Knock On Wood Konoha

***

Prologue: :Shi o motarasu odayakana yuki 

a gentle falling snow that brings death

***

Victory is an illusion, the enemy hides in a dark corner waiting to attack.

Unknown

***

: :The Valley of the End: :

A thousand years before, this was a paradise.

Lush forests and clear water and red skies.

At night, the moon hung so low it felt close enough to reach up and touch.

The world was wild then. 

Untamed.

Unmastered.

Uncontrolled.

Vicious and capricious and only the strongest beasts survived.

Their battles shaped the lands and rent the sky.

Back then, there were no humans. No shinobi. 

No two-legged, two-armed beings convinced they were masters of the universe.

Yet.

It was eons before humans came.

Fragile creatures that could never quite figure out where they belonged in the natural order of things.

The strongest of them, with pale white eyes that glowed like the moon, who ate the god fruit and taught themselves to use chakra.

Generations later, their descendants would be called shinobi.

Even more generations later, the cumulation of all that breeding and training, and fate would result in Naruto and Sasuke.

Alone and bleeding to death in the Valley of the End.

***

Naruto had always figured that as long as you could get through it, you'd always be okay.

Sasuke had always figured that he'd die killing Itachi and avenging his clan, and that would be it for the legendary Uchiha. 

Somehow, whether it be the emotional blindness from trauma or the failing of age, neither of them had ever considered long-term plans.

As much as Naruto screamed about being Hokage, there had never been any defined set of steps to get there. It was a dream, kind of fuzzy around the edges, and the path there was blurry no matter how clear the final image.

Naruto could see the robes but not the ceremony where he put them on for the first time. Decisions but not the lessons that informed them. The light but not the shadows, Iruka-sensei had said once when he'd been smaller. He'd been speaking about an entirely different lesson but the words had stuck.

***

Sasuke's future had always been an abyss.

Black.

Unending.

It didn't exist beyond that final fight with Itachi. 

The bloody day he'd avenged his clan, his parents, his cousins, his blood….

He thought he'd achieve it before he reached twenty. If Kakashi could be an ANBU captain by sixteen, Sasuke could kill Itachi by twenty and be done with his oath.

His life.

All he'd needed to do was kill the greatest genius his clan had ever produced.

That Konoha had ever produced, though no one realized that yet.

He'd failed at that, too.

Failed to uphold clan honor.

To avenge his family.

To kill Naruto.

Sasuke was a failure.

He failed at everything he ever tried to do.

FAILURE.

He didn't deserve to live.

Now, his vision was fading at the edges. That blackness that had always been waiting patiently off in the distance was encroaching.

Soon, Sasuke would be at peace, and even his failures wouldn't matter.

The entirety of the Uchiha line would end with him.

There would be no more suffering.

Generations of greatness and achievement and sacrifice, and it would all end with him.

Undone by Sasuke's weak will and even weaker body.

***

Naruto had survived a world that hated him.

A village that left him on the streets to starve while her people spit on him and laughed.

The same people who claimed they loved his father and then abandoned his son.

Naruto had survived the worst his own people could throw at him, and he was damned if he was going to die now that the war was over and they finally had a chance at peace.

He wasn't going to let Sasuke either.

Sakura and Kakashi and Sai and all the others hadn't understood, but Naruto did. 

He'd only just started to be able to put words to it in the last couple of years, but he thinks he knew all along.

Deep down.

Had heard the call himself on his darkest days.

But there had always been something that held Naruto back from answering the void.

A voice that proved louder.

Iruka's, mostly. Iruka-sensei could outyell death itself most days, and the days he fell totally silent, eyes empty, were the only days Naruto was truly afraid.

But others had joined his as the years went on, and now Naruto figured he was one of the lucky ones. 

To have so many people who loved and wanted him in the world.

He'd been so caught up in the joy of being loved that he'd forgotten Sasuke.

Had left him to the wolves, really.

While Naruto had been basking in the light of the love of their village, Sasuke had been drowning in the darkness of those same people.

And now they were here, doing their level best to kill one another for a village that didn't give a damn which one of them made it back.

Sure, Sakura, Hinata, and the other Rookies might care, but most of the village didn't.

And the only reason they'd be torn was because they were still angry at Sasuke.

They'd get over it and welcome him back in a heartbeat if Naruto could actually drag him back.

Who would turn away that power?

And if they didn't, Naruto would just make them.

Same result.

But he can't drag the stubborn teme anywhere without a ridiculous amount of effort, and he's just so tired now.

The exhaustion has settled into his bones, all his energy seeping out of him with the bright red blood pooling around him.

Sasuke is pale, paler than normal, and Naruto's never seen anything more terrifying.

If the teme dies….

What's the point if Sasuke dies?

