November Creeps Back and It's Been Over a Year

:: ::

The tattoo surprised him the first time he saw it.

Her and Bee had come back to the island at the end of two weeks like they always did, only he didn't expect her to greet him with blue horns inked on her face as a clear mark for her guidance under Killer Bee. The first thing he thought was what a bold place for an apprentice tattoo, and the second had been oh, she's actually learning under Bee.

Bee with a student wasn't an unusual sight in Kumo. Nii Yugito had been a student at one point or another and so had Darui, one for bijuu control and one for kenjutsu, respectively. But Sakura was a little different than a student Bee would typically take on. True, she was a natural hand with swords and by some turn of talent she'd achieved the impossible and matched him for blow, for stamina, for perseverance.

But she was also a gift with genjutsu with the talent to spot and dispel them within a minute, and able to put one forth with the one-handed seals she'd gone through too many sleepless weeks to master. Bee didn't have an aptitude for things like that, which is why Motoi supposed he filled in that spot quite well, and they'd both taken on the cold girl with electric pink hair just a few inches shy of six feet tall because there was something in her that was so... curious.

Motoi glanced over at Sakura who took to completing a set of stretches nearby.

"Did you know," he started, and she stood from a side bend stretch to meet his gaze, "that you always look up at the trees when you're trapped in a genjutsu?"

She dipped into a side lunge stretch. He couldn't see her face from where he's standing, but he knew avoidance when he saw one. "Do I?"

"No matter if it's induced by eye contact or otherwise, you head always drifts up," he says. "It's odd, but as long as you can break out of whatever you're trapped in, it shouldn't affect anything." Motoi shook his head. "Anyway, today I'll be testing you with a high level genjutsu and we'll see how well you do with that."

Sakura nodded and moved directly across the field from him and leaves her thicker black jacket on the sidelines, revealing a black muscle shirt and her blue vambrace. It was brisk on the ocean today with the threat of snowfall on the horizon, Genbu swimming along much slower than her usual self.

He frowned. "You don't want to keep your jacket on?"

"It'll be easier like this."

"You might get a cold."

"Motoi-san."

"Ah, alright, alright," he acquiesced. He should know better than to try to pick that stubborn brain of hers. "Ready?"

She sunk into a defensive stance, her right arm held out and her left bicep pressed against her side. She nodded once, and so did he, and then his hands flew through four seals her eyes were quick to track. "Raiton: Raigen Raikochu!"

Blazing white light discharged throughout his body and into the entirety of the training grounds, and from his vantage he saw Sakura's body lock and her eyes go wide and there—her head tilted back ever so slightly and she stared into the treeline with pupils blown so wide there was no way she hadn't been caught.

He launched at her the same moment with a tanto poised to strike her left side. It was her weakest, her most unprotected, and it was the side he'd always go for to make sure she learned it was the place her enemies would tend to strike first.

But before it reached, before it made contact, he saw it.

Her fingers curled in like a dying spider's legs—half a snake seal—and just before metal connected with flesh, she whispered.

"Doton: Domu."

Her skin distorted some sort of blue-gray and his tanto slammed with a clang that reverberated all the way up his arm. Her skin, Motoi startled in thought, it's like hitting a steel beam.

His eyes snapped up to her face and she was still half-caught in the genjutsu with a blank face and eyes that glowed against the dark earth of her skin and he dodged the punch slammed in his direction.

Its shock wave left a rift in the ground and he skidded back, readying himself for another attack.

But he stopped when he saw her staring down at her hand like she saw a ghost.

(Her skin isn't the jet gray Kakuzu shudders into with a wordless call, but it's the same technique she'd seen over and over and over as a child, the one he used to kill those Takigakure shinobi, the one he used to cleave trees, the one he used to hold blades without drawing a single drop of blood, she's done it, she should be happy, but the technique made her look like... look like...

"I'm not a good man.")

"Sakura."

Her world sucked back to the present and the color faded from her skin.

Motoi's brows creased with worry as the trembling breaths she took left quick white puffs in the air. Whatever had shaken her put fear in her eyes—after one blink it was still there, after two it was gone and she slowly, quietly, pulled herself back together until she looked just like she did when she strolled onto the island earlier that morning.

