Naruto: Dreaming of Sunshine

"Nice try," he said. "But there's a lot for you to work on."

"Thank you, Tonbo-sensei," I said, gasping for air. It hadn't been the most intense spar I'd ever had, but it hadn't been slow either. Taijutsu was high intensity at the best of times let alone when you were not entirely certain of what you were doing or where your opponent was.

After he left, I dragged myself back to the tower to find out what I was doing for the Intel Division. The mission desk roster sent me up a couple of floors, where I had to wait for someone to come and get me.

"Shikako Nara, right?" A Special Jounin with dark sunglasses said, ambling out shortly after I arrived. "Aoba Yamashiro. I'll be completing your induction."

"Induction?" I asked, as politely as I could. He walked me inside, to an office that had – surprise, surprise – a whole pile of paperwork waiting for us.

He hummed, moving behind the desk. "There's a lot of paperwork and procedures you need to be filled in on before you can start working on anything. Security clearances, door keys, all that kind of stuff."

I nodded, sinking into the visitors chair. "Makes sense."

"Hokage-sama said you were training with the Sensory Squad at the moment," he said briskly. "I'll roster you on for the afternoon shift for the first couple of weeks, then. It's a little quieter, so it's a good place to start."

Konoha tower was a twenty four hour operation, so the day was broken up into three eight hour shifts. Eight to four, four to midnight, and midnight to eight. Day, afternoon and night.

"Sounds good," I said. It would mean a long day for me, but that was already going to be happening while I was trying to juggle both roles.

He scribbled something down. "Okay, the next thing is; You've been assigned to the Cryptology Team."

I blinked. "The Cryptology Team?" I echoed. That… wasn't what I expected. Tsunade had said 'learn to do it properly' when she'd assigned me here which I hadn't taken to mean codes. And while I was smart, I didn't actually have any particular training in codes or code-breaking.

"Everyone is in cryptology," Aoba said, "especially when they aren't."

"Okay," I said slowly. It didn't quite parse, but I got the idea. Layers within layers. Underneath the underneath. Oh, this was going to be real fun, wasn't it?

I was given keys and access codes, but not one of the spiffy Intel uniforms. They were apparently for permanent staff only and didn't come in size 'tiny'.

Then we went for a tour of the facilities – which areas I could access, which I couldn't, where the lines of security access were drawn and which ones I had and did not have, who worked in which areas and offices and which faces and names I would need to know… There were a lot of things to learn, and quickly.

"So this is the Konoha Aviary," Aoba said, after we'd trekked up a long spiral stair case to a circular building built around a tree. "It's a pretty important location. You'll be running messages to and from here a fair bit, I think."

We ducked in to say hello to the two ninja on duty.

"You might be posted here for a few weeks to learn how to handle the birds," Aoba said. "Er, you know, just in case."

Just in case I needed to send messages without having to go through official channels? Just in case I received messages not through official channels? Just in case I was in the field when one found me? Just in case they didn't have enough people?

There were a lot of potential 'just in case's.

"And our last stop," he said. "The Konoha Cryptanalysis Team." The office building he led me into was almost like a library. The walls were lined with shelves and books.

He introduced me to the head of Cryptology, Mitoku, who was a friendly middle aged man who didn't seem too perturbed at having random ninja shoved into his division. "Shiho can get you started," he told me. "There'll be a free desk around somewhere. Maybe down the back?"

Shiho turned out to be a pale blonde teen wearing a pair of crazy spiral glasses. She seemed just on the edge of frazzled and overworked, which was a feeling I could sympathize with.

"Hi, yes," she said, rattling on and winding through the stacks of books to a work area with empty tables. "You should have a desk. This one used to be Amaya's but she left to go and have kids so no one is using it now. Anyway, it's got a lockable drawer which you should put any secure information you're working on into. Also pens. Pens always go missing around here. You should protect them."

The desk was a basic plywood thing and the drawer didn't look too flash either. It had a simple lockbox key and I was pretty sure it wouldn't have even taken me a second to pick. But there was a strip of seals stuck to the inside lip of the drawer that was much more interesting. I recognized a few at first glance and could tell that that initial 'easy to pick' assumption would probably only result in tears and pain.

She pulled me along. "So this shelf is our CIRS paperwork-"

"Cirs?" I asked, recognizing that it was a descriptor but having no idea what it actually meant.

She looked distressed, shifting her glasses. "Classified Information Reporting System," she rattled off. "There are processes that we have to follow when we're retrieving information, depending on what security clearance it is and who coded it and who it's for..."

"Don't worry," Aoba cut in. "I'll cover all of that. You just go on with the tour."

Ah, paperwork systems. That, I could handle. I'd worked with nightmare systems before in science laboratories. Somehow that experience had not been so relevant to my ninja career before.