So much of who Naruto is, what he's done, and what he's achieved is wrapped up in Sasuke.

Who pushed him, who drove him, who lifted him when Naruto couldn't lift himself.

Who came back when it mattered most. 

Every single time.

Who never considered his father or the nine-tails before he considered Naruto.

How ironic was that? 

That the only person in Konohagakure, besides Iruka, that cared more about the vessel than the demon was Uchiha.

And now their blood mingled in the dirt of the valley a Senju and a Uchiha had carved out of the earth long before either of them had been born.

***

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go, dobe. There's nothing left."

"I'm left, teme! I'm still here."

"They're all dead."

"I'm not. I'm here, you asshole. Don't leave me alone."

"You're not alone anymore, Naruto. You don't need me. The village loves you."

"I don't want the village. I want you."

"Itachi is dead, father, mother, they're all gone. I'll just be alone if I stay."

"I'm here."

"The village killed them."

"Not all of it. We'll get justice and tell everyone the truth. Tsunade will hold the Council accountable."

"You're a fool, Uzumaki. You think she doesn't know?"

"Then….we'll hold her accountable too."

"She'll kill me before she lets me back in."

"I'll stop her."

"She'll kill you too, Naruto."

"Not if she can't find me."

"You look like the sun, dobe. No one can miss you."

"You'll see, teme. I'll get us back in. I'll tell the village the truth and get justice. I won't ever let it happen again. I'll make the world worth you, Sasuke."

"Whatever…what are you doing?… Dobe?- Naruto!"

***

Love is not a feeling of happiness. Love is a willingness to sacrifice.

Michael Novak

***

Twenty-five Years Ago

: :Hatake Clan Compound, Konohagakure: :

Red moons and violet flowers.

That seemed to be the theme of Sakumo's life.

A deep, bloody red above, a ripe, plum purple around, and the deep blue-back of the basalt stones at his feet.

The hunter's eye in the sky, flowers that symbolized unbearable pain and unending love, and the strength and stability that was the foundation of the world.

Shadows were growing in every corner, slowly spilling out and drowning everything until there was no color left.

Even as he kneeled, still and somber and silent, they encroached, and no amount of light could keep them at bay.

Even the gathering storm wouldn't sweep them away. The heavy summer air, wet and warm on his skin, barely slowed them down.

He had failed.

Konoha's White Fang. 

Pride and joy of what was left of the great and venerable Hatake from the great lightning storms that struck the deep mountains far to the north.

He'd put the mission aside for the lives of his teammates. Had failed to accomplish the objective the Hokage had given him.

The Sandaime had been quiet when he'd given his report, cold and clinical and ignoring the judgment of his peers as they watched.

Konoha's White Fang had gotten soft, given in to emotion.

Sacrificed the mission for his team, and he hadn't even managed to get all of them out. They'd left three Konoha shinobi dead in the forest with nothing to bring back for their families, and the rest would take months to recover. 

The cover for the mission had been blown in the process, and any attempt to send a second team would result in an even larger loss of life.

He had destroyed every chance for Konoha to end the war quickly, and now hundreds more would die.

No amount of reasoning and logic could take away the guilt.

Or the anger. 

Kakashi hadn't been able to look at him since he'd returned. His chakra twisted as tightly around him as his rage.

He'd stopped taking that silly mask off at home and barely stayed long enough to sleep.

So, so angry.

Sakumo had never seen anger like that before. Kakashi's mother had only ever been quietly happy. 

Tsume's anger was sharp and cool and quickly faded.

The Uchiha's burned hot and violent and bright, an inferno that raged out of control and fed itself until it had sucked all the oxygen out of the air and starved.

Kakashi's was something else.

Quiet and simmering, and Sakumo couldn't figure out how to speak to it.

Couldn't answer the questions Kakashi refused to ask. 

So convinced at six that he already had the answers. 

Even Minato's attempts to make him listen had fallen on deaf ears, and Kakashi worshiped his sensei.

Far more than he'd ever loved his father.

Shadows crept across the floor.

Thin tendrils reached for Sakumo despite the light from the dozen candles around the room.

A figure emerged. 

Small and twisted with a stock of bright silver hair. 

Kakashi. 

Still in his training uniform and sporting a few bruises and smears of dirt. 

Another fight with Obito.

At least Kakashi's teammate was on Sakumo's side.

***

The Hatake compound was quiet as Kakashi approached.

Had been quiet since before his birth, the clan long past its heyday generations ago. 

If they'd ever really had one.

Shinobi clans rarely lasted long enough to have a heyday, with few exceptions.

The shadows reached the vase of asters and chrysanthemums, violet and blue, and only found in two places on Earth.

Both carefully hidden by their keepers.

Kakashi is still too young to hear their story, according to Sakumo.

