The Koi and the Lance

by The_Jashinist

Summary:

Sasuke's battle with Deidara is interrupted by one of Deidara's siblings, shifting his perspective a little. As the contrasts and comparisons between his own life and that of this girl grow ever more visible, questions he doesn't find welcome start creeping into his mind. Like how much he can trust what people tell him, and how far he's willing to go for revenge.

A ghost of Shikamaru's past shows up in the flesh as his hard-earned justice unravels. The more strands he grasps at, the more he finds himself tearing loose, and the more he's confronted with what his actions mean to those who don't see it as justice.

Ino and Sai are caught up in the lives of two siblings whose lives, and world, are forever touched by the blood in their veins. As danger comes to demand an unfair tithe, they must choose between their own safety and that of strangers.

Three stories intertwine around the schemes and actions of one man, whose choices bring war to the Ninja World, in spite of all best efforts.

Notes:

I am no longer afraid to post my stupid OC ship fics. You will accept my garbage.

Chapter 1

The Akatsuki had survived.  Of course he had.  This fight hadn’t gone a single way Sasuke had wanted it to, why would this be any different?  Drop him on the mines, make it easier to traverse the landscape, deal with the other Akatsuki that seemed impervious to his sword and—shit where was his sword?  He left it in the minefield didn’t he?  Well, at least it was probably intact.

The Akatsuki was too high up to do anything now.  Worse, he was getting reckless.  Reckless would’ve suited him fine in any other scenario, but this was an arsonist.  If Sasuke didn’t take this fight one careful step at a time, he was liable to get a bomb to the face, no matter how close the Akatsuki was to detonation.

Then again careful steps hadn’t served him too well thus far, hadn’t even really kept him one step ahead.  The Akatsuki was smart, smart in ways Sasuke hadn’t actually anticipated, and weren’t necessarily apparent from his proud proclamations.

This had to end now, and it had to end fast.

The clack of sandals on a tree branch, and Sasuke tensed.  He’d been looking up at that Akatsuki he hadn’t even thought to look for the other—

But it wasn’t him, he was still standing a few trees away, and stared headlong at the same thing that caught Sasuke’s attention.  Perched right on the same tree, shielding her eyes from the sun glare as she stared skyward, was a kunoichi Sasuke had not even slightly realized was nearby.

She looked a bit like the Akatsuki he’d been fighting, not very tall, and lithe.  Her strawberry-blonde hair was parted the same way, though shorter and pulled all the way up into a spiky ponytail.  She’d pinned her choppy bangs aside to make her forehead protector visible.  She wore a blue kimono with one loose sleeve baring a cropped black tank top, lean muscle following the lines of her arm down to a pair of red-armored gauntlets.

“I knew it,” she whispered.  Clearly, she hadn’t seen Sasuke at all.  With a deep inhale and an outstretched arm, she started shouting.  “Deidara!  Dei!  Hey!  It’s me!  Narumi!”

Sasuke stared, all at once it felt like every single ounce of tension had just fully left him.  The girl started jumping on the branch as she waved, the dopiest crooked grin plastered across her face.  Now, she reminded him of someone, someone who also had wild blond hair and a propensity for inane shouting, ironically.

“Who is that?” the Akatsuki’s partner shouted, pointing to the girl.  “Is she an enemy?  Oh is she with Itachi’s brother?  Are we fighting—”

“NO THE FUCK WE ARE NOT!” the airborne Akatsuki shouted back.  “AND SHE BETTER NOT BE WITH THAT BOY!”

The girl finally paused and looked at Sasuke, then gave a friendly wave.  Something fell into place, and Sasuke quickly flicked his gaze up to the Akatsuki.  He hadn’t sent a single attack their way.  The girl was too close for an explosive and he was too far up to gauge a more precise attack properly.  That girl had value to him.  He didn’t want her to get caught in any crossfire.

That could be useful.

Sasuke flicked his hand out, focusing his chakra into a blade just long enough to reach under the girl’s throat.  She jerked her head back just a little, eyebrows raised.  Sasuke met her gaze evenly.

“Tell him to stand down,” he ordered.  The girl knit her brow, then her attention drifted to the Akatsuki’s partner.  He didn’t see her expression shift, but it must have, because the masked man jerked back with a yelp.

“Got a name stranger?” the girl asked, not looking at Sasuke but plainly addressing him.

“Not one you need to know,” Sasuke answered.  “All I need—”

“Mine’s Narumi,” the girl interrupted, turning to him with a wry smile.  “Pleasure.”

She was too calm.  Why?  Wasn’t she worried about what he would do to her?

Narumi leaned back then swiveled around the branch.  The whole tree shuddered and jolted, and Narumi’s leading hand burst from her side of the trunk, a delayed crack of hissing air severing the rest of the trunk.  Sasuke kicked off the tree trunk and skidded into the crater left by the mines.  Narumi followed, bouncing her way across the loosened dirt as she slowed her progress.  She lifted her hand up, holding out an open palm, and Sasuke tensed.  Then a gust of air rolled over him and the clay bird once well above them flew just a meter overhead.

