap sat diagonally over his chest. The knot was clearly tied to make the strap shorter, and it reminds Kyōichirō just how little Kakashi is.

“All ready?” Kyōichirō asks, just as a formality. “You’re not forgetting anything?”

Kakashi blinks, and then pads back over to where he had been throwing kunai and plucks the rest of the knives out of the bark.

“All ready.”

Kyōichirō nods, and holds out his hand.

“...?”

“Hand me your bag.”

Kakashi hesitates a moment before doing as he’s told.

Kyōichirō swiftly undoes the not and slings it over his own shoulders before turning his back to Kakashi, crouching down.

“...?”

Kyōichirō huffs out a laugh.

“Get on,” He prompts. “It’s a special treat, just for today.”

After a moment, Kyōichirō feels the boy place his arms over his shoulders and climb on.

“... Ready?” Kyōichirō asks.

He feels Kakashi nod into his shoulder.

Kyōichirō hoists the child up without much effort at all, wrapping his arms under Kakashi’s thighs to hold him up.

“Comfortable?” Kyōichirō asks.

Kakashi nods again.

Kyōichirō makes his way out of Academy grounds, heading to the village gates.

He’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was to have someone so in his space, but Kakashi seemed to be down, and Kyōichirō is quite sure that his gut feeling about Sakumo’s mission was right (his gut hasn’t been wrong before) and Kakashi’s in for a lot more sadness from here on out.

… Huh.

So he does care.

Kyōichirō blinks, pausing in his steps for a split second.

“... Kyo-nii?” Kakashi asks, with a pudgy cheek pressing against Kyōichirō’s neck. “Am I too heavy?”

Kyōichirō laughs

“Heavy? A tiny thing like you?” He chuckles, resuming his walk. “No, I just realized something.”

“...?”

“I was just thinking that I really am like your big brother.”

“Oh,” Kakashi seems to pause at that as well. “... I guess you are.”

Kyōichirō bites back a chuckle as he feels Kakashi’s face getting warm from where the boy’s nose was nuzzled against the junction of his neck.

He really has gotten attached.

Kyōichirō spares a glance at the mess of spiky white hair on his shoulder, before turning his sights back to the road in front of him.

What will he tell Vicente?

… Well, Vicente knows how he is. It wasn’t the first time this has happened, anyway.

“I want a drink,” Kakashi mumbles into the back of Kyōichirō’s neck, and Kyōichirō tries not to shudder at the proximity and the way his anxiety immediately shoots through the roof. “Let’s get one for dad too.”

“Alright,” Kyōichirō replies. “What do you want to drink?”

“... Juice.”

“Apple or orange?” Kyōichirō asks, because those are the only two juices that Kakashi drinks.

“Orange.”

“Alright,” Kyōichirō hoists Kakashi further up his back as he feels the boy begin to slip, and then stops at the first drinks stall they pass.

“Hello, Minamoto-san,” He greets the old lady sitting at the stall. “How are you.”

The elderly lady squints at him, adjusting her glasses as she closes her newspaper from where she’d been doing a wordsearch puzzle.

“My, is that you, Kyōichirō?” She asks. “You’ve gotten tall!”

“It’s only been a few months, Minamoto-san,” Kyōichirō smiles. “Surely I haven’t changed that much.”

“Nonsense!” The woman tuts. “And is that little Kakashi behind you?”

Kakashi looks up and waves a little.

“Hello, Minamoto-baa-san.”

“You boys grow too quickly!” The woman scolds. “My, I’m sure even Kakashi’s father doesn’t know what to think when his little boy shoots up like bamboo!”

Kyōichirō laughs politely.

“Minamoto-san, you, on the other hand, don’t seem to be aging a day,” He says, more out of politeness than anything.

Minamoto rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“Oh shush, you,” She waves her hand. “What is it that you two would like to drink?”

“An orange juice for Kakashi, and two iced teas.”

“On your way to meet Sakumo, are you?” The woman asks, opening the fridge as she speaks. “Back from his mission already?”

“Yes,” Kyōichirō replies. “We’re planning to greet him at the gate.”

Minamoto stabs a straw into all three disposable cups, and hands the orange juice to Kakashi first, and places the other two in a cup holder for Kyōichirō to carry.

“It’s still 20 ryo each, right?” Kyōichirō asks. “Here.”

“Thanks, Kyōichirō,” The woman accepts the money. “Tell little Sakumo I said hello.”

‘ Little ’? Kyōichirō asks in his head before he nods.

“I will. Thank you, Minamoto-san.”

“Thank you, Minamoto-baa-san,” Kakashi thanks politely.

The woman waves them goodbye as they continue down the path.

“Careful not to spill that, Kakashi-kun,” Kyōichirō tells the boy.

“I’ll be careful.”

Kyōichirō takes them all the way to the gate, and stands off to the side of the street, out of anyone’s way, to wait.

“...”

“...”

There’s no sound except for the sound of the straw scraping against the opening of the plastic cup and the clinking of the ice bumping together.

Kyōichirō looks upwards.

“It’s a sunny day today," Kyōichirō comments. “Maybe you can get Sakumo-san to help you with your kunai later.”

“Un.”

As Kyōichirō looks at the way the clouds move across the vast expanse of blue sky, the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach only grows.

He really does have a terrible feeling about this.

“... Kakashi.”

Kakashi looks down at him.

“Hm?”

“Promise me that if your father is acting strange– at all out of the ordinary at home, you have to come and tell me, alright?” Kyōichirō insists. “If you feel anything is off at all, you must come tell me.”

Kakashi stares at him for a moment before nodding.

“... I will.”

Kyōichirō stares at the gates.

It doesn’t take long for figures to emerge in the distance.

It’s Sakumo– and people who Kyōichirō assumes are his teammates.

Kyōichirō purposefully hides the sight from Kakashi, angling them just so.

They’re in bad shape.

One of them has been hoisted onto Sakumo’s back, and another was limping beside the man, Sakumo watching him worriedly and offering an arm, but the man refuses to take it.

As the group near the gate, Sakumo spots them, and immediately averts his gaze away from them.

Kyōichirō furrows his brow.

He’s never been as good at reading people as Vicente was, but he could at least tell that Sakumo was feeling… ashamed of something.

Kyōichirō runs his gaze over all three of the ninja.

… They failed the mission, he can tell, but this village had never been hard on ninja who failed missions. There was a reason why Konohagakure was called the ‘nice village’, after all.

Was this mission something especially crucial, or was Sakumo having a flare of some sort of inferiority complex?

“Dad,” Kakashi greets. “Welcome back!”

Sakumo averts his gaze from his son, doesn’t even meet his eyes, and only manages to utter a short response.

“Not now, Kakashi, okay?” Sakumo tries a smile, but it’s so unconvincing that Kyōichirō is sure that even Kakashi can tell. “I’ll see you at home.”

Sakumo and his teammates stalk past, and Kyōichirō catches one of the ninja shooting Kakashi and absolutely venomous glare, and moves to cover it from Kakashi.

“... Dad…?”

Kakashi’s single uttered word is pitiful, Kyōichirō thinks, and he hoists Kakashi further up his back. What possibly could have happened for Sakumo to brush off his beloved son like that?

“I think Sakumo-san is tired after his mission,” Kyōichirō tries to play down the feeling in his gut to the little boy. “Let’s go home, hm? We can wait for him there.”

“... Okay.”

They leave Kyōichirō and Kakashi alone by the street, their backs getting smaller and smaller as they head to the Hokage tower.

Kyōichirō watches them for a moment before turning on his heel and heading back down the market street.

“Let’s pick up dinner on our way home,” Kakashi whispers. “I don’t think dad will have the energy to cook today.”

Kyōichirō doesn’t think that’s a good idea, just off the feeling at the pit of his stomach. Sakumo seems to have failed a very important mission, and the problem with small civilizations like this, civilizations that don’t house millions, is that word travels fast .

If there is bad will towards Sakumo, that hatred will undoubtedly affect his family members– affect Kakashi– as well.

Because that is simply how humans are.

“Please, Kyo-nii?” Kakashi tugs gently at Kyōichirō’s kimono. “I have pocket money if you don’t have enough…”

“I have enough money,” Kyōichirō responds. “I’ve got it. Let’s go.”

Well, Kyōichirō considers, walking towards the nearest izakaya. It’s barely been five minutes since Sakumo got back. Surely a quick takeout will do no harm.

Either way, Kyōichirō will be able to protect Kakashi if worse comes to worst.

 

***

 

He was wrong.

“Is that him?” Someone whispers. “Sakumo’s son…”

“That guy…”

Kyōichirō holds back a sigh as he hands the man at the counter the money.

How did it already get around?

Kakashi has buried his face deep into the back of Kyōichirō’s shoulder.