He stopped in front of his father and let Sakumo study his son, his only family, his legacy….

"How was training?"

Kakashi's silences grew longer every day.

"Did you learn anything new?"

He looked Sakumo in the eye less and less.

But now he did. 

Dark grey eyes that Sakumo used to see in the mirror when he could still stand to look in one.

Angry and red now. 

Seething and sharp.

You were right, Fu. There is a sickness in the village spreading through the shadows.

"Kakashi, please."

Instead, his son drew his tanto.

The edge glinting in the fading light.

This was it then.

There was no going back.

No crawling out of this hole.

No return to greatness. 

The sickness was too deep to survive carving it out.

"Kakashi, my son, someday….someday you are going to be very important to a very broken little boy whose act of kindness will save the world."

Kakashi's eyes narrowed, his lips twisted, his features sharp and elongated and inhuman as he held out the blade.

Death before dishonor. 

The next morning, Kakashi found his father right where he'd left him.

The family blade through his stomach.

***

Present Day

: :Hokage's Office, Konohagakure: :

It was called lock-in syndrome. 

Kakashi had looked it up during his first weeks back in the village.

Complete paralysis of the body, complete awareness of the mind. 

It struck Kakashi at the oddest times. Sometimes, he'd wake up unable to move or scream as the pain of his memories made its way through his body.

Sometimes, it would be the middle of the day, and he'd suddenly find that he couldn't move or speak as the memories came on with such force that he lost his breath.

His father was the most common.

The night of his death playing over and over in front of his eyes, but something was wrong…

That final night.

Kakashi had never remembered being there before.

Didn't remember handing his father the blade he'd found in his stomach the next morning.

He'd thought he'd stayed with Minato that night. Too ashamed to go home.

Had he just suppressed it? Out of shame or anger?

Had Minato-sensei sealed the memory away to protect him?

Would he have?

Minato-sensei had been outspoken in his support of Sakumo following that mission. Had he loved Kakashi enough to ignore his involvement?

Was he so weak that he hadn't been able to face his hand in his father's suicide?

Why remember it now?

His head throbbed, the pain enough to make it difficult to focus on anything.

His chakra was roiling, like water in a pot it was about to escape, and it took everything Kakashi had, thirty years of training, to keep it locked down enough to prevent anyone else from realizing what was happening.

The hands on the clock above Tsunade's head moved so slowly that another nightmare rolled over him with each tick.

He went from handing his father the blade to impaling him himself, the blood spilling over Kakashi's hands and splattering across his bare face.

The urge to claw at his own skin to get it off was so powerful that Kakashi would have permanently damaged himself if he had been able to move.

The Admin-nin briefing the Hokage and her advisors was still droning on and on, but Kakashi had stopped listening.

Icha Icha rested in his breast pocket. A talisman whose strength had long been exhausted.

The pinky of his left hand twitched.

The terrifying emptiness of relief swept through him.

It wouldn't be long now.

Slowly, his body would come back to him, and his mind would settle.

He could focus on the present. On what was in front of him. On the work he needed to do and the apologies he needed to make.

The failures he needed to correct.

The headache began to fade, the desperate thrum behind his eyes shrinking to something manageable.

The rest of the room followed. Kakashi could finally see the others scattered around the room.

The Council in the corner, pretending to be respectful and observe. 

Genma and Raido, and the Hokage's ANBU guards in the shadows.

Ibiki, representing the Intelligence Branch. Yui, representing the Medical Branch. Headmaster Fukoko representing the Academy. Yamanaka Santa, representing Third Division. Shun now represented Second Division and Hyuga Hiashi First Division. And at some point, they were going to have to figure out how to re-align those shinobi back into a single force and do away with the multiple divisions.

Wakahisa Shin represented the Legal Branch, though Kakashi had never needed to interact with him before outside of a few formal debriefings that had required legal review.

Taka, the ever-masked Commander of ANBU, and his two senior captains, Tora and Washi.

Tsunade had appointed Kakashi Jounin Commander, though she'd placed all ranks under him instead of just the Jounin. 

Shizune served as First Assistant to the Hokage and now spent most of her time running the Administration Branch. Three other tokubetsu jounin served as her second, third, and fourth assistants, and from what Kakashi had seen, they were barely keeping their heads above water trying to manage the Hokage's schedule and responsibilities.

His ring finger twitched.

Tsunade had been insisting she was fine any time someone asked, but Kakashi knew Jiraiya's death and war rested heavily on her shoulders. There was an aura of exhaustion around her now that never seemed to fade.

It hung over all of them, really.

The village itself was quiet and slow, the weight of the lost still being tallied. There was so much to repair, so many wounded to treat that Kakashi often found medi-nins asleep on their feet in the hospital.

The Academy couldn't resume classes because of damage to the grounds. There was nowhere to gather all the students safely. 