He hadn’t realized the Akatsuki had gotten so close, but as the clay bird came about, he signaled back with a closed fist and lifted upwards once more.  Sasuke looked down at Narumi, who smiled and spun a hooked kunai in one hand.

Sasuke weighed his options.  He didn’t have a lot of chakra left, especially if he kept using his Sharingan or Chidori.  She had completely ripped through that tree too.  It didn’t look like her hand had a scratch on it.  A fight with her would probably be as long and grueling as the fight with the Akatsuki above them if he didn’t play his cards right.

She’d signaled for the Akatsuki to stay back, so clearly, she was confident she could take him without help.  Normally he’d think that bold, but he imagined he looked as exhausted as he felt.  Fuck, was he starting to feel the aches of overworking himself too.  His back burned where his wing would normally be, would probably sport a nasty bruise if he made it out of this.

That wasn’t even touching on his foot.  With the distortion of the curse mark gone, he could see the raw bits of skin blistering off and the cracks coming up from the charred sole of his foot.  He kept his weight off of it, only grazing the ground with the ball of his foot.  Hell, even that hurt, like a knife across the skin.  And she could see every bit of that.

Narumi jolted forwards, bringing her foot around towards the ground as chakra concentrated in the sole.  Her opposite hand flicked fast between a lighting and earth seal just as her foot connected.

Bad.  Bad.  Sasuke needed to move.

Forgetting the pain in his foot he bolted back, which was a half-measure.  The ground crackled and buckled, then with a great thrum of noise and heat, exploded back out.

Sasuke stumbled on his landing, dropping low and letting the following shockwave roll over him.  Same technique as the clay bombs, a lot shorter range, and the Earth Chakra ignition wasn’t delayed.  He couldn’t cut it off before it detonated.

The air in the smoke whistled, and Sasuke strafed back as a shape took form.  He knew that sound, clear as day.

Narumi burst through the smoke, Sasuke’s own sword in one hand as she brought it around to slash.  It was a feint, meant to drive him back, but Sasuke didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He had to keep close to her, keep her engaged.  Signal or not that Akatsuki wasn’t bombing him to hell because she was in range.

Sasuke ducked under the slash and reached for the hilt in her hand, but the bottom of the blade would’ve worked.  No dice.  She caught his shoulder as a landing spot and dropped down, effectively pinning him.

“Pretty eyes,” she complimented, sticking his sword in the ground and dropping her hand down into a lightning seal.  The blade crackled with energy.  “Figure the trick is to not focus on them, right?  Like an optical illusion.”

Exactly right, he’d be impressed if she wasn’t about to kill him.  He needed something, literally anything.

Sasuke grabbed the blade of his sword and channeled his own chakra into it.  It wasn’t much, but she wouldn’t be able to blow them both up.

“Takes most folks ages to figure it, how lightning and earth makes an explosion,” Narumi flipped her hand to the top of the blade.  “Takes them longer to figure out that adding more lightning diffuses it.”

“Neither of you hide your hand signals,” Sasuke croaked out.  “You’re igniting the blast with Earth signs.”

“And Earth is weak to lightning,” Narumi smiled.  “Smart boy, but you did just, in effect, make a lightning rod.”

Narumi flicked out her hooked kunai and held it to the flat of the blade.

“So, I’m still controlling the amount of lightning in the metal.”

Shit.

---

Well, Fuck.

Shikamaru stared down at the symbol burned into the dirt, a triangle circumscribed.  Just like the circles drawn in blood, burned into his memory.  Quite a time to have this much work dumped on him.

“We contacted Yugakure already,” Izumo reported, but he was staring at the symbol too.  “I know you wanted to handle anything involving him but—”

“I did,” Shikamaru confirmed, not letting Izumo talk him out of anything, “What did Yugakure say?”

“Nothing,” Izumo replied, “the hawk didn’t even return.”

Comforting.  That meant an interception, didn’t it?  Yugakure might not even know there was any trouble.  Nevermind it, they didn’t need to know.  If this was some Jashinist’s attempt at turning the scales, they were in for a wake-up call.

Hidan was already buried in pieces; they weren’t getting him back.

“Here they are,” Ino’s voice was distinct, even from this far off.  “Shikamaru!  Yugakure sent someone!”

“They could’ve told us,” Izumo muttered.

Shikamaru turned, brow knit.  They would’ve.  Who did they even—

His blood ran cold making eye contact with the shinobi.  A man of average height, dressed in a practical rendition of priest’s robes, and silver hair tied back with only a small fringe.  It was his single eye—the other was covered—that bothered him so much.

Deep violet, with the same cold indifference; he looked like Hidan.

“Yugakure didn’t send me at all, Mikami Shrine did,” the man corrected, placing a hand on his chest.  “Kyouta, Hidan was a member of our clan, so we take responsibility for his actions over the village.”

A lance to match the rook, then?  And Mikami Shrine…that was a shinobi shrine, right on the border.  The shrine could’ve intercepted the hawk easily.