“Fuck, because of that guy, we’re stuck in this fucking war!”

“It’s all his fault–”

“Don’t listen to them, kids.” Kyōichirō looks up to see the owner, a good friend of both his and Sakumo’s, handing him their takeout. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. Tactless bunch, the lotta ‘em, how dare they talk so much shit behind Kakashi’s back?”

Kyōichirō glances at Kakashi’s head again, before looking back at the owner.

“I’m not too bothered,” Kyōichirō replies. “Words are just words, even if they’re insensitive. But,” He looks back at the customers, and they immediately shut up when they feel his gaze on them. “It’s very, very strange that the rumors got around so fast, and that they’ve been aggravated to this level…”

It couldn’t have been more than an hour or so, Kyōichirō thinks, since Sakumo came in through the gates.

“You’re right, boy,” The owner agrees. “Something is definitely up with this gossip, ‘s all weird…”

The most likely theory that Kyōichirō could think of was that the guards at the gate had blabbed– but even then, Kyōichirō knows that they are sworn to confidentiality, which means…

Someone would be buying them off.

No, no, Kyōichirō backtracks. That’s a little far-fetched. He has no evidence, and there are other plausible theories, such as the ninja at the Hokage tower spreading rumors, or the ninja involved with the mission themselves speaking out in the wrong places.

“Thank you for the food, mister,” Kyōichirō expresses his gratitude politely before he turns away, taking Kakashi back to the Hatake estate.

He doesn’t want to overspeculate, but the way this rumor was spreading was incredibly suspicious.

“We’re here,” Kyōichirō nudges Kakashi, who still hasn’t stopped burying his face in Kyōichirō’s shoulder. “Come on, off.”

Kakashi slowly climbs off his back, head still hanging.

Kyōichirō frowns.

“Are the things people are saying really bothering you?”

Little Kakashi seems to press his lips together under his mask, and Kyōichirō cocks his head to the side.

“They are,” Kyōichirō confirms. “Why?”

The boy clings to the side of his kimono, little fists gripping into the cloth.

“I don’t like hearing them say bad things about my dad.”

Kyōichirō opens the door to the Hatake home, and leads the boy in, deliberating what to say.

“... I understand,” He decides on. “I”m sure you’re worried about your father's reputation, but it won't do any good to mull on it with our limited information.”

Kakashi nods solemnly and busies himself in the kitchen, taking out bowls and chopsticks for their meal.

Kyōichirō watches carefully as he does so, keeping an eye on the entryway for any signs of movement.

He’d have to keep a watchful eye on the rumors for now, he supposes, though it’s already escalated quite dramatically.

First the rumors regarding the Uchiha clan, now this…

Everything was just so odd.

“Dad!”

“Hey, Kakashi…”

Kyōichirō greets Sakumo as the man stumbles into the house, looking immensely drained.

“Sakumo-san,” He pads over, steadying him. “How are you feeling?”

Sakumo manages a weak smile.

“As expected, the mission didn’t go well,” He chuckles. “So I’m feeling quite awful.”

Kyōichirō considers, leading the man into the house.

“... You should go get changed,” Kyōichirō says politely. “We bought dinner from outside, so don’t worry about cooking. Just clean up and come out to eat. You should go to bed after that. I’ll watch Kakashi.”

The man nods tiredly, and Kyōichirō watches him as he goes further into the house.

Kakashi stares after his father, looking pitiful like an abandoned dog.

Kyōichirō ushers Kakashi away.

“I believe your father needs some time alone,” He tells the boy– he doesn’t say he’ll be ready to talk in the near future, because Kakashi should hear the truth, if nothing else. “We’ll have to monitor him and see how it goes, understood?”

“... Okay.”

“Want to show me how you throw kunai?” Kyōichirō tries to distract the boy. “You mentioned you wanted to show me last week.”

Kakashi seems to brighten a little at this and leads Kyōichirō to the front yard.

Kyōichirō lets his shoulder relax, and resists the urge to massage his head.

Empathy was exhausting .

 

***

 

The situation does not improve– and it does not worsen, either, but Kyōichirō thinks it couldn’t have gotten much worse in 2 weeks. It went from 1 to a hundred and now is stagnating, creating a constant energy of hatred and negativity whenever Sakumo is spotted in public.

“Kyōichirō, there you are.”

Kyōichirō turns to find Shikaku waving at him lazily, hands in his jonin jacket.

“Shikaku-san,” Kyōichirō greets, grocery bags swinging to a stop as he pauses in his tracks. “Hello.”

The man nods, scanning him head to toe. Kyōichirō thinks that he really ought to do it more subtly– this is why Shikakuni was so hesitant to send him to the diplomatic gathering next month.

“Grocery shopping?”

“Yes,” Kyōichirō replies. “Is there something you need?”

“Shōgi.”

Of course.

“I’m busy taking care of Kakashi at the Hatake household at the moment,” Kyōichirō replies. He’d gotten permission from the headmistress of the orphanage to camp out at the Gatake estate until further notice. “We can play there, if you’d like.”

Shikaku blinks, and Kyōichirō knows that maybe a hundred different thoughts run through the genius’ head in that one second.

“Sure,” The man slouches as he replies. “Are you heading there straight away, or should I meet you there?”

Kyōichirō gestures for the man to follow him.

“I’m on my way there now.”

“Alright,” Shikaku says. “Let’s drop by the tea shop to buy some snacks or something then.”

“You’re just saying that because your mother found out you haven’t been bringing gifts when visiting people’s houses and gave you a scolding, aren’t you?”

“How do you even know that?” Shikaku replies incredulously.

“Shikakuni-dono was telling me about it last time.”

Shikaku sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Honestly, that old man…”

Kyōichirō chuckles.

“I heard your family is arranging a marriage for you as well,” Kyōichirō replies. “Uchiha Yoshino-san, was it?”

It’s rather surprising to Kyōichirō– he’d delivered letters and parcels to and from Yoshino before, and she was really the type who’d sooner rip out her own uterus before being forced into a marriage. He’d have to look into it.

“Troublesome,” Shikaku mutters. “Neither of us want it but those old arses up the top want it for god-knows what reason.”

Ah.

Yoshino is not liked by the Uchiha elders– she’s too… too female, to progressive, for their conservative taste buds. This is probably a retaliation for her rebellion of the status quo that they want her to fit into.

The Nara elders… to Kyōichirō’s knowledge, they would probably back down if there was vehement opposition from both parties.

“Shikakuni-dono has said that he’s been trying to repeal it for you,” Kyōichirō says in response.

“I know.”

“Is there another lady you fancy, or do you just not want to be wed?”

“The latter,” Shikaku drawls. “... marriage, I don’t understand it at all.”

Kyōichirō hums as he walks alongside the man, taking note of how Shikaku slows down his steps to match Kyōichirō’s, and smiles.

Shikakuni had told Kyōichirō that he believed his son to be too cold– too calculative and logic-oriented and emotionless even for a Nara, and as he spoke, the worry weighing him down had made him really look his age, the stress weighing down on his aging shoulders, and that image had stuck with Kyōichirō.

Perhaps Shikaku did seem that way to most, but Kyōichirō does not believe the man to be cold– he’s met cold, he’s known emotionless, known calculative, and he can admit that Shikaku may be a bit of the latter, but he is certainly not emotionless.

“... Say, how’s Sakumo doing?” Shikakuni asks, somewhat awkwardly. “He’s alright?”

Kyōichirō huffs as Shikakuni continues to affirm his ideas.

Emotionally unintelligent, for all his genius, is how Kyōichirō would describe him.

“As well as he can be, I suppose,” Kyōichirō replies. “Nothing has gotten any better.”

Shikaku stays silent beside him as he opens the door to enter the Hatake estate.

“Excuse my intrusion,” Is the only thing the man murmurs as he enters.

Kakashi is sitting on the couch, and perks up when he sees Kyōichirō walk in with Shikaku.

“Shikaku-nii!” Kakashi pads up to the man. “What are you doing here?”

Kyōichirō walks in and starts putting away the groceries as Shikaku deals with Kakashi.

“Just going to play a bit of shōgi with Kyōichirō,” Shikaku replies, slipping out of his ninja sandals. “What are you up to?”

Kakashi waves the feather duster in his hands.

“Cleaning.”

Shikaku squints at Kakashi, at his little stature, too short to be reaching anywhere high up.

“... Has Sakumo been too busy to do it together with you lately?” Shikaku asks, and Kyōichirō sighs. Right– for all cares, he’s also dense, and cannot for the life of himself catch social cues and sidestep landmines.

Kakashi falls into a mullish silence, and Kyōichirō can tell Shikaku is backing up.

“Ahem,” Shikaku coughs into his fist awkwardly. “... Need any help?”
Kyōichirō chuckles quietly – it was so clear in his tone that he did not want to do anything so bothersome, but here he was, offering, because he’s not mean enough to not offer after seeing Kakashi’s predicament.