It was unlikely there'd be a graduating class this year, and maybe not next year, either. Which would set the village's shinobi forces back significantly in the wake of their losses in the war.

And yet, with all this still to be done, some had already turned their attention to picking apart every decision made leading up to the war and during. 

They didn't even have an accurate accounting of the dead and missing, but the papers were already accusing the Hokage and her forces of warmongering. The government of failing in its responsibilities. 

Kakashi had put his fist through a wall when they'd run an article about Obito on the front page, calling him the abomination that tried to destroy the world.

They knew nothing, but it didn't stop them from spouting off whatever they wanted, and Tsunade had been very clear that none of them should respond.

Their attention was fickle and would turn in time.

They had celebrated the end of the war, but no one was ready to actually let it go and move forward yet.

He imagined there was a name for that, too. Some psychological explanations about extreme emotional responses and trauma. 

Peace had seemed so unattainable for so long, a puzzle with so many pieces missing it was impossible to see the final picture, muted and grey because no one could even guess what it would actually look like.

The world had changed, and nothing would ever be the same again. Kakashi couldn't even fear the future because he had no idea what it looked like.

His middle finger twitched.

His father was twenty-five years dead now. Half as long as he'd been alive and more than four times as long as Kakashi had breathed on this earth.

He didn't even know what plans to start making.

If it was even worth it.

Something was wrong with him, something the medi-nins hadn't found, and Kakashi wasn't convinced he had much longer to live.

It was a miracle he'd made it this long, let alone through the war itself.

There was nothing left to grasp at. To build on.

Asuma was dead. 

Jiraiya was dead.

Something had happened to Gai, and he wouldn't tell Kakashi what.

Sakura had moved on.

Naruto was….alive, hopefully, but beyond Kakashi now.

And Sasuke was….well, there was still a good chance Kakashi was going to have to kill his former student the next time he saw him.

Another body to add to the tally.

Obito would never forgive him if he'd been alive to see it.

The war had ended the futures of so many far more deserving of hope than a murderer like Kakashi.

"Kakashi, my son, someday….someday you are going to be very important to a very broken little boy whose act of kindness will save the world."

What the hell did that even mean?

He's failed his father.

He'd failed Minato-sensei.

Obito and Rin.

He's failed Jiraiya and Naruto and Sasuke.

I failed everyone, Obitio.

***

All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces beyond repair.

Mitch Albom

***

Present Day

: :Umino Iruka's Apartment, Konohagakure: :

Iruka had chosen an apartment in the poorest part of the village for a number of reasons.

One, it was cheap.

Two, few wanted to visit.

Three, no one doubted his excuses concerning anything happening in the area.

Four, it wasn't monitored twenty-four-seven by village security.

Five, no one asked questions about late-night visitors or loud noises.

Six, it sat at the very edge of the village along the wall. 

Right next to the empty Uchiha Compound.

The building owner had stopped charging Iruka rent years ago when Iruka had started helping some of the families get their children into the Academy for free.

He'd let Iruka take over the neighboring apartment and take down a wall to make an extra bedroom and bathroom, and Iruka had wrapped the building wards and seals so tight not even the most skilled Root or ANBU could get through.

Iruka's apartment was the safest place in the Village Hidden in Leaves.

It had become a safe haven over the years. 

For Iruka and his friends.

His students.

A few missing-nin.

What was left of his family.

And yet, it was lonely.

So lonely when Iruka was the only one there.

Iruka was not meant for loneliness. For quiet.

Maybe, not even for peace.

It was unsettling. 

Terrifying. 

Rule number three, Iruka, there is no peace. Peace is an illusion to buy time. There will always be another fight. Do not rest.

Iruka hated that rule, no matter how accurate it was.

True peace was possible, but no one was ever willing to bear the cost of it.

Better to take the short-term solution, put things off for a few years, and pay the bare minimum. Just leave it for someone else to do all over again a few decades down the road. 

Survival was never in question. They would always survive. It was just a matter of how long it would take them to build back up after.

Humans were short-sighted, Iruka had learned. 

Quick to anger and quick to forget. 

The Memorial Stone in the heart of the village was just a symbol erected on hallow ground.

One whose true message had been forgotten not long after it had been erected. 

He took a ship of his tea and grimaced. Stone cold, but he couldn't summon the energy to get up and make a new pot.

Every year, it got hard to sit and grade. His body took longer and longer to recover from injury or illness.

Sometimes, all he had to do was climb out of bed, and he was exhausted.

War made old men out of young men and nightmares out of dreams, and there was still no word from Naruto and Sasuke.

Tsunade's frustration grew every day as the whispers of treason and death grew louder.

That her faith was so easily broken just gave Iruka another reason to hate her.