But why?  Clearly, Hidan didn’t retain the faith he was born to.  If the Mikami Shrine wanted to cut off the village’s access to Hidan, there had to be a reason, beyond their own sense of duty.  Besides, where had they been when one of their own had carved a bloody path across the Land of Fire?  Where had they been when Hidan killed Chiriku or Asuma?

Shikamaru bit the inside of his cheek.  He had to word his questions carefully, because Kyouta had his own secrets to keep, and he clearly had every intent on keeping them.

“Is Hidan sealed nearby?” Kyouta asked, circling the symbol on the ground.

“Close enough,” Shikamaru answered.  “It’s closer to where we killed Kakuzu.”

Kyouta flicked his eye up to Shikamaru.  “His partner?” Kyouta guessed.  “I don’t recognize his name.”

“He was Takigakure,” Shikamaru said, trying to figure what Kyouta needed to know and what truths Shikamaru could bend.  They were closer to where Kakuzu had been killed, but they were still close enough to Hidan’s grave that someone looking could find it.

“And not of Jashin?” Kyouta guessed.

“Akatsuki, not Jashin,” Shikamaru confirmed.  Kyouta perked up at mention of the Akatsuki.

“That’s odd, Jashinism usually forbids working in any capacity with nonbelievers,” Kyouta recalled, then turned back to the symbol.  “This isn’t their work either, look.”

Kyouta gently scuffed one sandal on the symbol, which crinkled like breaking glass.  Shikamaru knelt and brushed the soot aside.  The symbol wasn’t just burned into the ground, the earth had melted in the shape and cooled rapidly, forming lines of obsidian deep into the earth.

“Lava Release,” Kyouta identified, “Iwagakure shinobi occasionally inherit the gift.  So, maybe this isn’t about Hidan.  Maybe this was just the best way to get your attention.”

A reasonable notion, Shikamaru doubted anyone really had intent of avenging Hidan or Kakuzu.  Neither seemed like they got along with each other, let alone other people.  They were just two disagreeable monsters forced to share breathing space.

“Then we won’t know what they want until they make another move,” Izumo remarked.  “I’ll check in our records to see if any Iwagakure shinobi arrived recently.”

“Right, and I’ll check Hidan’s seal,” Shikamaru nodded, “Just to be safe.  Thank you for your help, Kyouta.”

Izumo and Ino nodded, while Kyouta gave a shallow bow.  Shikamaru still didn’t trust him, but at the very least he didn’t think the young man had any ill-intent.

“Can I ask something?” Shikamaru spoke up as the others departed.

“Of course,” Kyouta gave a polite smile.

“Why did Mikami Shrine intercept Yugakure’s hawk?  Why not let the village take care of this?”

Kyouta gave half a scoff.  “Yugakure’s been trying to ‘fix’ this Hidan problem since he turned his back on the shrine.  The clan elders don’t think the village is up to the task anymore.  Hidan is one of us, so he’s our responsibility.”

“You think he’s your responsibility,” Shikamaru guessed.

“Yeah, actually,” Kyouta nodded.  “He’s my older brother.”

Oh, oh, Shikamaru felt a pit in his gut.  That must’ve been why he was sent over anyone else.

“I’m sorry,” Shikamaru said softly.

“Don’t be,” Kyouta held up a hand.  “Hidan and I haven’t spoken in many years, not since this parting gift.”  Kyouta indicated his eyepatch.  “I should go back to the village, though, leave you to that seal.”

“Would you like to come with?” Shikamaru asked, too quickly.  Kyouta raised his eyebrows.

“You—Can I?” he asked.

“As long as you’re with me,” Shikamaru shrugged.  “It’s always a pain to walk all the way out there.  I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Kyouta’s polite smile settled into something all the more genuine.  “You’re kinder than I thought you’d be,” he remarked.  “Sorry, the last few people who met me after Hidan were…less friendly than you or your friend.”

“You’re not your brother,” Shikamaru replied.  “Are you coming?”

“Sure.”

Notes:

Sasuke and Shikamaru, with Feeling: FUCK.

Oh also Narumi's kimono has an actual pattern to it it's this: https://myjapanclothes.com/cdn/shop/files/koi-carp-design-mens-kimono-rishiri_4.jpg?v=1700147566

Chapter 2

Deidara wanted to rip that boy’s fucking eyes out.  He tried to threaten Narumi?  The fucking nerve.  Deidara was lucky his little sister wasn’t a pushover.  As the dust crackled from the most recent blast, Deidara kind of wished she wasn’t a reckless idiot either, but he could forgive it considering the blast was low power.

Didn’t stop Deidara from jumping back to earth to check on her as the smoke cleared.

“Narumi?” Deidara tested, trying not to speak too loud.

As if on cue, Narumi bounced backwards out of the smoke cloud, spinning a hooked kunai on one finger.  She was covered in dust and soot, but the burns didn’t look too bad.

“Thought I gave a stay back signal, hm?” she glanced back, the start of a pout on her face, then she looked down at his arms.  “What the fuck were you doing?  Competitive dick measuring?”

“It’s good to see you too, hm,” Deidara sighed.  She was starting to sound like Kurotsuchi.