Kakashi shakes his head.

“I can manage,” And then he starts walking up the walls in order to clean.

“I’m pretty sure you’re only supposed to be able to do that after becoming a genin, kid,” Shikaku says, but he doesn’t sound at all surprised, so Kyōichirō assumes it isn’t all that impressive to be able to do. “Who taught you?”

“I asked one of the chūnin at the training grounds.”

“Hm…”

Kyōichirō puts some tea on before returning to the living room, wiping his hands on a small kitchen towel.

“The shōgi table is in the study,” He tells Shikaku. “I’ll go bring it out, so I’ll be right back.”

Shikaku nods absentmindedly at him as Kakshi tells the man about how he’s got nothing to do at the Academy.

 

***

 

Shikaku watches as the boy in front of him takes his silver general. Kakashi sits beside them, watching intently.

He’d heard that shōgi was meant to be boring to most children, but he supposes Kakashi isn’t most children, in pretty much every way imaginable.

And neither is Kyōichirō.

Shikaku pushes his pawn forward, and Kyōichirō’s lost.

“Good game,” Kyōichirō murmurs, continuing to study the board.

“You started losing about 15 moves ago,” Kakashi reports dutifully to the older boy. “I think.”

“No,” Kyōichirō murmurs, rearranging the board. Shikaku stares– he can’t help it, Kyōichirō was the only person he’d ever been able to make out the facial features of– so even if he could only see his sharp canines and the mole under his lip, and maybe sometimes his thick, black lashes, it was something . “It was 29 ago.”

“Really?”

Kyōichirō nods, rearranging the board– which could be seen as rude, but Kyōichirō’s sort of a rude kid anyway, and Shikaku is not exactly one for rules, either.

Out of the 17 total games they’d played, Kyōichirō has won one by his own merit, and once because Shikaku let him win– he’d been… afraid, he supposed, that the continuous losses would scare Kyōichirō away, but the boy had very sternly told him to never do it again.

“Kyōichirō’s right,” Shikaku tells Kakashi. “See? When he ignored the pawn I put forward here.”

“Ooh,” Kakashi nods. “I see.”

Kyōichirō takes another sip of tea, and once he puts it down, the cup is empty, and Kakashi immediately goes to refill it.

Shikaku grabs a handful of sunflower seeds from the bowl beside them, nibbling through them as they discuss his strategy.

“-Either way,” Kyōichirō says. “I would have lost, even if I noticed back then.”

Kakashi does… something, with his expression– Shikaku can’t guess, shuffling the pieces once more.

“Wouldn’t you have been able to recover from this point?”

“Hmm…”

Kyōichirō trails off, 

They sit in silence for a while, all of them contemplating, when Kyōichirō opens his mouth again.

“Say,” Kyōichirō begins. “I know Sakumo-dono made some sort of faux-pas on his recent mission,” He looks up at Shikaku. “Could you tell me what exactly he did that turned him into the village pariah?”

Shikaku finishes chewing the seed in his mouth, and breaks another one between his teeth, and eats that as well, thinking.

“... Should we be talking about that with Kakashi here?” Is what he decides to say next.

Kyōichirō rearranges the folds of his kimono a little.

“Don’t you think Kakashi has the most right to know?” Kyōichirō intones softly.

Kakashi doesn’t say a word, but even with Shikaku’s apparently lacking social skill, he can tell that the boy does want to hear the truth.

“Truth is,” Shikaku starts. “The reason why Sakumo is being flamed isn’t that closely related to what actually happened on the mission. It’s just that some bizarre rumour that started going around that started all the hatred.”

Shikaku pauses, considering how to phrase it in the least hurtful way. Inoichi had been hounding him about his phrasing lately, after all. Apparently he needed to be less blunt, or something.

“... This is actually supposed to be a secret to most people, but the Daimyō was killed a little more than two weeks ago,” Shikaku says lowly.

“What?!” Kakashi gasps.

“Ah, thought so,” Kyōichirō rolls his shoulders, casually, as if this wasn’t news to him. “I do wonder how they managed to keep it on the down low, though.”

Shikaku decides to file this reaction away for later.

“He was killed by one of his concubines, the one from Takigakure,” Shikaku begins. “I trust you know that his concubine from Iwagakure– the Tsuchikage’s daughter, was killed by him due to his abuse of her– and that’s how the war started?”

Kyōichirō nods.
Kakashi stills– Shikaku assumes this is news to him, he must have heard something else in the Academy. He’s not surprised, this country would sooner roll over and die than admit their own fault.

“It turns out that Iwagakure bought her off, and she killed him in his bed,” Shikaku censored out how exactly he killed her, not because he thought that it would be particularly inappropriate for Kyōichirō, but it would be for Kakashi. “And the person who found them is the Daimyō’s first son– who’s next in line.”

“... What happened next?” Kakashi asks.

Kyōichirō doesn’t say anything, but from what Shikaku can make out, the boy is looking down at his teacup, seeming rather unbothered.

He might already know.

“The first son doesn’t have a good relationship with his father,” Shikaku continues.  “So he was actually the one who helped the concubine cover up her crime– as far as everyone in the Daimyō’s residence knows, the man is only sick with something contagious, and that’s why no one has seen him. Of course, there are people who know, but…”
“Since the Daimyō wasn’t very well liked, no one would care to say anything– especially since, I assume– the son has taken up his mantle and made many improvements.”

“... How’d you figure?” Shikaku asks. “That he’s made changes, I mean.”

“I monitor these things,” Kyōichirō says. “Politicians like to pass bills behind our backs, but they can’t keep it completely secret– I saw just last week that education has become legal to girls, and they can now attend schools. The Daimyō wouldn’t have had such a sudden change of heart, especially after he rejected any suggestions alluding to that so vehemently before.”

“Is that why you kept sending those letters to the capital?” Kakashi exclaims at Kyōichirō. “Did you have something to do with that?”

Shikaku’s eyes go wide.

“Of course not,” Kyōichirō sighs, breaking apart a senbei with his hands and shoving a piece into Kakashi’s mouth to supposedly shut him up. “I’m just a civilian child, why on earth would I have so much influence?”

He definitely has something to do with it, Shikaku thinks to himself. Something to do with that specific bill, at the very least.

But Shikaku supposes he won’t pry.

For now.

He’d discuss this with the others first.

“... Troublesome,” Shikaku clicks his tongue. “Anyway, Sakumo’s mission was actually to intercept a group of Iwa-nin that were going to smuggle that concubine out of the Daimyō’s estate and to Iwa, where she’d be compensated somehow– we don’t know the details yet. Sakumo’s team was there to kill her before that happened.”

“Because as a ninja village under the Daimyō , we can’t exactly fail to display loyalty by showing that we let our Daimyō’s killer go unpunished– I suppose that they were planning to reveal the truth after they killed the concubine to celebrate the avenging of the Daimyō?”

Shikaku looks at Kyōichirō.

“... Yes, that’s right,” Shikaku nods. “Anyway, they failed, because it turns out that Daimyō's son was also helping her escape– seems they were closer than we thought, and due to that complication one of our ninja were captured by the iwa-nin. It was at that point that Sakumo had the chance to kill her and complete the mission, sacrificing the lives of his two teammates, or let her go and rescue them.”

“And he chose to rescue them,” Kyōichirō hums, in a ‘well, better for me, then’, kind of tone. Even with Shikaku’s terrible understanding of tonal cues and gestures, he could tell that Kyōichirō was more supportive of Tsuchi-no-kuni’s side of the war than Hi-no-kuni’s. How… dissident.

“I don’t see how this made dad the sole person responsible for prolonging the war…” Kakashi says. “Since the main… cause,” Kakashi chooses that word carefully. “Of the war was killed, and by them, too, doesn’t that give them a reason to start falling back?”

“That’s two very separate topics, Kakashi,” Kyōichirō says. “But no, Sakumo-san was not responsible– that’s why Shikaku-san said earlier that all the bad rumours were unfounded. I suppose what people heard was that he chose his teammates over the very important mission, and in their heads, it suggested that the mission failing prolonged the war. Secondly, no, it does not give Iwagakure a reason to fall back. I expect they’ll be looking for an official apology and negotiations on their terms.”

“And the Mikado would never accept those, so the Hokage and the Tsuchikage will continue to go at each other,” Shikaku nods. ‘We’re in for a long ride.”

“Oh…” Kakashi looks down, his head of floppy white hair falling as he slumps.

“But anyway, that mission wasn’t actually that important,” Shikaku tells Kakashi. “So the fact that the rumours are going around like that is fishy.”

“... Extremely,” Kyōichirō says.

Shikaku eats some more sunflower seeds.

“... You know anything?” He asks.