They were alive. Iruka's faith, inspired by slightly illegal chakra tracking, was unyielding in that. 

But whatever they had left to settle between them was taking more time than any of them had expected.

It wasn't even theirs to carry. Hatred and betrayals and broken hearts inherited from their fathers and mothers and nothing of their own.

And yet they had refused to be swayed from carrying it. 

Sasuke had set his path and closed his ears, refusing to listen to anyone but those ghosts.

Naruto had listened to Iruka's pleas, let him get it out, and then refused to change course anyway.

And Kakashi and Tsunade and all the rest had left them there to fight it out on their own.

That was not something Iruka would ever forgive.

They held some delusional belief that Naruto would return to the village just as he had left, take up his place as their heir like everything they believed and upheld hadn't made him fight to the death with the other person he needed to live.

They were fools if they thought Iruka would allow that.

Maybe it had been too long since they'd lost people. Maybe they'd forgotten what it felt like. Numbed from the pain by years of it.

They probably didn't remember who they'd been before their own losses, forgotten the devastation that came in its wake and changed the very foundation of who you were.

They thought Naruto would be brokenhearted but move on as they had.

They failed utterly in their understanding of him.

Naruto would never accept the loss and go on. 

Neither would Sasuke.

For whatever reason, both boys took after a clan they had no memory of. 

That was Iruka's fault. 

He'd never been able to bring himself to tell Sasuke about his family, and he'd never been able to get the words out around Naruto either.

Even Itachi had been unable to do so and had gone to his grave and left Iruka to carry it by himself.

This time…

When they came back, Iruka would find the words. 

Would explain the world that had created them and the people who had loved them long before they were ever born.

About the sacrifice that had been made that hot summer night and everything that had come after.

And before.

Wounded deer always leaped the highest, and there was more love to remember than hate.

He glanced out the window, the moon full through the rain, and realized he'd missed the budget meeting.

Oh well.

Iruka had never been good at containing his anger or his hate, and lately, just being in the same room with some people was too much.

It was easier to focus on his students and the tangled mess of devotion and adoration and confusion they had with one another.

Determined Sakura, unstoppable Naruto, driven Sasuke.

Steady Hinata, gregarious Kiba, serious Shino.

Brilliant Shikimaru, ambitious Ino, kind Choji.

Cheerful Lee, observant Tenten….broken-hearted Neji.

And now headstrong Konohamaru, easy-going Udon, free-spirited Moegi, and strict Hanabi.

And all the others that had graced his classrooms over the years.

It was odd to see people long dead in his students.

Well, perhaps not. Maybe that was just the way of life, to constantly search out those you had lost in those who remained.

It was so easy to see Mikoto in Sakura. The doing mother and iron-hearted shinobi who'd held her family together through sheer willpower.

To see Fugaku in Naruto. The one who had always been quick to cry over any unnecessary death despite the face he showed the world.

To see an odd combination of Itachi and Obito in Sasuke. Hope and hatred so tangled together it was impossible to separate them.

Tsunade had yet to issue a ruling on Sasuke despite calls for accountability, and Iruka didn't hold out much hope. 

It was only a matter of time before Konohagakure turned on her heroes, the next step in the false peace following the war.

Heroes only ever survived the fight, never the quiet.

And the Council would never let any Uchiha go free.

He hadn't been able to teach Naruto and Sasuke everything he'd planned, hadn't been able to abate their suffering at all, really.

Still so young, but they'd already crossed that line that many considered adulthood the first time they'd taken another's life. Before they'd ever even…well, he couldn't use his usual measurement of before their first kiss because he'd been there for both Naruto's and Sasuke's, and it still rated as one of the funniest moments of his life. 

But there was still so much more they didn't understand, so many experiences they hadn't had yet.

Iruka had met Shinobi twice his age that didn't understand either. 

That was the problem with child soldiers.

The founding of Konohagakure was supposed to stop that.

Then Iruka had taken his first life long before his first kiss, and that hope had withered away into nothing, and now he was depressed and tired, and he still had stacks of papers to grade tonight.

Why did he assign homework when the school wasn't even open again?

A sudden gust of wind and leaves scattered the papers as smoke filled the room.

Well, at least there would be no more grading tonight.

"Naruto, what have I told you about teleporting into my living room?"

Spiky blond hair and a sheepish smile, and a little bit of that weight and worry disappeared from Iruka's shoulders.

"Uh, not to?"

And then a little came back.

His orange jumpsuit was in tatters, covered in dirt and blood, and god knew what else. Almost as tall as Iruka now, and looking at him was almost like looking directly at the sun.

"Naruto, why is Sasuke unconscious?"

Because that was the only way the blond would ever have gotten his teammate over his shoulder like that.

"Because he's a stubborn asshole, Iruka-sensei, and he's hurt."