“Wish I could say the same,” Narumi shrugged, turning back to the clearing smoke, “you look like shit.”

“Thanks Narumi.”

“Anytime—oh you’re still standing.  Tenacious!  I like you.”

Sure enough, the Uchiha boy was still standing—barely—on the other end of the crater.  He looked about ready to drop though.

Deidara rolled the notion around in his mouth.  He could definitely try to kill him, might even get somewhere with it now that Narumi had worn him down a few more paces.  Then again, Narumi might interrupt again, step in the way on purpose.  He wasn’t exactly sure he could explain this whole vendetta in a way that didn’t come off as unbelievably petty.

And misplaced, realistically this kid had the same beef with Itachi that Deidara had, only way worse.

“You didn’t have to threaten her,” Deidara said finally.  “Probably better you didn’t.  She likes fighting.”

“Gathered,” the boy’s voice was starting to sound like breathing hurt.  Deidara winced.

“You might wanna hold your breath in an explosion cloud, for the future,” he suggested.

“Implies you two won’t kill me first.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Narumi shrugged.  “not if I don’t gotta.  Were you trying to kill him, Deidara?”

“Yeah, actually,” Deidara confirmed.  “But, you’re gonna hit me with a ‘why’ and I’m not really sure I can convince you my reasoning is sound.”

“You’re doing that thing dad told you to stop doing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s really petty, hm.”

“I know.”

“And childish.”

“Mmhm.”

“And you probably wouldn’t have second degree burns and impaled elbows if you hadn’t done that.”

“Yeah.”

Narumi turned back to the Uchiha boy.  “Next time you see anyone with this general face vibe coming at you for shit you didn’t do, just run.  It’s not worth the burns.”

“Unfortunately, I need something from him.”

Narumi looked between Deidara and the boy a few times before asking, “What’d you do this time?”

“Nothing,” Deidara sighed, “It’s about his fucking brother, hm.”

“Is this brother the reason—”

“Narumi, if you’re gonna shame me over my mistakes, I’m going to stop giving you answers, apologize for wasting this kid’s time, and I’m taking you home.”

“What?  No!  It took me ages to shake Uncle Kitsuchi.”

“You shouldn’t even be out here!  Dad told you not to come after me!”

“Yeah and dad’s missing!  I was coming to tell you!”

Deidara winced.  He’d barely kept a straight face sealing Roshi, and three days of staring at his dying father had just made him numb to his own grief.  Narumi—no—their whole family didn’t even know he was dead.  If Ishimaru or Ginnan knew Narumi would’ve been told.  They didn’t keep secrets, that was the deal.

“I hate to interrupt.”

Tobi dropping the fake high-pitch made Deidara’s hair stand on end, and he spun about, one arm raised to shield Narumi.  His partner, always perfectly playing the utter buffoon, had dropped the act.

“But someone’s playing both sides when he shouldn’t.”

A low drone rang in Deidara’s ears, then a deep, deafening rumble that shook the ground.  The mines had blown, there was nothing else in the ground that could let off that much energy and yet—

Someone grabbed Deidara by the collar as the ground cracked and hissed.  Deidara managed to look Tobi in the eye one final time before heat and light overwhelmed his vision.

Those eyes.  Those goddamn eyes.  Staring back at him, through him, like he wasn’t even a person, just a thing.

Then black.

---

Kyouta stared down into the pit, peering through gaps in the rock to see if he could get a glimpse of a limb or a chunk of torso.  There was too much stone in the way, just to get a glimpse he’d need to move at least a foot of it.

“It’s quiet,” Kyouta remarked.  “Never thought I’d say that about a space my brother was in.”

“He can talk,” Shikamaru said, walking along the perimeter, checking the seals imbued into the dirt.  “The first time I came out here after sealing, he was…chanting.  I haven’t heard him speak much otherwise.”

“Chanting?”

“Repeating syllables, I didn’t recognize them.”

“Like norito?”

Shikamaru glanced at Kyouta and shrugged.  “Maybe?” he granted.  “I’ve never heard any norito like it, though.”

“A couple Jashinist prayers are based on Mikami norito,” Kyouta crouched over the pit.  “Hidan’s always been a creature of habit.  Even with Jashin, he prays like a priest, not a petitioner.”

Shikamaru halted next to Kyouta and crossed his arms.  “What do your parents think of all this?” he asked.

“They don’t,” Kyouta answered.  “Our parents died in the war, not long after I was born.”

Hidan was all he had left, really.  Jashinists had killed their uncle, Heizou, not long after Hidan joined the Akatsuki.  Perhaps they needed to put forth some punishment for their wayward immortal, just to be certain he would never abandon them again.
Kyouta doubted Hidan appreciated the act or even noticed.  He hadn’t been home in some time.

“I’m sorry,” Shikamaru said, his tone was flat, though.  He barely meant it.  Could Hidan hear it now?  The utter lack of remorse in his killer’s voice?

Kyouta tilted his head.  “You don’t need to be sorry for anything,” he said, standing.  “My brother owed a debt, you made sure it was paid.”