“Nothing that you wouldn’t have already suspected, Shikaku-san,” Kyōichirō says. “In fact, I was looking to ask some information about some things from you regarding it. I don’t want to speculate too much, so I need some hard facts.”

“Isn’t speculation a good thing?” Shikaku says. “Doubt is good for you.”

“Doyle once said,” He begins– his voice sounds like he’s drifting far off into his mind. “It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly, one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.”

“... Doyle?” Kakashi questions.

Kyōichirō looks at the boy.

“Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,” Kyōichirō says. “It’s the name of an author I quite favor, but I haven’t seen his books around here in a long time. I’ll tell you if I find a copy.”

“Sounds like a westerner’s name,” Shikaku says.

Kyōichirō nods.

“They are a westerner,” He replies. “I taught myself how to read their language a while back.”

Shikaku hums, knowing he’s twisting the truth, or not telling all of it.

“Keep your secrets, then.”

Kyōichirō just chuckles.

“Then, with all the heavy topics out of the way,” The boy rearranges the board to the starting positions. “Shall we play another game?”

Notes:

Kyōichirō: *Says something weird again*
Shikaku: "Aight, time to bring this to the board of directors (group of uncles who low-key adopted him) and discuss"

Also, I hope you guys noticed that I never used any facial-expression-describing words from Shikaku's perspective! I wanted to stay true to my headcanon of him having prosopagnosia. Also, if it feels like he's a little on the spectrum, I intended it that way, sort of! I don't like using too many labels when it's not beneficial to the subject, so I won't say I headcanon him having autism, but well...

I'm definitely not an expert when it comes to things like these, so correct me if I portrayed them incorrectly!

Chapter 19: the faculty room, weekly problem child meetings, nobility

Summary:

the faculty room, The Weekly Kyōichirō meeting, and an encounter with the most beautiful woman in the world (or her son, who looks just like her)

Notes:

Didn't get this out as early as I said I would, but it's within the same 30 days...? yay!

"Hey," Kobayashi begins. "Do you think Takayanagi is married?"

"Takayanagi-kun?" Kojima repeats. "No, he's not."

Kojima would probably be the only one at the school who attaches such a cutesy suffix to Takayanagi's name, being more than 20 years old than him.

"Ah, but I believe that he did propose to Imu-chan before."

" Multiple times," Aiku drawls. "To an infuriating degree."

"Imu… Yukie Imu?" Kobayashi ponders. "Wasn't she Yukie-kun's aunt?"

"Yep," Aiku replies. "And almost 10 years older than Takayanagi to the boot."

"Fufu," Kojima chuckles. "Takayanagi-kun is an interesting one, isn't he?"

"Eccentric is more like it,” Aiku scrunches his nose. "He's weird ."

"Oh, hush, Aiku," Kobayashi teases. "You're just upset because your wife thinks he's cute."

Aiku pouts-- well, as much as a caffeine-addict middle-aged man can feasibly pout, anyway.

"He's having a taste of his own medicine now," Nagasawa, who teaches modern history, grumbles. "Kaiser is just as insufferable."

"I'd say Kaiser is worse," Another faculty member whines. "Just hearing his voice infuriates me…!"

"I did think he was a bit too normal to teach here," Kobayashi agrees. "He was just a nice guy until he started chasing after Takayanagi."

Nagasawa shudders.

"To think I planned to ask him out."

Kobayashi raises a brow.

"He's out of our league," She cackles. "I wouldn't date him even if I was paid to do it! Dealing with paparazzi?! Give me a break."

"Him being famous does kinda knock off those attraction points, huh."

"What's all this excitement about?"

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Takayanagi enters the room, a neat stack of papers to be marked in his arm.

"Talking behind your colleagues' backs is bad etiquette, hm?" He hums, though it's clear he couldn't care less.

"As if you give a shit about etiquette," Aiku snorts, tapping away on his keyboard. "And we also talk shit to your face, it's nothing you haven't heard before."

"It's all affectionate bad talk, don't worry," The English teacher smiles. The English teacher, James, is so happy-go-lucky it makes all the other faculty worry that he's going to get recruited into either a cult or a multi-level-marketing-scheme when he's out and about on the street.

"Thank you for your kindness, James," Takayanagi sits down in his chair. "Just so you’re aware, one of the students replaced that with vodka."

James chokes on the paper cup of water he had just dispensed from the tank.

Aiku doesn't even blink, and downs the entire cup.

"Oh dear," Kojima chuckles. "What a clever bunch of children."

"Should we really be encouraging this sort of behavior…?"

“Why not?” Takayanagi hums. “We should be thanking them. I know some of us need a couple of drinks to get through the day.”

“I need more than a couple of drinks,” Aiku mutters under his breath. “I need to be sedated .”

“I hope you get to that,” Kobayashi says genuinely.

Kojima laughs as if that’s the funniest thing in the world.

“My, my, you young’ins are so energetic!”

“Young…?” Aiku looks at Kobayashi from the corner of his eye.

“What are you trying to imply, you punk?” Kobayashi snarls. “I’m–”

“18 at heart, yes,” Aiku rolls his eyes.

“Aren’t you older than her, Aiku-sensei?” James asks.

“Well, yeah, but at least I don’t go around in fishnets and leather booty shorts claiming I’m 18 at heart.”

“You–!”

Takayanagi sighs.

It’s just another Tuesday.

“Have I missed something?” Kaiser enters the faculty room with a stack of papers as Kobayashi and Aiku scuffle on the floor, knocking over chairs and making files fly about.

“No,” Nagasawa sighs. “Just the usual.”

“Ah,” Kaiser hums, leaning over Takayanagi’s shoulder to look at what he’s doing. “More essays, Kyōichirō-san? You haven’t assigned any this week, as far as I know.”

“It’s Takayanagi, Kaiser,” Takayanagi corrects him offhandedly. “And do I want to know why you know everything about my class schedule?”

Kaiser just smiles and backs away.

“Do you?” Kaiser hums. “I don’t mind telling you, dear Kyōichirō. In fact–”

“Never mind,” Takayanagi runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to know.”

“Fufu,” Kaiser smiles like a fox that caught the hare.

“You think he’s a masochist?” Kobayashi asks Aiku, patting down her hair and dusting off her clothes. “He seems to like it when Takayanagi shoots him down.”

“Nah,” Aiku says, wiping off his glasses. “I think he knows something we don’t. I try not to think too much about those two. They’re weirdos.”

In any other situation, Kobayashi would have retorted with ‘says you’, but Takayanagi and Kaiser were, in fact, weirdos, and nothing could really out-weird them, so she just agrees silently.

… They should just get together already.

 

***

 

“What?”

Orochimaru sits across from Fugaku and Shikaku– Inoichi and Sakumo are off on missions, while Minato is on a date with Kushina.

“I was talking to Kyōichirō about the Daimyo’s passing–”

“Isn’t that classified–”

“Shh!” Shikaku snaps– he hates being interrupted. “Anyway, I think he definitely has something to do with it.”

Fugaku massages his brow.

“He's 10.”

“And?” Shikaku says, impatiently. “All of us did some weird shit when we were 10.”

Well, he supposes that would apply just because all three of them had the ‘genius’ label slapped onto them when they were children.

“But Kyōichirō isn’t that brand of weird,” Fugaku groans into his hands. “He’s… he’s old .”

Orochimaru snorts into his tea. He makes it sound elegant.

“According to you,” His voice lilts gently. “He’s 10.”

“And also!” Fugaku continues. “He’s not a shinobi kid! Which makes it ten times weirder!”

Orochimaru pauses. He can concede to that.

Shikaku looks at them.

“Also, it’s really been messing with Sakumo– more than we can see from the outside,” Shikaku had jumped back to the previous topic– as if he hadn’t heard anything the two of them had said- without waiting for them so quickly that Orochimaru thinks he may get whiplash. “‘Pparently the guy’s not eating or sleeping properly.”

Fugaku’s face turns solemn.

Right, the rumor mill had also done a lot of damage to the Uchiha clan’s reputation as a whole, as well. 

“... Sakumo was talking to me about it before,” Orochimaru begins carefully. “About a conversation he was having with Kyōichirō-kun.”

“Of course it always goes back to that brat,” Shikaku grumbles. “Seriously, that Kyōichirō–”

“Sorry I’m late!!”

A flash of eye-searing yellow just… appears in front of them at the engawa of the Nara estate, where they had been talking this whole time.

Orochimaru startles so badly that he doesn’t even have the leisure to enjoy the way that Shikaku jumps like a startled cat, or the way that Fugaku leaps clumsily out of his chair.

“Minato…!” Fugaku exclaims. “What…?!”

The blonde eyesore– Minato– is standing atop the tea table they were using, unabashed, and in fact looking rather proud of himself.