Wide, liquid eyes that had always gotten him ramen five days a week and peeks at forbidden scrolls and books.

Like he'd ever really needed to bother, Iruka mused, but he couldn't make it that easy because then he'd never have a leg to stand on.

"He helped me, Iruka-sensei. We wouldn't have won without him. He deserves to be here!"

They wouldn't have won without you either, Iruka thought, but even that might not be enough to protect you.

"He agreed to come back."

"Did he?"

"Yeah, he wants to come home."

You little liar, Iruka fought down a smile. 

Sasuke had probably said the exact opposite, and Naruto had knocked him unconscious in response.

Iruka could practically see the flames of righteousness coming off Naruto as the boy launched into a speech about sacrifice and friendship and the stupid teme needed to listen more and fight less and Iruka had a fleeting moment of concern as Naruto waved Sasuke around a bit more than was probably safe. 

"He's going to stay with me, Iruka-sensei. He promised! We'll figure out what to do, and Sasuke will be okay."

But would the village?

Naruto had once spoken that way about the village, but that had faded over the years, and the village had been replaced by Sasuke.

He doubted Naruto even realized it.

But then, it had always been just Sasuke for Naruto and vice versa, and neither boy had figured it out yet.

Not yet, anyway.

It was enough to make Iruka laugh. 

A decade later, and that bastard had been right all along.

Naruto looked a little concerned. Iruka probably looked a little mad, sitting there laughing about something only he remembered.

"Put him in my bed for now. I don't have the guest room ready."

Like Iruka would ever not help the brat, and Naruto knew it. He would always come to Iruka first. 

Naruto's beaming smile lit up the room, "Thanks, Iruka-sensei." 

And he bounded down the hall.

Iruka winced as Sasuke's head bounced off the wall before disappearing into the bedroom. 

Sasuke might have more injuries from the trip than from their fight.

Where did I put the first aid kit?

He glanced out the window as he stood. The moon still bright and unblinking in the sky. Sheets of rain still falling, washing away everything that came before.

Iruka grinned.

There was going to be a fight, of course. A great one, but this time, it was going to be a good one, too. 

For something real and important with a beating heart and a warm touch.

Not some improbable dream that required undoing the world. 

For a person this time, that made the world a little brighter.

"Oi, Naruto, you better have taken off his dirty clothes before you put him on bed!"

"….Opps."

***

Present Day

: :Hokage's Tower, Konohagakure: :

Tsunade kept a watchful eye on her shinobi as they dispersed for the night. Some home to rest. Some headed to duty stations. Some out to drink away the headache from this meeting, no doubt.

The world seemed slow, trapped in molasses, as they tried to move forward. Patience was thin, and paranoia was high. Kakashi was distracted. Gai was quiet. Kurenai had resigned. Many of the jounin who'd risen to important positions were dead or beyond exhausted, and she'd had more than one request to step down. 

She couldn't afford to accept any. Had pushed more than a few to take new genin teams before they ended up with too few shinobi to even defend the village.

And even then, there had been outright refusals many of them would never have dreamed of making before the war.

It was a complicated situation, made all the more difficult by the lack of news from the valley.

It seemed no one would be able to move on until they knew the outcome between Naruto and Sasuke.

Though the Uchiha had aided them in the end, even playing a pivotal role, his refusal to return to the village had stung many. 

It wasn't so long ago that he'd left with plans to destroy them, and Tsunade's trust, once broken, rarely returned.

Naruto's staunch refusal to abandon his friendship with the last Uchiha was further complicating his already complicated reputation in the village. They worshipped their savior and feared his power. Young and tested on the battlefield but untried in the war that was village politics. He was an unknown force, so far uncontrollable and unpredictable.

They thought he was dangerous.

He needed more time to learn, Tsunade thought. To tamper idealism with realism. Another decade, and he would be ready to lead. The next of a generation in a place that had started with her grandfather and would follow their lineage to the end.

But he needed to return soon. Before people forgot what he had done for them.

Before the Council's whispers took root.

Sakura refused to talk about them and rarely spent time in the Tower anymore. 

Tsunade wasn't sure when or how, but something had damaged Sakura's faith in her and her office.

Kakashi had refused to speak about his students. He'd lost faith in his own judgment where they were concerned, and Tsunade couldn't blame him.

There was a reason she'd never taken a genin team.

Not for the first time, she wished Jiraiya was still alive. He didn't always have the right answer, but he always had a way forward. Hope and a way of looking at things that helped to fight off the darkness. 

And he'd had absolute faith in Naruto.

But he wasn't here.

One of the many she'd never see again.

The unbridled light that Tsunade had been convinced was never going to fade had been snuffed out just like all the others.

She couldn't help but be angry at those responsible, at Jiraiya himself, irrational as it was, for letting it happen.