Shikamaru gave a nod, not even allowing himself to smile.  Kyouta unfolded and clapped him on one shoulder.

“Even if Hidan isn’t involved, I’ll stay to help,” Kyouta offered.  “It’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you,” Shikamaru nodded.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Kyouta smirked.

Could Hidan hear them?  Maybe.  But Hidan knew Kyouta better than this boy did.  Hopefully, he got the message.

---

Suigetsu still couldn’t fathom it.  Yeah, he was doing the math in his head, but it really wasn’t working.  Killing Manda, yeah that was one hell of a way to get out of dying—provided Sasuke had actually not-died, which was still up in the air.

As the great snake died, his jaw unhinged, and Suigetsu—still not fully sure Manda was dead—peered around into the gaping maw.

Sasuke was in there alright, along with a thin man desperately gathering breath and stumbling to his feet.  Suigetsu heaved a sigh of relief, then noticed Sasuke had something—no—someone in his arms.

“Please tell me she’s breathing,” the man begged.

“Yeah,” Sasuke uncurled, letting Suigetsu see the girl a bit better.  She looked like the thin man, an Iwagakure shinobi with blond hair and blue eyes, wolf-lean and sharp-featured.  Suigetsu flicked his gaze to the man, then tentatively inclined his head in question.  Sasuke nodded, but signaled to leave him be.

Akatsuki, but they weren’t bothering him yet.  Probably an engagement gone wrong, and probably that girl’s fault.  Suigetsu nodded to the man and moved to help the girl up.  Sasuke could get up on his own, right?

“Is he okay?” Karin’s shrill voice was a very unwelcome shock to Suigetsu’s system.  He was already processing a lot he did not need her fretting over someone who could take care of himself.

“He’s breathing?” Suigetsu offered, helping the girl stumble out of Manda’s mouth.

“I’m good,” she said after a few steps.  “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Suigetsu nodded, then turned to Sasuke.

He had not gotten up.  That meant he couldn’t get up, especially as he realized the Akatsuki member was leaning on Manda’s mouth, heavily.

“Karin, get him,” Suigetsu sighed, pointing to the Akatsuki member before going to help Sasuke.  “Right mess you got yourself into,” he muttered to Sasuke.  Sasuke grunted in response.

“I didn’t exactly expect her,” Sasuke nodded to the girl, who shifted from foot to foot beside Jugo, like she wanted to help.

“Is she with him or—”

“Is but isn’t, for now we’ll shelter them,” Sasuke replied.  “His partner turned on him.”

“I imagine because he was about to break rank,” Suigetsu whispered.  Then, with a forced smile, he called to the girl, “he’s heavier than he looks, wanna give me a hand?”

The girl jumped, then nodded rapidly and hurried over to Sasuke’s other side.  Suigetsu checked back with the Akatsuki member and Karin, and quickly turned his head back forwards.

Yep, Karin was glaring at them, figures.  This girl certainly wasn’t going to win any points in that department.  Not that she would want to, probably, Suigetsu wasn’t going to find out right this second, in any case.

Right now, Sasuke couldn’t even walk.  They needed to take care of that first.

Notes:

Some notes, so we're kinda in the clear here:

- Same rough details as The Contract in that Deidara and Hidan's family and sibling dynamics are roughly the same just pushed forwards three years in the timeline.
- Norito, for people unaware of Shinto priesthood systems, are traditional Shinto prayers specific to priests. They're spoken in the form of syllabic chants and no, I don't know any.
- Karin is the only time I am going to pull the "Canon Sasuke Crush Girl is jealous of New Love Interest" trope because she is the only one I can even slightly see acting that way at 16 years of age.
- I have no idea what happened with Obito, but he is alive.

Chapter 3

Ino parted with Izumo at the gate.  She’d only really volunteered to go out to make sure Shikamaru was alright.  He hid it well, but the sudden reminder of the months-ago fight had been very much unwelcome.  He practically froze at the sight of Kyouta, something Ino had never expected from her friend.

She didn’t blame him, though.  Kyouta had given her pause too.  Not because of anything Kyouta had done.  In fact, he’d been downright pleasant; polite, soft-spoken, almost too nice, considering the circumstances.  None of that mattered, though, not in the face of, well, his face.  Ino couldn’t deny it any more than Shikamaru could: Kyouta looked eerily like Hidan.

Not identical, Kyouta looked kinder and his features didn’t hold the same telltale furrows of a man accustomed to war.  It didn’t matter, though, his eyes were the same color, same shape, his jaw still that hard square, his lips still tended in that same wily smirk.

Ino sighed and stepped into her family’s shop.  Shikamaru looked pensive too, guarded.  Kyouta had calmed their nerves about more zealots like Hidan showing up, but that didn’t mean they were out of the woods.  Someone had taken issue with them, and they knew about Hidan.

Shikamaru would be up working at the problem well into the small hours of the morning.  More than likely he’d take a walk and end up at Asuma’s grave.  Perhaps he’d feel better if Ino put some fresh flowers at the grave.
Ino meandered over to the lilies and looked them over.  It was late fall, so half the flowers were their greenhouse blooms.  They never got quite as vibrant as the garden ones.