“Did you see that, Orochimaru-san?" He asks, not even getting down from the table as he asks them, sparkles and rainbows in his eyes. “Did you?”

“See what?” Fugaku looks like he had a whole five years shaved off his life. “I was too busy choosing between my fight or flight response!”

Minato pouts, then vanishes in a flash of yellow light again.

And before they can process anything, another flash of yellow light, and Minato is once again on top of the tea table.

“Did you see that?!” The boy exclaims again.

Orochimaru rubs his temple, feeling a headache coming on.

“I see you finally perfected your Hiraishin, Minato,” He says.

“Is that what you were doing up till now?” Fugaku asks, lowering himself back on his zabuton. “I thought you were supposed to be on a date with Kushina…”

“What?” Minato blinks at him– one of those off-tempo, mismatched blinks that Orochimaru has seen frogs do.

Honestly, he can't help but think that the boy, for all his academic genius, is actually operating off pure spinal reflex most of the time, like an insect.

“What?”

“What?”

The two men stare at each other (stupidly),

“Wait, why do you think I was on a date?” Minato asks.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Fugaku asks in return. “You said you would be with your girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Minato says, blinking off-beat once more, and Orochimaru finally sees some semblance of consciousness return to Minato’s head. “Yeah, I was with Kushina, but it wasn’t really a date. She was helping me with my seal work.”

“Ah,” Fugaku says, rather eloquently. “I see.”

“Anyway!” Minato beams at Orochimaru. “How was it?!”

“Impressive,” Orochimaru comments. “I trust you went up North during your 3-day break last week, then?”

“Yep!”

“Oh, to have a three-day break,” Shikaku says from where he’s lying on the engawa, looking up at the sky wistfully.

Orochimaru sips his tea.

It seems life as a clan heir had its own struggles.

“Anyway,” Minato looks at them, taking a zabuton out from the pile of spares and sitting next to Orochimaru. “What were you guys saying about Kyōichirō?”

“Apparently Shikaku and his big mouth told Kyōichirō about all about the daimyo being dead,” Fugaku sighs. "Which is classified, by the way."

“You say that like I didn’t tell the kid information he probably knew already.”

Orochimaru nods.

“Indeed,” He agrees. “I believe we often forget that the boy is acquainted with Kiyozuru-san.”

“It's not just that-- Shikaku thinks Kyōichirō has something to do with the daimyo’s assassination,” Fugaku says.

“... Well,” Minato trails off.

Fugaku looks ready to leap out of his seat.

“Don’t tell me you agree with him, Minato!” Fugaku exclaims. “He’s a 10 year old kid!”

“But Fugaku-san,” Minato begins. “Didn’t you also talk about how he’s been after the Daimyo's neck for a while now?”

“Yeah, but I mean that socially,” Fugaku emphasizes. “I thought he’d be going around slandering him so badly he’d have incentive to step down, not actually kill him!”

“Hey, hey,” Shikaku says. “I never said anything about Kyōichirō being involved with killing him,” He says. “I’m just saying that he probably had a hand in the events that led up to him dying.”

“That…”

Minato trails off as they all fall silent. They couldn’t exactly refute that– none of them would be surprised if it was true.

“... Wait a minute,” Minato begins anew. “Where’s Sakumo-san?”

“Ah,” Shikaku cracks his neck. “The guy took on another mission.”

“What?” Minato furrows his brow. “That’s the fifth one this week! And it’s Friday!”

“Well,” Fugaku says solemnly. “He’s been trying to get out of the village as much as possible, with everything going on…”

“What?” Minato repeats. “Then what about Kakashi-kun?”

“He’s an academy student now,” Orochimaru hums. “So he’s mostly out of the house during the week, not to mention that Kyōichirō’s there as a babysitter.”

“Still…” Minato frowns. “I’m sure Kakashi-kun wants his dad to be around more.”

“Of course,” Orochimaru nods. “But unfortunately, the situation continues to deteriorate. The rumours have started getting worse.”

“...” Shikaku pauses. “... I didn’t wanna bring this up without asking Kyōichirō first,” He begins. “But their house got egged this morning.”

“ What ?!”

Orochimaru stares.

“Wait,” Minato’s halfway standing, now. “Why?!”

“Because they hate Sakumo, obviously,” Shikaku drawls. “I was passing by Kyōichirō cleaning it up. He said it’s the only time it’s happened so far, and he managed to clean it up before Kakashi found out, but…”

“They have some balls,” Fugaku snorts. “Doing that to a ninja’s house.”

“Unless the perpetrator was also a ninja,” Orochimaru considers.

“But don’t the ninja know about the mission?” Minato asks. "Why would they do anything if they know Sakumo hasn't done any wrong?"

“Only high-ranked ninja,” Shikaku replies. “Chunin and under don’t know anything.”

“But who would be stupid enough to attack a high-ranked jōnin’s house like that?!”

Shikaku scoffs into his tea.

“You’d be surprised.”

“They also probably knew the man himself wasn’t home,” Fugaku crosses his arms. “It’s no secret that Sakumo’s been taking on a lot of missions recently in some sort of messed-up way of making up for his ‘blunder’.”

“How did the rumors even escalate up to that point?” Minato looks uncharacteristically serious.

“Kyōichirō said–”

“So it comes back to him after all–”

“Stop interrupting me!” Shikaku snaps. “Anyway, both Kyōichirō and I were speculating that someone’s been purposely fuelling the rumors.”

“That’s not too far-fetched,” Minato says. “It’s a natural conclusion.”

“Yes, but it felt like he had more to say,” Shikaku continues. “But he stopped himself because he said it wasn’t too good to speculate too far without more evidence.”

“A wise decision,” Fugaku nods. “And? Do you have more to contribute, or are you just the spokesperson for the kid?”

Shikaku rolls his eyes at them.

“I think it’s the advisors.”

“Oh?” Orochimaru readjusts his kimono. “Why?”

“Gut feeling.”

“Gut–?!” Minato gawps. “You can’t accuse the esteemed advisors on a gut feeling!”

“Calm down, Minato-kun,” Orochimaru pats the boy’s shoulder gently. “When he says ‘gut-feeling’, he doesn’t mean it the same way we do. He’s intuitively put it together in his head, but he can’t verbalize his deductions, because he’s socially inept.”

“Hey…”

“I reckon the only person who’d be able to parse him out would be Kyōichirō-kun.”

“Right,” Fugaku nods. “Even though he’s quite socially adjusted, he’s recluse enough to match Shikaku’s level of weird genius.”

“Alright, but have you considered that Kyōichirō’s just smarter than all of you?”

“Shikaku-dono,” A familiar young voice intones. “It’s not good to talk about others behind their backs, you know.”

Orochimaru whips his head around to spot a little, positively dripping wet figure approaching them through the lawn.

“Kyōichirō!” Minato exclaims. “Where did you come from?!”

Kyōichirō sighs, looking positively inconvenienced.

“I was in the river,” He says, holding his geta in his hands. “And I was going to stop before I hit the Nara forest, but your lovely deer caught me and dragged me through the water all the way here.”

Said deer was clearly not happy with his existence, butting its head into the small of Kyōichirō’s back as the child continued to walk casually up to them.

‘I was going to stop before I hit the Nara forest’ implies that the child was not trying to kill himself again, so orochimaru doesn’t say anything, only watching the boy squeeze the water out of his kimono with such brute force that he’s surprised that (surprisingly well-maintained) thing hadn’t ripped yet.”

“Like I was saying,” Kyōichirō says. “It’s not nice to talk behind other people’s backs.”

“Only good things, Kyōichirō-kun,” Orochimaru reaches out, channeling some chakra in his hands to make a make-shift blow dryer to get the water out of the child’s hair.

“I’m sure,” The child drawls, as if he can see right through them. “I bet you were saying something about how I’m the only one who’s weird enough to match Shikaku-dono’s thought process.”

“You heard that?” Minato flushes.

Kyōichirō blinks.

“... I didn’t,” He says. “But thank you for confirming.”

Minato keels over and starts rolling around, mortified.

“... Did he just call me weird?” Shikaku asks Fugaku.

Fugaku snorts.

“What do you think?”

Shikaku blinks, then looks down at the table, considering.

“... Am I weird?”

Kyōichirō doesn’t even look at him, instead climbing onto the engawa and padding into the house as if he lived there.

“Is your mother home?” Kyōichirō asks.

“No,” Shikaku replies. “She went out to see some friends.”

“Pity,” Is all Kyōichirō says before he shuffles into the kitchen, returning with a single cup and a pack of senbei.

“Does he come here that often?” Fugaku asks. “He sure knows his way around.”

“Shikaku-dono is often in the mood for shōgi,” Kyōichirō says, sitting himself down and pouring himself a cup of tea. “And the one thing about being a child is that you have an obscene amount of free time, so I’ve been coming here and playing with him.”