"It's the first time I've successfully completed that technique," she said like she wasn't just on the verge of a breakdown. "It's an effective defense, especially for close combat."

Too many questions ran through his head. He only asked one. "Where did you learn it?"

"Someone I knew used it often. It took me a while, but I was able to replicate it." Sakura lifted her arm to demonstrate what she'd done.

And it was almost instantaneously that both her and Motoi noticed her vambrace had somehow loosened when her skin turned to stone and was thrown somewhere she aimed her punch. The bandages beneath it had in turn loosened as well and started to unwind, revealing the three dark bands around her arm that could only mark her as one thing in Kumogakure.

Her eyes slid to his, carefully observing the contours of his face as he hand hovered over the hilt of her katana.

She tensed as Motoi walked forward, but he simply picked the vambrace off the ground and tucked it under his arm as he gently took her wrist to begin re-wrapping her bandages.

One, two, three times around, and he finally spoke. "You did good," he said. "Let's take a break. Have I ever taken you up to meet Genbu face to face? No? We should visit. It's only proper since she's allowing us to use her shell as a training ground."

He slipped on the vambrace and took care to fasten each strap into its buckle and even handed her back her jacket after that. She tugged it over her shoulders, a considering look in her eyes as she followed him eastward.

"You don't hate me?" she questioned as they passed thick trees and pine needles that stuck in the soles of their winter sandals. Motoi pulled his green scarf tighter around his lower face.

"Not at all."

"Why?"

The scarf covers half his face, but it doesn't hide his kind smile.

"Because I've met you," he answered. A breeze whipped around them and chills any exposed skin. Sakura blinked, and laughs as he patted her shoulder. "You aren't a criminal, Sakura, and if you were you never did anything I'd hate you for."

Hearing the echo of the words she always saved for Naruto pressed a pain in her chest she hadn't felt in a long time.

She took one last trembling breath and continued to walk.

:: ::

"I've been thinkin' that it's time you get yourself a summons, an otherworldly beast. It wouldn't hurt to sign one, at least, and sometimes your problems on the battlefield get ceased."

Bee and Sakura sat cross-legged along some of Kumo's taller peaks, the grounds painted in a thin layer of snow that crunched with each step they took on the hike up the mountains. The journey was quiet and comfortable, Bee humming a beat and Sakura marveling at the white crystals that thaw at the touch of her bare skin.

Once upon a time, her father had promised to take her to see the snow someday.

They trudged up as high as they could go to meditate and harness their chakra while understanding the ebb and flow of it, where they would eventually move on to her learning how to apply techniques efficiently and without suffering a needless drain on her reserves. She was no jinchuuriki nor had been blessed with a large chakra core, so the only way to keep up with powerhouses like that was to learn to ration accordingly.

And now, after sitting on flat-topped rocks for maybe three hours now, Sakura opened her eyes and glanced at her mentor as she brushed the snow that collected on her head and shoulders. "A summons doesn't sound too bad." She frowned. "I would be able to choose who I sign with, right?"

"Sure, but sometimes it doesn't work that way," he said. His blond-white hair was almost completely soaked through with melted snow. "You can take your pick but they've gotta pick you back too, and if they say no the one that's gotta move on is you." He grasped his chin. "Usually it doesn't take too long if you go about it that way since most students are like their mentors and more often than not share a contract, but I can't help you there since I've already got a special act."

Gyuuki huffed. 'Idiot. What am I, a magic trick?'

Sakura leaned against her legs as she stared out at the skyline. She looked back at him after a few seconds. "What if I don't know what summons I want?"

"Is there one you don't want?"

"Sharks," she answered immediately. Bee watched as she pressed her lips together after she'd gone a shade paler and averted her gaze. "I don't want my summons to be sharks."

'Ah. So there's a story,' Gyuuki mused. 'I wonder who spurned her far from sharks.'

'Whatever it was isn't any of our business, Gyuu. Look at her—you ever seen her go that hue?'

Gyuuki eyed the pallor in her face and resumed his silence.

"No sharks, then," Bee agreed easily. Struck with a sudden idea, he dug into the small pack he brought along with them and pulled out a sheet of seal paper, a brush, and a half-used bottle of ink. Carefully he drew out a configuration while he muttered to himself, probably conversing with the Hachibi, and Sakura noted he didn't write with the same quick speed and perfect angles like Kiba did, but he had a sheet full of drying black ink after a few minutes and held up the finished piece for her to see.