Maybe chrysanthemums then?  They’d suit the colder weather better, though they were a bit over-traditional than suited Asuma.  She should probably just stick to lilies.

Maybe, while she was here, she should get flowers for that Akatsuki’s grave too.  He wouldn’t appreciate the gesture, but he was also dead, so it’s not like he could object.  Even if he wasn’t necessarily a good person, that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve to sit in a neglected grave for the rest of his afterlife.

“Hey, Dad?” Ino called, towards the counter.  Inoichi was usually there at this time of day.

“Yes?” Inoichi called back.

“Do Takigakure funerals use different flowers?”

There was a rustle as Inoichi folded something—probably a newspaper—and heaved a deep sigh.

“Ino, leave him in peace,” he said softly.  “From what you recounted to me, I’m sure that old man would rather rest in quiet solitude.”

“I just thought…I don’t know.  Maybe he deserves a little kindness.  It didn’t seem like he’d gotten much in his life.”

Ino scuffed her shoe on the floor.  Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.

“If you’re so determined, Takigakure prefers yellow funeral flowers, but the type isn’t very different.”

Yellow instead of white, that seemed suitable.  A dozen white lilies and a dozen yellow chrysanthemums, the Akatsuki seemed like a more traditional sort anyway.

Though, Inoichi’s remark ate at her a little.  Maybe he would’ve preferred she not bother.  Perhaps, in Takigakure, an enemy’s mourning was a grave insult.  Ino stepped out onto the street and glanced down at the pale yellow flowers tucked under Asuma’s.

She was becoming less sure of this.

“Pardon?”

Ino jumped at the soft interruption, and glanced to the voice.  A tall, wiry young man stood just beside her, lips drawn into a thin line.  It was a wonder she hadn’t seen him.

“Oh!” Ino glanced to the display she was standing right in front of, “Sorry, am I in your way?”

“Oh, no I was just wondering, do you know if this shop sells white hellebores?”

“I think they—sorry, we—do,” Ino glanced inside towards the potted plants.  “They’re quite good as pest control.”

“My grandfather swore by them in our garden when I was little,” the man agreed.  “I meant cut, with yellow camellias.”

White hellebores and yellow camellias, an interesting combination.  Constancy and calumny were ever strange bedfellows but she supposed he didn’t know what the flowers meant.

“Oh!  I can see if my father can cut you a few to put with some camellias,” Ino offered.  “Is it for someone special?”

“My grandfather,” the young man answered, a profound sadness in his eyes.  “He passed recently and I don’t live very close.  I haven’t visited his grave yet.”

He definitely knew the meaning of those flowers.  It was a weird combination to give someone, let alone a grandparent.  Unless his grandfather liked camellias and hellebores, anyway.  Ino didn’t know many men who could tell her their favorite flower, much less one who could name two.

She studied him as she gathered the strange bouquet.  A wonder she hadn’t seen him, indeed.  Every feature rang strangely familiar from the way his face tended long to the cold green of his eyes to the dark blue bands tattooed to either forearm.  His dark hair came to his ears, curling up at the ends, but his long bangs framed his face in a familiar way.  At the same time, he was a perfect stranger.  Nothing in the mirror of his face reflected Ino’s memories.

“Are you visiting someone yourself?” the man asked as they stepped from the store and began their path down the street.

“Two people, actually,” Ino replied with a smile.  “My mentor, and a man I barely knew.”

“That’s very kind of you,” the man smiled faintly.

“Someone taught me, not too long ago, that kindness isn’t something you need to earn,” Ino shrugged, “and even if there’s a time and place for kindness, everyone deserves it.”

“Even your enemies?” the man asked.  “Forward thinking, many shinobi struggle with the notion that their opponents are as much people as they are.”

“I’ve struggled with it,” Ino admitted, a hand to her chest.  “A friend of mine…I think if he knew the kindness I was extending to this perfect stranger, he wouldn’t understand it.”

“You think he still sees this man as nothing more than an opponent?”

“A monster more like.  Not that I blame him…He was one of the two men that took our mentor from us.”

The man’s face softened.  “I’m sorry,” he said, “That must have been a difficult time.”

It had been.  Ino could feel tears welling in her eyes as she nodded.  She bit her lip, trying to think how much more she should say, how much more she could say before her grief came flooding back.

“But if I box my ears like he does, insist my mentor’s killers were nothing but monsters, I think I’d be doing my mentor a disservice.  He was killed by shinobi, and those men had families and friends, just like he did.”  Ino looked once more to the flowers tucked into her elbow.  “I wonder, every now and then, if this man’s loved ones even know he’s gone.”

“Maybe they do,” the man suggested.  “Maybe he…I don’t know, sent them letters like clockwork, and they noticed when he stopped.”

“And maybe they don’t know where he’s been buried,” Ino went on.

“Or if he even was,” the man agreed.  “It’s a kind thing you’re doing, a strong thing.  You do your mentor proud, in that respect.”