"Well," she said, taking down one of the folders and dropping it in my arms. "You'll need to read the overview. And maybe the one for the IICBRS?" She dropped another folder on top of the first. "Anyway, so over here is the codebook archive. These are only the low clearance ones, so mostly they're inactive. But you should probably read this, because it covers Konoha's most commonly used ones." She plucked a book off the shelves, which was intimidatingly large. "Sometimes we get to decode historical messages, which is always quite fun! Or people use them in a hurry when they can't remember anything else."

She dragged me along the shelves. They all looked the same to me, at this point.

"And over here is the ciphers! Substitutions over here, transpositions over there." She shifted her glasses again. "Of course, all these have been decrypted, so if we see them in a message we can break it almost instantly!"

I looked at the shelves. They towered. "Right," I said, almost overwhelmed.

Shiho piled a few more books into my arms. "These are just basic introductions," she said, blithely. "They'll help you get started!"

I put the pile of books back on my desk. Aoba looked amused.

"Okay," I said. "Where do we start? CIRS?"

"A few steps further back," he said. "Welcome to the exciting world of tower paperwork. If you thought mission reports were bad, you're in for a nasty surprise."

Several hours later, I was about seventy percent certain that Aoba was taking joy in introducing the system in the most confusing ways possible.

I was not going to let him win.

You cannot be this complicated and still work, I thought at it. No one would ever be able to track anything. Though maybe that was the point. Maybe the labyrinth twists of paperwork were only there to distract those unfamiliar with them – a line of defence to keep secret information secret.

Or maybe I had just been reading the same sentence over and over again too many times.

Shiho knocked politely on my desk, clearly in lieu of having a door to introduce herself on. "We're all going to dinner now," she said. "There's a little kitchen next door where we all eat."

My eyes were drawn to the clock. Eight pm. It felt like it, and it didn't, at the same time.

Aoba stretched. "I'm going to go pick something up," he said. "Be back here in half an hour."

I stood, then realized I hadn't come prepared. "Ah, I didn't bring anything with me," I said, chagrined. I hadn't expected to spend a shift here immediately.

Shiho touched my shoulder. "It's okay!" she said. "I keep extra stuff here, just in case it gets too busy. You can have some."

"Thank you," I said, genuinely touched. "That's very kind."

She showed me where the small kitchen was, which was homey and nicely appointed. It had a fridge, microwave and toaster, hot water zip and two coffee makers. There was a table crammed in, with an excess of chairs scattered around it. There were already a couple of people sitting down eating, one flicking through a book one handed.

I felt awkward and out of place, but Shiho chattered on. I tried gamely to keep up once she started actually talking about her work, but it flew over my head and the most I could do was keep prompting with questions.

"Have you done your O-R hours this week Shiho?" One of the other ninja at the kitchen table asked. It had the tone of both a frequently asked question, and a reprimand.

Shiho wilted, a little. "But I've been so busy," she said, and it was nearly a whine.

"O-R?" I asked, again missing the meaning behind the acronym. I foresaw this happening a lot in the next few weeks.

"Operational Readiness," Shiho translated gloomily. "We have to do four hours of physical training a week. But it's not like I'm ever going to go on missions, so I don't see why I have to do it. Do you know how much I can get done in four hours?"

"You still have to do it," her colleague replied. "Besides, it means you get paid for leaving the office. Can't beat that, right?"

"I could help?" I offered, hesitantly. "If you wanted?" She was helping me adjust to this place, after all, it was only fair to offer the same in return. And anyway, I was a field ninja. Physical training I could do.

"It would be nice to train with someone again," she said, a little wistfully. It wasn't agreement, but it was close.

The second half of my shift was much quieter. Apparently, a fair portion of the people who had been here hadn't been on afternoon shift – they'd been dayshift people doing overtime. And that… that said more to me about how busy Konoha was than any number of field missions had.

Maybe more experienced ninja could have said, from the number of missions we were doing, that Konoha was short-staffed and overworked. But it was the only way I'd known missions to be. But the implications with shifts was that you did your time and that was it – not that you did your time and then four hours of overtime just to keep things ticking along.

It was easy to forget that Konoha was in the process of recovering. That there was a looming threat of war on the border and that tied up resources, too.

"Alright," Aoba yawned when the clocked ticked over to midnight. "That'll do for now. We'll get into the rest of it tomorrow."

Rest of it. Well.

"I look forward to it," I said unenthusiastically.

He cracked a smile.

.

.

That was the pattern my next few days fell into; training with Tonbo-sensei during the day, which lasted four or five hours depending on how much time he had, a few hours to myself, then afternoon shift spent following Aoba-senpai around while he explained the process and systems and paperwork. There was a lot of paperwork.

I did a lot of fetching of coffee, so at least I was being useful.