“Don’t you have a job?” Minato looks at Shikaku. “How can you have that much time? It takes hours when you play shōgi with Kyo-kun.”

“I can usually do my paperwork while playing with Kyo,” Shikaku replies.

Kyōichirō nods.

“I’m still not that much of a challenge for him,” He says, nibbling on a senbei. “I’ve still only won one or two matches.”

“It’s 98 to 2,” Shikaku recites off the top of his head.

“Oh, we’ve hit a hundred already?” Kyōichirō bites another chunk out of his senbei. “Happy 100th shōgi game, I suppose.”

“Doesn’t that hurt your pride…?” Minato looks at Kyōichirō pitifully.

“...?” Kyōichirō blinks. “No…?”

“I’m pretty sure this classifies as bullying,” Fugaku says to Shikaku. “Is it really that fun trouncing a kid at a board game? Wait,” Fugaku stops, and backtracks. “Right. Kyōichirō is actually an old man, so you’re technically not bullying little kids.”

“How’d you know?” Kyōichirō says, a little too genuinely for Orochimaru’s liking. “I’m actually 56.”

“What?” Fugaku turns to the boy. “I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“...?”

Kyōichirō goes back to ignoring them and munching on his senbei.

Honestly, this child– he just says what he wants and ends the conversation on his own…

“Oh,” Kyōichirō begins anew. “Did I tell you that I met with Nadeshiko-kun last week?”

“Who’s Nadeshiko?” Minato asks, curious.

“Wait,” Shikaku stares. “You don’t mean… the daimyo… right?”

“Hm?” Kyōichirō blinks, picking up another rice cracker. “Oh, right. Yes. He’s the daimyo now.”

“?!”

 

***

 

It started like this.

“What can I get for you, boy?” 

Kyōichirō hums, looking up at the menu.

“... Shoyu, please” He murmurs.

“Right’o! How do you want your noodles?”

“Just regular, please.”

It’s late at night, and Kyōichirō has a sudden craving for ramen, so here he is, at a little ramen stand on the outskirts of the red-light-district in the middle of the night, rubbing his cold hands together.

He hadn’t bothered with his gloves, simply in his kimono and a coat– he’s quite sure that the ramen store owner wouldn’t be impolite and ask too much about the state of his hands.

Kyōichirō is the only one there– if he recalls correctly, Ichiraku usually had two workers, the owner and his son, Teuchi, but he supposes the man would have sent his son to sleep since it’s so–

“Ah, Kyōichirō-kun!” 20-year-old Teuchi walks to the counter, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Have you gotten your order taken yet?’

Kyōichirō nods, and Teuchi sets a cup of hot tea in front of him.

“What are you doing out here so late at night?” The man asks as his father silently prepares his dish. “Night cravings?”

“Yes,” Kyōichirō replies. “I wanted to have something with rich broth, so I came out.”

“Does the matron know?”

Kyōichirō smiles, and holds a finger up to his lips.

Teuchi laughs heartily.

After a few more exchanged words, Teuchi gets back to work, and Kyōichirō plays cat’s cradle idly with a length of string.

“Here’s your Shoyu ramen!” The owner places the bowl in front of him.

“Thank you,” Kyōichirō nods, and takes a pair of chopsticks, preparing to dig in, when another person sits a seat away from him, entirely covered in a cloak.

How suspicious, he thinks, picking up the spoon.

“One tonkatsu, please, hard noodles,” It’s a low, mellow voice– unassuming enough that Kyōichirō would not have thought anything of it if not for the three other presences somewhere around them. “And a cup of tea.”

“Coming right up!” The owner says.

Kyōichirō glances at the man. It must be some kind of noble, he figures. A runaway?

“... Thank you for the food,” Kyōichirō mumbles under his breath, before trying the soup.

He hadn’t eaten here before, so he didn’t really have any expectations. Kushina had simply mentioned this place once before, and he’d decided to try it out instead of at a closer store. It was only another block away, after all.

… It’s just the right amount of salty, and he can taste the soup base.

Kyōichirō picks up some noodles and has that too. It’s not too soggy, and not too hard, though he supposes it’s a preference thing, and it was an option to have it adjusted.

“So,” The person begins conversationally. “What’s a little kid like you doing out here so late at night?”

Kyōichirō looks up at him.

“What’s a high-ranking noble like you doing in Konohagakure?” Kyōichirō asks in return. “Shouldn’t you be in the capital? I can’t think of any official events that require someone such as yourself to be present in the military village.”

The person beside him flinches.

“... Are you a ninja?” The man asks. “Since when are they allowed to graduate so early?”

Kyōichirō has another bite of his food.

“I’m not a ninja, or an academy student,” Kyōichirō replies. “I’m a civilian child.”

“You must not fit in with the other children, huh?” The man comments rather tactlessly. Weren’t these nobles meant to be trained in the art of conversation? “You seem like a rather precocious one.”

Kyōichirō readjusts his coat.

“I suppose,” He says as Teuchi places the man’s order in front of him. “So? What are you doing here? You didn’t answer, earlier.”

The man pulls his hood down to eat, and Kyōichirō pauses.

Huh.

What a beautiful man.

Long, sleek black hair falls down his shoulders, tumbling all the way down to the start of his hip, framing his small face and angular, sharp eyes. Kyōichirō thinks the unbound hair is an attempt to hide his striking features, but it can’t fool Kyōichirō’s eyes.

“.. Ah,” Kyōichirō says, turning back to his food. “You must be the first son.”

 

***

 

Nadeshiko wonders if they feed the children different things in Konohagakure, or if this child is just particularly strange.

They boy can’t be any older than 10,  and he looks exceptionally pretty, and combined with his mannerisms, make him seem more like a well-bred noble child rather than a civilian commoner.

“... What gave it away?” He asks curiously, eyeing the child.

“You’re not good at posing as a commoner,” The child says. “You tried to dress in shabbier clothes to blend in, but you haven’t gotten rid of the smell of incense that I suspect the servants burn in your chambers, your hands are completely unblemished and clean, and your hair has been maintained by what I suspect are multiple different products, and even though you’re bare-faced, your skin is in a condition that no commoner could possibly maintain.”

Nadeshiko reels from the barrage of information.

“... I see,” Nadeshiko says. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll fix those things next time.”

The boy looks at him– and Nadeshiko wonders if this boy also got mistaken for nobility as well– he’s also impeccably well-maintained, outside of his shabby clothes, and his gestures, the way he speaks, the way he holds himself…

“And also,” The boy continues. “You look like your mother.”

Nadeshiko flinches.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” The boy intones. “That your mother was once regarded as the most beautiful woman in the elemental nations– her portrait was everywhere. You are her striking image.”

Nadeshiko stares.

“Were you even born, when my mother was around?”

The boy hums.

“I read through old newspapers often.”

Plausible, Nadeshiko supposed, before turning to partake in his food.

The boy doesn’t talk to him again that night, but the silence is not uncomfortable, like it always was in the Daimyo’s estate.

Nadeshiko feels relaxed in a way that he hasn’t in a very, very long time.

 

***

 

Kyōichirō finds the same cloaked man when he comes to Ichiraku on the Friday night of next week, and sighs.

Notes:

Thank you for reading <3333

Chapter 20: the daimyo, feminism, and monthly plant checkups

Summary:

Kyōichirō just cannot seem to catch a break with all these important people wafting around him... hopefully they will at least catch and spread his agenda in exchange for bothering him all the time...

Notes:

:D

I'm back...? I have no excuses ya'll, I'm so sorry. Don't take Fine Arts, everyone, seeing art is great but assessments SUCK.

And sorry the chapter's so short, I just thought it'd be better to post it now

“Nadeshiko-kun, don’t you have things you’re supposed to be doing now that you’re the daimyō? It’s a 2 day trip to and from the capital.”

Kyōichirō prods at this bowl of noodles. He’s chosen udon, today.

“You’re no fun, Kyōichirō-kun,” Nadeshiko (the daimyō, as of 2 weeks ago) tuts. “Why have responsibility if not to push it onto other people?”

Kyōichirō pulls his noodles onto a spoon and blows at it.

“Where’s your attendant?”

“I lost him on my way here.”

Kyōichirō hums.

“If a huge commotion breaks out about the daimyō going missing I will tattle immediately, just so you’re aware.”

“Mean,” Nadeshiko pouts.

He’d been so sophisticated the first time they’d met, but now he acts so childishly. Kyōichirō wonders why. There seems to be something about his presence that makes the adults around him drastically regress in mental age.

“It’s early for you to be here though, isn’t it?” Kyōichirō says. “You usually don’t come to Ichiraku’s until midnight.”

Nadeshiko finishes his bite of food before replying.

“I have a meeting with the Hokage in the evening, and we don’t know until what time it’ll run.”