"Lucky for you, we know a little trick that can bring you to the summons that best stands by your side. Just draw some of your blood and place it right here, and you'll get transported to where your summons resides. So if you get something like a duck, sucks, but you'll pull through." He smiled at her softly, almost like a parent to their kid. "And if they're sharks," he said, "you'll have to face them too."

She grimaced. "... Alright."

She rolled her shoulders before she bit down on the pad of her thumb and ran a streak of blood down the length of the paper.

A sharp tug at her navel dragged her backwards and the ground dropped out from under her.

She landed a split second later in a midnight green forest overrun with frost, and the first thing she sees is six antlers and a pair of eyes that burn molten orange.

:: ::

Kiba nearly flipped the low table when the air crackled and a body fell onto the ground beside him, moss and water lilies and river water streaming after it. His nose wrinkled at the sudden scent of evergreen that assaulted his senses as Shino shot to his feet and gaped at the shaking form that pushed itself up to its knees, an exhausted eye glaring steadily through a curtain of soaked, pink hair.

Kiba dove next to her and pushed the hair out her face and Shino rifled through the kit he kept on the shelf. With the smell of forest came the smell of blood; only the shredded remains of her sports bra cover her chest, and their eyes were drawn to the gash that drew from her left hip, curved through the valley between her breasts, and ended just below her right armpit.

One of Shino's hands flared peppermint and the other unrolled a coil of gauze, his insects swarming atop her minor cuts and bruises to stop any bleeding and assessing the full scope of the damage. Akamaru dashed into the bathroom to grab as many towels as he could and Kiba lowered her head into his lap when all of her energy drained out and she couldn't hold herself up any longer.

"What the hell happened?" Kiba demanded. "Why're you torn ta' shit?!"

Her eyes struggled to meet his and she smirked lightly. "I passed."

Shouting filled her ears as she blacked out.

:: ::

The next day, Bee opened the door to the kids' cell to the sight of Kiba and Sakura passed out in a pile of damp towels, moss, and water lilies, and a chakra-depleted Shino slumped over the table.

Akamaru padded around their bodies, pushing extra towels around to mop up the water and dropping bloodied gauze and cotton pads into the trash can.

"Oh boy..." he exhaled, and the huge white dog trotted up to him with pleading eyes and a slow wagging tail. "Y'all don't do things by halves, do you?"

Akamaru whined.

"Alright, don't you worry your fuzzy little head off, I got 'em."

Bee picked up Shino first and placed him on the bed closest to the wall. He'd always wondered why one of the first things they'd done was push all their beds together, and he only had to dwell on it for a little while to come up with an answer that made any sense: they were safe together. And he'd heard Kiba say something about them all being pack, and after everything they all went through, it wasn't any stretch of the imagination that none of them wanted to be alone.

He took Kiba next and set him in the center, where he immediately rolled to his right for his forehead to smack into Shino's shoulder. He didn't even flinch, and Bee held back a snort.

Last he carried Sakura over, mindful of the wounds on her torso as he laid her down at Kiba's other side, but unlike him she didn't move an inch. Her breathing was deep and her brow was pale, but it was nothing some rest and recovery wouldn't fix.

"Congrats," he whispered as he plucked a bit of moss out of her hair. Akamaru leapt onto the beds to curl at their feet. "Looks like sharks weren't it for you."

He left the cell and let C and Mabui know that none of their kids would be working today.

:: ::

To The December That Never Let You Be

:: ::

Mabui watched in rapt fascination as Kiba used a toothpick from the restaurant they just came from to ink immobilization seals onto individual pieces of senbon. This was the improved version, he told her earlier. He'd worked on it a bit with his old sensei, but this time he could add more sequences to prolong the length of time the genjutsu could stay activated.

Typical seal theory had never held her interest. Not when they had their overview at the Actinoform Academy, not when her genin sensei had tried to explain it to her, not once at any time when she climbed up the ranks and made it as Raikage-sama's assistant.