“I do my best,” Ino quickly moved to wipe the brimming tears from her eyes.  “So, did your grandfather also like camellias?”

“Oh, no, but he laid them on my father’s grave every Sunday when I was a boy,” the man said.

His father’s grave?  The man must have been raised by his grandfather.  This passing must have been more painful than he was letting on.

“I’m sorry,” Ino said reflexively.

“I barely remember him,” the man shook his head, “I don’t even have a name from him; he asked that my grandfather name me.”

“What did he pick, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ino said.

“Umaji,” the man answered.  “What about you?”

“Oh!  It’s Ino,” Ino answered.  “It’s a family name, all firstborn children have ‘ino’ somewhere in their name, like ‘inoshishi’.”

“Ino,” Umaji repeated, “pretty as the girl it’s given to.”

Ino flushed.  “Oh, well, I mean—” she stammered.  Umaji was kind of plain-looking, but the gentle look in his eyes made him almost glow giving that compliment.  “It’s not that pretty.  I have friends with prettier names.”

Much prettier names, Sakura’s didn’t translate as easily into such a horrid taunt.

“Do you have friends with so much history behind those pretty names though?” Umaji asked with a bit of a laugh, then came to a halt at the opening to the cemetery.

“Are you coming with?” Ino asked, stopping at the moon gate.  “Isn’t your grandfather buried here too?”

Umaji leaned on the gate next to her and flashed a smile that made Ino’s heart sink.

“I think you already know he isn’t.”

And there it was.

“I’m sorry,” Ino managed to choke out.

“You have nothing to apologize for.  Go, your mentor’s waiting.”

Ino gave a curt nod and stumbled her way to Asuma’s grave, her grip on the folded flowers tightening as she walked.  She knew it.  His face was too familiar, the calm rumble of his voice too close, she wasn’t just seeing ghosts.  But what could she do?  Umaji wasn’t a shinobi—not that she knew of—and he wasn’t presenting himself as an enemy.  Telling Shikamaru was out of the question, the look on his face when he saw Kyouta—she’d felt deeply unsafe leaving the two alone.

Maybe Umaji really was just here to see his grandfather’s grave.  Ino just needed to keep an open mind, but she wouldn’t leave him to wander the village alone.  She didn’t know him, and the only thing she did know was that he shared blood with one of Konoha’s enemies.

Ino stopped at Asuma’s grave and slowly knelt to set the lilies there.  For a moment, she sat, just appreciating the calm.  The growing chill of late autumn set goosebumps on her skin, but she didn’t mind it.  If anything, it brought her mind into sharp focus.  She had a job to do.  She rolled up to her feet and, with a parting bow, returned to Umaji.

“I take it you don’t know where he’s buried,” Ino said, fighting to keep her voice level.

“I’m afraid I barely found your flower shop, Miss Ino,” Umaji replied.

Ino nodded and started down the road again.  A pause, a beat, and she heard Umaji following.

The silence was maddening, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.  Did she interrogate him?  No, he’d just lie.  Or he’d tell the truth, perhaps.  It was hard to guess when she barely knew him.

“You know he liked those,” Umaji said after a moment, giving Ino a start.  “Spider mums,” he clarified.  “They were my grandmother’s favorite, so he told me.  We used to keep some cut ones by our household shrine.  That and a plate of daisho mochi, for my dad.”

“In yellow?” Ino guessed.

“Nah, red and white,” Umaji replied.  “Since yellow chrysanthemums can mean slighted love, he didn’t want to have any where he sat with her ghost.”

“You know flowers,” Ino observed.

“My grandfather taught me, and my little sister,” Umaji nodded.  “Do they not teach it much anymore?”

“Not to men,” Ino shrugged.

“Why go without one of the simplest means of imparting a message?” Umaji scoffed.

“Maybe it’s safer that not everyone knows how to send codes in a bouquet,” Ino reasoned, “otherwise every shinobi in this village would have something to say about your bundle of false accusations and steadfast loyalty.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t,” Umaji retorted.  “I saw your eyes narrow, but not a question came up.”

“The camellias I understand,” Ino admitted, reaching across to lift one of the blooms.  “I didn’t come to know him well, but he seemed the type that never strayed from the path he chose—or the people.”

“He wasn’t,” Umaji confirmed, “steadfast at best, stubborn at worst, but when my father died, he raised us like we were his own.  When the Akatsuki came to call, he left us so we could never be used against him, but he kept in touch.”

“Those letters,” Ino sighed.  “I’m sorry, and I’m doubly sorry if you run into my friend during your time here.  He’s already seeing ghosts; I’m sure he’ll take it badly.”

“Ghosts?” Umaji cracked a faint smile.

“Some jackasses trying to invoke your grandfather’s partner,” Ino shrugged.  “And of course, Yugakure had to send his brother to look into it.”

Umaji stifled a laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,” he managed to wheeze out.  “It just sounds like a bad joke.”

“What is life but a series of bad jokes one after the other?” Ino mused.

“Please,” Umaji said, “the bad jokes overlap.”