Kyōichirō hums.

So he is here for official business. For someone with such heavy responsibilities, Nadeshiko plays around a lot, so he’d genuinely thought that the man had made a 2 day trip to Konohagakure just for his own entertainment.

“But I thought there was supposed to be a large event at the capital tonight,” Kyōichirō prods. The event with the oiran– that’s the reason he went around delivering those invitations, after all. “You had me deliver those invitations to Kiyozuru oiran and Hanagaki oiran a while back, no?”

“Ah,” Nadeshiko daintily flips his long, silky hair over his shoulder as he eats. “That was an event that my father wanted– but now that he’s dead, well.”

Nadeshiko shrugs.

Oh, Kyōichirō feels somewhat disappointed. He’d been looking forward to teasing Shikaku, who would have had to go.

“It’s not that it’s cancelled,” Nadeshiko amends. “It’s just that it will be rescheduled for a later date.”

Ah, so Shikaku would still be forced to go.

“Hm,” Kyōichirō hums. “Good luck with that.”

“Don’t even.”

Kyōichirō chuckles into his hand.

Nadeshiko sniffs, holding his nose high like the prissy court lady that he is.

“You’re lucky you’re an 11 year old.”

“Of course,” Kyōichirō placates.

They eat in silence for a while, before Kyōichirō speaks up again, when there’s no one around.

“How is the consort doing?”

Nadeshiko pauses, then smiles.

“We sent her back home,” He tells Kyōichirō. “Well, officially, she’s dead, but she’s back home now.”

“She has people waiting on her back in Takigakure?” Kyōichirō asks, curious. Most of the consorts under the previous daimyō, if not high-ranking individuals there for political reasons, ended up there due to their unfortunate circumstances being unable to protect them.

“Yes, her parents.”

Kyōichirō pauses. Something about that tone…

“... Out of curiosity, how old was this consort?” Kyōichirō prods.

“13, now. She was 10 when she came into the estate as a servant.”

Kyōichirō supposes most ninja children have their first kill around that age, but…

“Did the daimyō have many young consorts?”

“No,” Nadeshiko says solemnly. “She was the only one.”

Kyōichirō thinks.

Hm. Usually these cases are a running story, so it’s strange it was just the one.

“We’re sending compensation money to her family continuously,” Nadeshiko tells him. “They’re a house of farmers, and apparently their daughter was just kidnapped off the rice paddies one day.”

“I see,” Kyōichirō says. “How are you taking to having power?”

“I hate it,” Nadeshiko responds without missing a beat.

Kyōichirō laughs.

“Sometimes, that’s the mindset that’s needed,” Kyōichirō replies.

“You think?” Nadeshiko prods curiously. “I thought I’d hear ‘thou shalt love thy nation’ or something like that.”

Kyōichirō looks at Nadeshiko flatly.

“... From me ?”

The young daimyō laughs.

“I suppose patriotism isn’t your strong suit!”

“Ah,” Kyōichirō nods. “But I do thank you for making us one of the only nations that allow girls to have access to higher education.”

The daimyō stacks his chopsticks cleanly across his ramen bowl, looking at Kyōichirō from the side.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Nadeshiko begins. “Is equality your own sense of justice, or…?”

“Oh?” Kyōichirō huffs softly before he sips his tea. “Are you saying you don’t think it is?”

Nadeshiko pauses.

“Well, it isn’t out of character for you to do things out of a sense of justice and then try to justify it by claiming it was selfish, but I don’t think that’s the whole reason…”

“Are you an expert at reading me now, Nadeshiko?” Kyōichirō intones, his voice ending with a teasing lilt that even he doesn’t expect. “My, whatever should I do…”

Nadeshiko chuckles.

“Of course not,” He replies. “One of these days, I ought to crack your head open and take a look inside.

Kyōichirō takes another sip of tea, deliberating his response.

“... A society led by male supremacy isn’t productive ,” Kyōichirō says. “It’s simple, really– increasing the number of educated individuals in our country is undoubtedly a good thing.”

Nadeshiko nods slowly.

Kyōichirō glances at him from the corner of his eye.

“Do you have something to add?”

“... But if women develop work obligations, they will be taken away from household duties and child-rearing,” Nadeshiko begins carefully. “What then?”

“Of course, then men will have to take up the mantle,” Kyōichirō says. “In fact, in the first place, the responsibilities of the household were not meant for someone to shoulder alone. It has always been a joint effort.I’m sure you’re already aware that many of the men in this country are absent fathers– perhaps this will help balance it out. It takes a village to raise a child.”

“...”

“Do you disagree?”

“No, I agree,” Nadeshiko replies, shaking his head. “I just… men are inherently more logical, so I just think they might be more suited for work than household duties.”

Kyōichirō’s hands still, and he pauses to process what it was exactly that Nadeshiko had said.

“... Why do you think that man is inherently more logical?”

“...? Is that not just fact?” Nadeshiko asks, and his tone, Kyōichirō notices, is not defensive, simply enquiring. “Women are deeply emotional and sentimental creatures, who often cannot reach logical conclusions like men can.”

Kyōichirō blinks slowly.

“70 percent of our country’s crimes are committed by men,” Kyōichirō begins. “And almost 90 percent of violent crimes, as well as 80 percent of domestic violence– I would argue that you must be drastically emotional to commit some of these crimes.”

“Is that not just because women don’t have the means to commit violent crime?”

Kyōichirō shakes his head.

“Oh, they certainly have the means,” Kyōichirō replies. “Look at how many of our ninja are women. It’s definitely not because they don’t have the means.”

Nadeshiko pauses at this.

“... You have a point,” Nadeshiko begins. “But most of our ninja forces are men.”

“I wonder why…” Kyōichirō mutters under his breath.

“What?”

“What?”

Nadeshiko stares at him.

Kyōichirō averts his gaze.

“... Either way,” Kyōichirō returns to the topic in question. “Men often think in a very streamlined manner,” He begins. “They are, at their core, simple creatures. Men often have a thought, and say ‘eureka! I had an original thought!’, when it is thought that women have already deliberated and moved past in their teens.”

Nadeshiko listens intently, and Kyōichirō pretends to not notice the figure that has sat beside them listening in.

“Have you ever wondered why? Why is it that, in particular, the rich, powerful man, has a worldview so narrow?” Kyōichirō asks. “And why the female thought is so elaborate and diverse? It’s because thought, because originality, innovation, philosophy, they thrive under oppression . It is why the poor, the less powerful, are so often the only origins of radical ideas.”

“And biologically, women are faster to mature than men are,” Nadeshiko adds on, considering. “That makes sense. But I don’t think it’s fair to make a sweeping generalization that men cannot have original thoughts. Aren’t most of our historical, philosophical texts, written by men? Is not most of our infrastructure and education led by men?”

“Of course,” Kyōichirō nods. “I definitely could have phrased that better. However, why do you think it is that we have so little intellectual property and achievements from women?”

“...” Nadeshiko considers. “Because they have not been granted the opportunity to do such things, like men have. And whenever someone tried, they were hammered down.”

Kyōichirō smiles, and pulls his gloves back on.
“A popular argument against women in positions of power and decision-making is because of their fluctuating hormones– or in other words, their 3 week long bodily cycles. Again, the notion that they’re too emotional,” Kyōichirō adjusts them to fit on his fingers more snugly. “In reality, when women are in the middle of their cycle, what’s happening is the rising of testosterone levels, and we can then make the argument that when they’re emotional, they’re acting like men.”

Nadeshiko is watching him intently, like a particularly diligent student. It’s almost nostalgic.

“Either way,” Kyōichirō adjusts his kimono sleeves. “Humans are inherently emotional creatures– regardless of sex. Sentience, emotional quality,” Kyōichirō smiles. “Is that not what differentiates us from other animals? There is no sense in demonizing emotional quality.”

Kyōichirō places money down on the counter.

“If we must differentiate between sexes,” He finishes off. “It is not that these men who say those things are logical, it is that they lack empathy .”

Kyōichirō pauses.

“... No, that came out wrong. It’s more to say that they have not been taught it.”

He turns to Nadeshiko.

“All I’m saying,” He continues softly. “Is that, when equal opportunity is granted, our society becomes richer in knowledge, in perspective,” He smiles. “Is that not an exciting thought?”

And that’s all Kyōichirō wants. He doesn’t want to hear the same, boring thoughts repeated over and over again, all from the perspective of the same people in the same position in society. He wants to hear of, read of, a rich, diverse pool of ideas, of philosophy, of ethics, of literature and sciences.

Nadeshiko seems to have fallen deep into thought.

“Either way,” Kyōichirō says, getting up. “Don’t blindly accept what I say, either. You must think about it yourself.”

He has an appointment with Fugaku, so he says his goodbyes and leaves.