But when Kiba talked about it, it was nothing like the way those stuffy sensei had tried to when she was twelve. He compared it to ridiculous anecdotes and explained his ideas with sweeping gestures and a wide grin that was almost always infectious.

She smiled when a particularly grumpy look crossed his face when he almost smudged a sequence.

"At this rate you might need a microscope."

"You think Shino can finesse me one?"

"Maybe if you ask him nicely," she chuckled. His jacket was thrown over the end of the table and he was left in his usual sleeveless mesh, his forearms and calves bound in crimson bandages. From her seat at his side it was easier to study the kanji on his bicep, and after an hour of careful observation she was able to pick out individual ideas on some of the lines, especially the ones she learned from all the time she spent with the Seals Division nowadays.

Summoning was one of its uses. Chakra storage was another.

Her musings had her drifting towards the drawers at the work table, Kiba's name penned on one of the name tags that labeled this space as his own. The sealed scrolls they brought with them when they first came to Kumo were stored in those drawers, untouched save for the times he'd taken out Sakura's sword and Shino's medical inventory.

"Your scrolls..." she mentioned. He grunted, not looking up from his work. "How come you've never taken anything out for yourself?"

The room had emptied up for the day, leaving the two of them in the back and Akamaru sniffing through a text by their feet. Kiba set down his toothpick and held his senbon up to dry as his free hand reached into the half-open drawer to pull out one of the three scrolls. When the senbon dried and was stacked with the rest of the finished slivers of metal, he unraveled the scroll on the length of the desk, nicked his thumb, and smeared his blood in a line down the center.

More texts, another sealed scroll, a gray jacket that didn't look to fit him anymore, and a jar filled with red paint appeared in a cloud of smoke.

(The paint wasn't Kumo red. It's lighter, vivid, more of a strain on the eyes.)

"Before we left on that first mission that brought us here we, uh, took all the stuff we thought was important to us," he explained. He pulled the jar close to him and twisted open the cap. Dried paint flaked around the edges and some of the top is cracked, and he almost dipped two fingers in like a reflex.

But his brow scrunched and he stopped.

He twisted the lid back on.

"Sakura really likes that katana and Shino's inventory is one of a kind, but..." He shrugged, and Mabui's heart cried for him. "All the stuff I think's important I pretty much already have with me. Right, Akamaru?"

An enthused bark. Kiba left the summoned scroll and texts back in the drawer but tossed the gray jacket and jar of red paint on the floor by his feet and picked up another senbon.

:: ::

Akamaru whimpered.

"Oh no, you don't get ta' complain 'bout this one! I said what I said 'bout runnin' through all those mountain goats but noooo, no one listens to Kiba! No one thinks Kiba's right! And look where it got you! Covered in these goddamn bugs! If you ain't Shino you don't have an excuse!"

And now here he was, grumbling under his breath as he sat on the outskirts of a park with Akamaru sprawled over his lap as he plucked the ticks out his fur and tossed the little bastards into a plastic bag he'll burn to high hell when he finished.

Darui watched from his spot beside them, amused. "If it makes you feel any better, the seals you tested were able to identify intruders based upon intent."

"Yeah but how come NO ONE said the goats we worked with were infested with ticks?!"

"Sorry, we didn't know. Thanks for figuring that out."

"You're welcome."

Darui muffled his snort and pulled his cloak tighter around him to fend off the harsh air. It was always colder as high as they were with their thinner air and scattered clouds. Not to mention how harsh the snow could get, icing up the connecting bridges and causing shinobi to slip off the rooftops every now and again.

Kiba wasn't quite used to the bitter cold of Lightning Country. He shivered slightly under the cloth of his own cloak and his jacket and the tips of his fingers were pale as he dug around his partner's fur.

Darui couldn't help but wonder about the way things had fallen into place the past months. The boy who poured out his blood to jot down theories before he had the chance to forget them was practically a full-fledged member of the Seals Division, had Mabui who adored him like a little brother, and everyone that saw him saw a grinning thirteen year old genius with the fluffiest nin-dog as his companion—a kid too rowdy and too smart all at the same time.

But Darui knew better. Saw how the boy held himself in front of others differently than in front of his team.

Always smiling. Always the unpredictable. Then with his pack, thoughtful, angry, so heartbreakingly open.