The walk fell into silence again and Ino found herself trying to get a read on Umaji from how he walked, what he looked at.  Shikamaru was great at it, but she found herself just staring.  He really was plain-faced, not in a bad way.  His face was just long and his nose had a straight bridge that made it look longer.  He looked like his grandfather, just younger and less jaded.  There was something—maybe hopeful?—to his expressions.

And his smile lit up his face.  Even the faint crescent lingering on his lips after their last exchange had something to it that made him…approachable.  Ino shouldn’t have felt safe around him, but she did.

“We’re here,” Ino stepped into the side plot beside the hospital.

It wasn’t much, a few sparse headstones, largely unadorned but at the very least kept clean.  This wasn’t a place of honor, after all.  Ino indicated one of the newer headstones, the shinobi’s name written out in katakana, as they didn’t know the kanji:

カクヅ

Umaji knelt in front of the gravestone, sitting for his own silent moment.  Then slowly, he smiled.

“It’s written with the characters for corner and capital,” he said after a moment, “then bell and foundation for his family name, Suzuhara Kakuzu.”

“Suzuhara,” Ino repeated, kneeling beside Umaji.  “I’ll have to ask Tsunade if we can change it.”

“If you get the chance,” Umaji granted.

Umaji’s arm shot out, and Ino flinched back.  The sound of metal striking stone brought her attention around to the cemetery gate.  Umaji’s hand—now darkened to almost black—had blocked an incoming kunai, thrown by one of the masked men now blocking the fastest way out.  Ino swallowed.  Had Umaji been a hair slower, where would that kunai have hit?

Then the men at the gate, three in total.  They wore Konoha ANBU masks, but she didn’t even recognize the masks, let alone the men wearing them.  More than that, there was something cold about them, like if she took off those masks, something deeply inhuman would be underneath.

“Jumped the gun a little there, I think,” Umaji remarked, unfolding from the ground and letting the flowers tucked in his arm fall.  “I take it you’re here for me.”

His tone had dropped like a cold blade.  That cool collection Kakuzu radiated fell perfectly on Umaji’s shoulders.  His shoulders squared, his gaze even, and yet one arm was still raised protectively before Ino.

“Just the head,” one of the men replied.

“And you were told no witnesses,” Umaji guessed.  “Your master’s getting bold, or maybe he’s just getting desperate.  I don’t blame him.”

Umaji’s free hand flicked through a few careful signs.

“It’s a little pathetic you can’t even manage to kill two kids.”

One of the men jolted forwards, tanto poised towards Umaji’s throat.  Umaji jerked his head up and back catching the man’s arm and forcing it up.  His hand swapped overhand and shoved the tanto out wide.

The arm guarding Ino came up like a shot but did nothing more than flick the man between the eyeholes of his mask.  The man staggered, as if shoved, then dropped to the ground in a heap.

Umaji took two steps back and swore under his breath as the other two men lurched forwards.  Ino stared at the heap on the ground and chewed her lip.  That one was still alive, she could feel his chakra fluctuating, those ANBU would’ve caught onto a genjutsu fast, and having seen his motions, Umaji was not a front-line fighter.  He’d lucked out with the first one’s mistake, the other two would not repeat it.

But they also weren’t looking at Ino.

“When I say, grab me and run,” Ino hissed.  Umaji’s head twitched, resisting the urge to turn to her.

“Why?”

Ino breathed slowly, concealing her focusing sign behind her back.  “Just trust me,” she insisted, “Grab me and run.  Don’t worry about them.”

“Please don’t be stupid on my account,” Umaji insisted.

“Not stupid if it’s right,” Ino replied, flicking her hands out to form a circle centered on one of the ANBU.

Shintenshin no Jutsu

Ino’s consciousness lurched, and she took a moment to adjust to the ANBU’s body—taller, leaner, stronger.  She flicked around the tanto in his hand and moved for his partner.  He caught on fast, darting back with each swing as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“Go!” she shouted through the ANBU’s voice.

Umaji didn’t waste a second figuring anything out.  He quickly gathered Ino’s body in his arms and scrambled over the nearest wall.

The partner recovered fast, beginning to block Ino’s swings over dodging.  One block pushed through with the hilt, flipping into a parry that nicked his mask.  Ino strafed back.  This guy definitely knew what she was doing, and would prioritize killing Ino over preserving his partner’s life.  She just needed to keep him busy for a few more seconds.

The ANBU advanced now, pushing Ino back and locking her into defense.  The body she was in was faster and stronger, but that didn’t mean much in when she didn’t have the same skill as him.

One block knocked the ANBU’s tanto wide, and it nicked the mask, slicing through the body’s ear.  Ino flinched and strafed back further.  She was out of time she needed to release.

Ino dropped the tanto, locked her fingers together, and—

A jolt shot through her as the ANBU’s tanto sank into her abdomen.  She choked on a gasp and tilted her fingers forwards.

Kai.

Notes:

Ino over here helping in the process of "Give Shikamaru an aneurysm" that the universe has decided to dump on his plate.

Also I totally locked in on this chapter and then was like "oh we're at 3k"