 

***

 

“Nadeshiko,” The hooded figure intones as Nadeshiko drowns in his thoughts. “You’ve made quite the interesting friend.”

Nadeshiko doesn’t bow, but his entire body twitches, out of habit.

“... Indeed, Mikado-sama,” He says instead, his head bowed respectfully. “He’s a precocious child.”

Nadeshiko corrects himself, looking at the emperor dead on so as not to give away the man’s identity.

It’s surreal, really– he’d met the man once before, in an official setting. He’d been a dignified, regal figure, with a stony countenance and stiff expression.

Of course, he soon found out that the man was just a weirdo.

Nadeshiko had been pulled aside after the event, with a few of the emperor’s close aides, and it wasn’t long before the man had dropped his demeanour and became a regular drunk, laughy middle aged man.

A far more progressive man than Nadeshiko had pegged him as.

Of course, everyone knew that the emperor was really just a figurehead, some even assuming he was just a silly, ignorant old rich bastard who knew nothing of the situation he was in, but in reality, he was much different.

The emperor was well-read, self-aware, and more down to earth than Nadeshiko had imagined, and he’d eventually replaced in his presence.

Though he’d eventually wormed his way into the emperor’s good graces and didn’t have a bad opinion of the ruler at all, he was shocked when he’d gotten into the carriage at the crack of dawn to sneak away from the capital to leisurely spend his time in Konoha and the emperor had wriggled out of a haybale like a worm to greet him.

By then, they were already too far from the capital to turn back, and Nadeshiko was stuck with the man until further notice.

The man laughs heartily.

“Stop with that, Nadeshiko-kun,” He lifts the entire bowl to drink up all the broth, an undignified gesture that his aides would have surely scolded him for. “I’m just a regular guy today.”

“You say that, but…”

The man slaps him on the back.

“Come on, Nadeshiko!” The man insists. “Show me around or something! And tell me more about your little friend!”

“Yes, sir…”

 

***

 

Kyōichirō scratches his ear.

Someone must be talking about him.

“You okay there, kid?” Fugaku asks him, brow raised.

Kyōichirō nods.

“Mm. I’m fine,” Kyōichirō drops his hand.

Fugaku sighs.

“Keep your secrets then.”

Kyōichirō doesn’t feel as though he’s keeping any secrets at all, but he lets it slide, as Fugaku seems to be preoccupied with a more pressing matter at the moment.

Namely, the little plant child clinging to the top of his head and trying (and failing) to grow roots on him and attempting to cause early balding by eating his hair.

“I can tell you’re trying not to laugh, you brat,” Fugaku grumbles at him. “You may think you’re all mysterious and nonchalant and all, but your cheeks are puffed out like a blowfish.”

“N-no they’re not,” Kyōichirō manages to say without losing himself. “Why would I laugh at you, Fugaku-dono?”

The man had come around to the orphanage to check on Mame, and the child, recognizing him, had walked up to him and immediately started chewing and drooling on his pants.

Kyōichirō is actually beginning to suspect that when he listed the people she was to answer to, she had interpreted them as ‘people who she can eat’, because lately, all she does is cling to any one of the aforementioned people and start biting them.

As someone who often bit people to feed himself, being bit is a new experience. Kyōichirō feels rather enlightened.

Fugaku sighs, lifting an arm to pluck the child off his scalp, and then wincing when he realizes he’d have to risk a few hair follicles to remove her.

Kyōichirō, finally taking pity on the poor, overworked man, snaps his fingers.

“Down, Mame,” He points at the ground in front of him. “Down, girl.”

Mame blinks at him, looking slightly less feral, though the hair is still in her mouth, and obediently climbs off of Fugaku and sits down in front of him.

Fugaku looks at Kyōichirō, appalled.

“Are you training a dog or raising a child?!” He hisses.

Kyōichirō sighs, long-suffering.

“Fugaku-dono, how do you hope to raise children with Mikoto-dono if you cannot even begin to fathom what it takes to discipline one?”

“Hang on, why are you talking as if I’m the unreasonable one here?” Fugaku questions. “Even when there's clearly something wrong with this picture?”

The man gestures wildly to the little girl on the ground, who has now rolled over onto her back, gesturing for a belly rub.

Kyōichirō squats down behind her and does just that.

“Don’t just ignore me!” Fugaku sounds distressed.

“What are you so stressed about, Fugaku-dono?” Kyōichirō scratches the dog’s– ahem, the child’s belly. “There’s nothing wrong at all.”

Fugaku looks like he’s about to burst a vein.

“Stop gaslighting me!”

“Goodness, Kyōichirō, are you giving poor Fugaku premature white hairs again?”

Kyōichirō looks at the person approaching from behind Fugaku, and bobs his head in greeting.

“Orochimaru-dono… and Jiraiya-san…”

“Oi, what was that pause?!” The mountain man points accusingly at him, comically enraged. “And why am I ‘-san’?! What the heck, Orochimaru, do you see this disrespect, at me, the Great Toad Sage–”

“Oh, be quiet, Jiraiya.”

Fugaku looks somehow even more tired now.

“What are you two even doing here?”

“How is the girl doing?” Orochimaru asks, completely ignoring him.

“She’s doing alright, overall,” Kyōichirō says. “Up, Mame. Give Orochimaru-dono your hand.”

The girl does as she’s told.

“Oh, well, we’re just moving on without me, I guess,” Fugaku grumbles under his breath.

“Mame’s constitution is a lot different from the other children, and Orochimaru-dono seems to be the only one with the knowledge to treat and check up on her,” Kyōichirō explains patiently to the older man. “Though, I’m not too sure where he got such expertise…”

Fugaku wrinkles his nose.

“Kid, I need you to not unearth any more conspiracy theories– we’ve got our hands full enough as it is.”

Kyōichirō simply shrugs, walking back over to the little girl.

“Is she doing alright?” Kyōichirō asks Orochimaru. “Is she any better?”

Orochimaru hums, releasing his diagnostic jutsu and backing away from the little girl who ad some point had rolled over and let him touch her tummy.

“It seems so,” He says softly as usual. “Maybe you can give her more sunlight.”

“Is she a plant or somethin’?” Jiraiya quips, snorting.

“Yes, actually,” Kyōichirō says.

Fugaku blinks.

“... Pardon?”

“... Huh?” Jiraiya makes a rather stupid sound. “Wait, kid, I can never tell when you’re joking or not.”

“He’s not joking, you big oaf,” Orochimaru tuts– Kyōichirō notes that his patience runs thin very, very quickly whenever Jiraiya so much as opens his mouth. “As it is right now, the girl is more plant than human.”

“What the heck, snake bastard, you better explain right now how the heck that happened–”

“I’m busy, actually,” Orochimaru pushes past the man, turning to Kyōichirō once more before he leaves. “Make sure she gets enough water.”

And he’s gone as fast as he came.

Jiraiya sputters.

“Wait, you prick…!”

He runs off after him.

Kyōichirō has noticed that the man has been rather busy as of late– he always seems to be nin a rush to go someplace or the other, never stopping in one spot for too long or even sparing time to talk to the people around him.

“Say, Fugaku-dono,” Kyōichirō begins. “Are you aware if Orochimaru-dono has taken on any large projects as of late?”

Fugaku turns to him, taking him apart with his gaze as he usually does before answering him.

“... No, not that I know of– as far as I know, he’s meant for a couple-day break after coming back from the front lines, actually.”

“Hm,” Kyōichirō sounds. “I see.”

“What, do you think something’s up?”

Kyōichirō watches as Mame rolls around in the grass in front of them, somehow not crushing a killing a single weed she runs over.

“... Not anything sure, yet, but I think something will happen soon…”

He feels Fugaku eye him once more.

“... If you say so, kid.”

 

***

 

“How’s your father doing as of late, Kakashi?” Kyōichirō asks as the boy lets him into the house. “Well?”

The boy goes silent, head hanging.

“... I think he’s been doing worse,” Kakashi mumbles. “He’s been forced to take a leave, but he’s just… out of it all the time.”

Kyōichirō sighs.

“Are you on your way to the Academy?”

Kakashi nods.

“Yeah…”

Kyōichirō places a hand atop the boy’s head.

“I hear they’re planning to graduate you today,” Kyōichirō says. “... They must be really desperate for people.”

Kakashi looks up at him, saying nothing.

“... Remind me to get you a gift,” Kyōichirō says. “Anything you like.”

Kakashi seems to smile under the mask, his spirits uplifted.

“Un,” The boy nods. “Thank you, Kyō-nii.”

Kyōichirō ruffles Kakashi’s hair roughly and sends him off with a pat on the back, and turns to the front door of the house.

He sighs deeply.

Oh dear.

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed;; hopefully I won't have as big a gap in time before the next chapter;;;

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Original work-verse