He would never forget the day that same boy lost part of his hearing to save someone he didn't even know.

And that just wasn't a characteristic of someone who didn't know how to play up the cards to their own favor.

"Isn't it exhausting?"

"Huh? What is?"

"All of this." Darui gestured vaguely with one hand. "Bouncing around new seal ideas while keeping up five different conversations at a time. There's a whole corner in the workroom that just has your stacked notebooks since you started working there. You don't get that far without a goal in mind and don't tell me it's just 'cause you want to learn—I can see it in you. How everything drops when you think no one's looking anymore." Kiba twitched. "... Aren't you tired?"

Akamaru grew strangely subdued, his snout shutting and his head slowly rising off the ground. His back was rigid as he stared off into the distance, his tail stilling and his paws planting firmly into the dirt, just in case. Kiba lifted his ear to pluck a tick off the end of it, and Darui caught a glimpse of the tattoo along the inner pink skin: a black beetle surrounded by a faint green glow, a black senbon decorated with red seals, and a single dark pink cherry blossom pierced through with a blue katana.

"I'm always tired."

(A beast sealed in a boy. An underground lab. Kurenai-sensei. A greed for power. Corruption. Tenzo-san. The destruction of Konoha. Truths. Lies. Uchiha Itachi. A missing eye. A missing arm. A cell. Another. Blood on his hands every day for a month straight. Sai.)

Kiba sunk forward under the guise he was looking for more ticks.

(He won't let Darui know the weight on his shoulders only ever gets heavier.)

"Then why don't you rest?" Darui questioned. His voice was the same soft gravel, but he doesn't try to hide his genuine concern. Of course he was concerned. He'd known Kiba too long not to care, and he'd known Kiba too long to have not brought any of this up before.

Kiba flipped up Akamaru's other ear, on the inside were the words and the pack survived.

"Because I'm not done yet," he said. The burning in his eyes was dangerous—raging, unrelenting, flashing with all he hated. "Not yet. But I'm pretty patient."

Another tick went into the bag.

"And when I finally get there, he's gonna wish he was dead before I got to him."

Darui didn't ask who "he" was or what Kiba had to finish, but he knew a vengeance when he saw one, so he sat back and said nothing.

Instead, he handed Kiba a pair of gloves before his fingers got frostbite.

:: ::

Heavy snow clogged the streets of Kumo as Sakura, Kiba, and Shino huddled against one of the walls on their combined beds, swathed in pillows and blankets after munching on tomato bredie and melktert and bone broth soup Enmu dropped off for them, "Courtesy of your friends," she said. Then, she'd slid over some thermoses of hot chocolate "with crushed chili peppers and fresh yak milk, and some cantaloupe water for Akamaru, from yours truly."

After their empty bowls and plates had stacked on the table and their thermoses steamed within reach on the book shelves, Shino tucked himself in the corner with Sakura's head in his lap and Kiba's head on her stomach. Akamaru curled between Kiba's hip and Sakura's legs and they'd shut off all the lights in the cell, leaving the one in the bathroom on for only the faint rays to reach them.

"You guys ever think 'bout Konoha at all?" Kiba asked, one arm clutching a pillow to his chest and the other holding on to Sakura's arm thrown over his collar bone. "I mean, yeah it was our home and I kinda miss but, but I dunno. It's hard ta' explain." He sighed and dropped his head back harder and Sakura whacked him in the head. "Kinda like... what're we supposed to do now?"

"You know what we're supposed to do."

"Yeah, but other than that. What're we gonna do before we get there?"

Silence swam through the cell for a time, and it was no longer odd for their minds to pull them elsewhere in moments like these. They'd sometimes lose themselves to their thoughts and memories and things they couldn't forget with only each other to pull themselves back to the ground.

"We'll do what's best," Sakura said. "Protect those behind us."

"Aid those beside us," added Shino as he took off his glasses and settled in for sleep, his hand intertwined in pink hair.

Kiba, half-lidded and drowsy, drew a wide-mouthed yawn that made his fangs glimmer in the low light. "And be the nightmare to those who'll try and stop us."

"Hm," Sakura muttered, eyes closed and Akamaru's damp nose poking near her ankles. "Not bad."