Stupid prophecy.

Everyone was so tired. Recovery would take years, maybe decades. Tsunade wanted that to be her legacy. Not the war but the rebuilding afterward. Her grandfather had built Konohagakure, and now she was healing it.

She would complete his dream, but she had to get everyone on the same page first, and that was a struggle that made the war look like children in a sandbox.

The Council was making moves to recover its power amid rumors that Root was still operating.

The Daimyo was getting old, and she had no idea which son would be taking his place.

There were those within the shinobi population who wanted advancement and power, as always.

ANBU's commander was making changes, with and without her approval. 

There was Iruka. Adored by his students and co-workers and most of the village, it seemed. Who ran the mission desk with an iron fist.

Who argued with her jounin and her own orders whenever he felt like it.

If the stories were to be believed, the Sandaime had loved him. Asuma had seen him as a younger brother, and he was still incredibly close to his widow. 

Naruto's most precious person, according to both Kakashi and Jiraiya. Tsunade was willing to give him ground just for that, but every time she found herself face to face with him, she found herself being judged and found wanting against a standard she didn't know.

She'd earned her place. Had sacrificed more for this village than most would ever know.

But Umino showed no interest in learning about her. Instead, he kept everything painfully professional to the point of open disdain, and she wasn't the only one he did it to. 

He and Kakashi couldn't be in a room together. She'd read reports of his fights with Hyuga Hiashi. He had frequent meetings with all the clan heads, and Tsunade couldn't figure out what it was about him that she was missing.

Why had Sandaime thought so highly of a temperamental brat who couldn't keep his emotions under control long enough to become anything more than a middling Chūnin?

Why was he always so angry?

Twin flashes of chakra made her sigh. A stab of pain behind her eyes.

"Lord Hokage, a moment of your time."

If Tsunade was brutally honest and very drunk, she'd say out loud that she didn't think much of her teacher's former teammates. Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu were meddling old shinobi who refused to change with the times. Everyone besides them was young and foolish and required their guidance, and more than once, Tsunade had fought down the urge to tell them both off.

While things had looked to be improving before the war, that goodwill was gone now. Kakashi and several others suspected they were behind the surviving Root ANBU faction, though no one had enough proof to bring charges.

"We wish to speak about the Hanta."

"Konoha doesn't have hunter-nin." Hadn't for years. The last time Tsunade had even heard a whisper had been from Sandaime, years before she'd left the village.

"You are incorrect, Lord Hokage."

Tsunade fought down a sneer. "You think there is a faction of my shinobi I'm not aware of?"

They weren't the only ones who could make insinuations, let them wonder what she knew.

"They abandoned their duties years ago, before your return. Now they must be held accountable." Koharu always managed to make everything that came out of her mouth sound life-altering. Even when she was just trying to ruin someone's career for disagreeing with her.

"The duties of the Hanta are clear. They are our first line of defense. It is their duty to prevent such enemies as Uchiha Obito and Uchiha Itachi. To prevent war." Homura's cold voice was slow, careful, like he didn't think Tsunade would be able to keep up if he spoke any faster. "They are expected to represent the ideal of a Konoha Shinobi."

"Your point?" She was too tired to be polite, and her head was pounding. She didn't like being lectured like an errant child, and the idea of any one group of shinobi being able to prevent the war was ridiculous.

"Our point, Lord Hokage," oh, that sounded like an insult, "is that they have failed and must be punished. As an example to the village that we have not gone soft following the war."

"No one thinks we've gone soft."

"Perhaps they are unwilling to tell you the truth due to your position."

"Or perhaps they're just telling you what you want to hear. You can be an intimidating woman, Lord Hokage."

Intimidating and unwilling to hear the truth, apparently. It was amazing how Tsunade could never get a single thing right.

But why bring this up now? There had been points in the last few years when it would have resulted in an immediate execution for anyone even suspected of charges like these.

There must be something specific the Council wanted. 

Or someone.

Many Konoha shinobi had broken with tradition in the wake of the war, challenging long-accepted beliefs and practices. It didn't make them any less loyal.

If anything, there was something to be said for those who loved the village enough to risk ostracization trying to make it better.

Still, Konoha had had Hanta in the past. 

Where were they now?

"I'll take it under consideration."

"I would hope the Hokage of Konohagakure would do more than that." Koharu purred, "Dereliction of duty is still punishable by death."

"You haven't presented any evidence of that claim."

They both squared up to argue, and Tsunade saw what few peaceful moments she managed to snatch fading away and held up a hand to stop them. "I will assign someone to investigate. If something worthwhile is found, we will proceed from there. Any tribunal, if it comes to that, will be held in accordance with the laws of Konohagakure and the Land of Fire."

She had a long drink after they'd finally left. Let the alcohol fight off the chill and the pain.