I left the tower at midnight, with the lucky few that weren't pulling overtime, and was surprised to find Kakashi-sensei lounging casually against a lamppost reading his Icha Icha.

"Oh, Shikako," he said with exaggerated surprise. "What are you doing here?"

I rolled my eyes. Like he just happened to be here as I was leaving. I strolled forward and tucked myself under his arm. I hadn't seen him since the disaster of a dinner party, and though part of that was because I was busy, I half suspected there were more elements to it than that.

But it was also midnight and I wanted to go home. I tugged him forward, so he was walking with me. He came, obligingly.

"Hi, sensei," I said, because it had been a long day and I wasn't really prepared to play games. "What's up?"

He hummed and made non-committal noises for a bit, then said, "team training."

I leant into him. "I'm training with the Sensory Squad," I said, because he obviously knew I was working at the tower. "Eight am onwards. I don't have time."

He was silent. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he muttered to himself. Then, louder, "tomorrow. Training fields. Five am."

My feet stalled. "Five am?"

He drew away and gave me an eye smile. "Don't be late," he admonished, and vanished.

I was left standing in the middle of the street with a perplexed expression.

But five am the next morning saw me out at our training fields, cradling a thermos of coffee, and thinking dire threats to sensei if he was pulling something funny. But Sasuke was there, looking just as annoyed, so Kakashi-sensei had obviously got to him too.

Mutely, I offered him my coffee.

He took it. "You have no idea either, do you?"

I shrugged. Not a clue.

Awkwardly, he pulled a small box out of his pockets and threw it at me. "Here," he said, looking away. "He said it was tradition."

I caught it, confused. "What's tradition?"

"Presents," Sasuke clarified. "For promotions." He took a drink of my coffee, not wanting to say anything else.

I blinked, slowly. "Oh," I said. "I didn't get you anything." I should have got Sasuke something, shouldn't I? That sounded like a thing I should have done.

"We all made Chunin; that doesn't even count," he said. "Your other promotion."

Oh, I thought sheepishly, and opened the box. There was a set of earrings inside, silver hoops with a dangling green stone. They were… nice.

Sasuke was definitely avoiding looking at me now.

Tradition. I cleared my throat. "Thanks. You know, uh, it's our clan tradition. The earrings, I mean. The first set is handed down from your parents, and the second gets given to you by your sensei. But there's no third set." That came out wrong. It sounded ungrateful. I didn't mean it like that. "I mean, I didn't expect more. It's… it's right. Thank you."

I fumbled the words and didn't look up to meet his eye. Right. Way to accept a present, Shikako. I slipped them out of the box, unhooking the set of hoops I was wearing and exchanging them.

I weighed them carefully in my hand, an idea forming. It was a little silly, but… "Uh, these are heirlooms," I said. "Not important ones, or anything; they don't really mean anything. But they belonged to my uncle when he was a Genin. And probably to someone else before that I guess. I'm supposed to pass them on…" I shrugged, awkwardly. It wasn't like I ever planned to have kids. There'd be no one to pass them on to, and team was family, right? "Uh, so really. If you want…"

I pressed them into his hand.

"You don't have to wear them or anything," I rushed on, voice getting smaller and smaller.

There was a moment of dizzying silence.

Sasuke coughed. "Uh. Right. Thanks?" He regarded the hoops in his hand with bemusement. "How do they go on?"

I threaded them on, like Ino had done to me only days earlier. He shook his head, clearly testing the weight of them as they moved slightly.

"Looks good?" I offered, uncertainly. They were mostly hidden by his hair anyway.

Sasuke took a mouthful of coffee, then offered the thermos back to me. We had nearly finished it by the time sensei showed up, which was barely even late for him.

"First rule," Kakashi-sensei said, eyelid only half open. "You do not mention this to anyone. Especially not Gai."

We blinked at him. "Sensei?"

"Trust me," he said, blinking slowly. "This hurts me just as much as it hurts you. But we don't have much time and you need to start learning this."

He threw me a Konoha style tanto – a short sword – which was a fairly common piece of equipment. Well, I had been meaning to learn some kenjutsu, hadn't I?

A second one went to Sasuke, though it was older and more worn. Even at first glance the hilt and handguard were different in style. Sasuke thumbed the sheath down, and the blade was sharp and bright.

"Chakra sabre," Kakashi-sensei muttered, quietly and quickly, like if he said it fast it wouldn't have any meaning. "No point only having one legendary blade on the team. Anyway, you'll pick this up fast enough that it'll be useful. Just be careful; it's fragile."

I struggled not to raise my eyebrows at him. Sasuke didn't appear to recognize the significance of it, which was probably what sensei wanted.

"So," Kakashi-sensei went on, drawing another standard tanto that had been strapped to his lower back. "Time to learn, my cute Genin."