It was nearly midnight, and she still had hours of work. Stacks of paperwork that never seemed to shrink.

For a group so obsessed with secrets, they certainly liked to write things down.

Shizune was barely surviving her own workload, and her other assistants weren't nearly as capable.

Paperwork meant paper cuts and a headache, and she just wasn't in the mood.

"Tell Taka I want to talk to him."

She only had time for one more drink before the ANBU commander appeared, and the rest of her guards quietly slipped out.

He stood like Kakashi, so at ease he almost looked lazy. Tall and lanky, she had no idea the tone of his skin or the color of his eyes. Couldn't tell if he smiled like he had a secret or bright like the sun. His chakra pulsed in strong, steady beats no matter what he was doing, something she'd never felt before. Most shinobi's chakra was a constant flow, like a steady stream of water that expanded or shrank depending on the level of usage. 

Taka's was incredibly unique, but he remained tight-lipped about why or what caused it. She'd almost sent him to the hospital the first time she'd met him until several others had confirmed that his chakra was always like that.

He was just as unwilling to take his mask off in her presence, and Tsunade had become the first Hokage in Konohagakure history not to know the identity of her own ANBU commander. The Council had yet to drop the subject, which just made Tsunade dig her heels in more. Taka had an exemplary record. Even the Council couldn't question his loyalty to the village. 

Just his loyalty to them, she mused. 

She did enjoy the ridiculous theories circling about why he never took off his mask. Birth defects to plastic surgery gone wrong to elephant ears.

Acid burns from a frog. 

Jiraiya had always liked that one.

"Thank you for coming, Taka."

The barest hint of a nod was all she got. He only spoke when he had something to say, and while it had bothered her at first, now, after years of dealing with whining lords and politicians, Tsunade greatly appreciated it. 

"Have you heard of the Hanta?"

Silencing wards slipped over the office, much more powerful than what rested there daily.

"Why?"

"It was brought to my attention that they have not been fulfilling their duties."

He didn't respond, but Tsunade thought she could feel a pulse of curiosity in his chakra.

"I felt somewhat foolish when it came up, as I didn't even know Konoha had hunter nin."

He turned to the window, looking out over the village. "May I ask the tone of the conversation?"

Odd, Tsunade thought. "Decidedly unpleased."

"The Council."

If she'd been younger and just a bit more out of control, he'd have noticed her surprise. "Are they that vocal in their dislike?"

"Konoha's hunters and her Council have never been on the same side."

The same side of what? Tsunade wondered. "I'd like to speak with them. The Council wants an investigation and charges, but I won't put our shinobi through something like that without great reason."

His mask gleamed in the moonlight as he turned to her.

"Konoha no longer has Hunter Nin."

"They died out?"

He was silent for a longer stretch, wrestling with something.

"You are the granddaughter of the First Hokage."

"Yes."

"Last of the Senju. Enemy of the Uchiha."

"What?" There wasn't much left that could honestly shock Tsunade.

"You are an enemy of the Uchiha, are you not?"

"I am an enemy of enemies of this village."

"You are a Senju. A Hokage."

"And that makes me their enemy?"

"They no longer exist. You do."

"What kind of logic is that? The Uchiha made their choices and paid for them."

"Did they?"

A chill ran through her. 

Dangerous ground, and every survival instinct she had went off.

The history of the Uchiha was such a large part of the village's history that there was no way to protect it if….

Sakura had made comments. 

So had the rest of the Rookie 11. 

Naruto….

Naruto's loyalty to Sasuke was unquestionable, as loud and obvious as the boy himself in his dedication and desperation to bring the wanderer back to the village. 

He sang Itachi's praises without fear.

Sasuke had been searching for the truth about his family. 

Had there actually been something to find?

"It must have been a great love," Taka mused. "For a clan to die for a village that hated them."

"They didn't die. They were executed."

"Either way, they're dead, aren't they? Their survivors punished every day."

That was….

Hiruzen would never have allowed something like that. 

Tsunade would never allow something like that.

"What does that have to do with the Hanta?"

"Do you want the truth?"

"Of course."

The speed of her answer must have convinced him of something because he turned back to the window.

"Certain actions taken by leadership in the village caused a loss of faith. The Hanta resigned their posts as a result."

Tsunade stared at him, frozen in a quagmire of disbelief and horror.

A loss of faith by some of the village's most loyal shinobi…because they wouldn't have been Hanta if they hadn't been.

"What would cause something like that?" 

Taka fell silent.

"What did they do, Commander?"

"What would it take," he mused instead of answering, "To break your faith?"

And really, that was the answer itself…wasn't it?

***

Unless one lives and loves in the trenches, it is difficult to remember that the war against dehumanization is ceaseless.

Audre Lorde

***

~tbc~