They were asleep before midnight, missing the crest of the new year and the celebrations of the Kumor down on the streets below.

:: ::

January Helped Us

:: ::

Shino was clocking out of his shift when a particularly mouthy patient was wheeled in from around the corner, leering at every person that passed. They were chock-full of anesthesia and not even remotely close to their right of mind, and he made to walk past to continue on with his day.

"Hey pretty nurse, you gotta—gotta fix me up real good."

R threw up an apologetic smile that barely hid his grimace as he quickened his pace towards the operating rooms. Shino's face remained blank and met Yugito by the entrance. She greeted him with her cheered smile and they walked towards the greenhouses, his hands stiff in his pockets and just out of her sight.

But something in that blankness he donned must have been different this time, because the moment the glass doors closed behind him and he transferred some materials to his work bench, she took a seat on the stool and pinned him with a look.

"Don't let that get to you," she said. "He was hopped up on drugs and didn't know what he was saying. And if he did, you were in full rights to punch his face in."

"The jeering." When Shino's confusion didn't clear up, she pointed to his hands. "Your knuckles were white when you pulled them out your pockets. Wasn't the jeering what bothered you?"

"... No." Shino flipped on his microscope. "I didn't care about that. Why? He was a patient in the hospital on high dosage, I understand some reactions to medication are unsavory."

"So it was...?"

"He called me... nurse."

Yugito blinked a few times, then squinted and crossed her arms. "So he called you by the wrong title?"

He adjusted the light on the microscope, carefully picking out his words. What he should say, what he shouldn't. And there seemed to be little that he shouldn't. "Nurse is—was—what they called me in the Coliseum. A nickname, because it was easier to cheer for an alias than a real name. Why? It's a degree of separation; not knowing a real name removes a personal attachment, so I suppose it's more like cheering for your favorite animal rather than a person," he replied. He sorted through the box of parasite samples he kept in the freezer. Yugito straightened and Matatabi's tails swished; she'd heard of his and his team's origins, only scarcely, the bare bones of it all, but this was the first time she heard anything from him. "They called Kiba Senbon because of his proclivity for them and they called Sakura Hammerhead because the first thing she'd done was headbutt a guard while they brought us out to the arena for the first time."

He picked out a petri dish and defrosted it with a warm burst of chakra and placed it beneath the magnifier. "I killed many that month and a half," he told her quietly. One of his hands reached up to brush against his neck, and she didn't think he knew he was doing it. "And every time I won, they would cheer for Nurse."

Yugito could only imagine what it would be like stuck in a place like the Coliseum.

'He's a strong one.'

'He shouldn't have gone through that.'

'None of us get to decide on the trials we face, Yugito-chan,' Matatabi's voice was a cool whisper through her head. 'That particular one was over now. There's no use in dwelling.'

She spied the droop in his shoulders and gently grasped his forearm. "Hey. You made it here. You're Kumor now."

Shino smiled faintly. His healed tattoo brushed faintly against his shirt and he thought of R, all his comrades at the hospital. He remembered the moment C finally accepted him as a medic and as a person, and his heart heavied in a way only Kiba and Sakura could ever really understand.

"I live in Catatumbo, Yugito-san," he reminded her gently. Yugito's eyes flashed and she let his arm free from her hold—the arm so clearly marked with prisoner bands beneath sleeves and bandages. Shino made a few notes, stored the sample, and picked out a new one. "The only Kumor I can ever be is partly."

He turned back to experiment as she sat by and watched, stricken with silence.

Because what could you say to something like that?

:: ::

"Hey, where's your mini-me?"

Airashi, one of Cirrus Central's more senior medics, hopped up onto the corner of C's desk, his fiery orange hair bouncing with the movement. His hand would have smudged the ink on some newly signed forms if they weren't moved to the side at the last second.

C sighed. "Who?"

He wasn't impressed with the are-you-serious look cast his way.

"Your mini-me? Your apprentice? Shino?"

"Shino's my apprentice?

"Are you—really? You sponsored him to work at the hospital, taught him the rounds, assigned him an entire ward to himself to a month, let him work on Yugito-san," he listed, counting off each instance on a finger. C frowned down at his papers. "You even got him a donut last Monday! You never buy anyone donuts! You might as well be his dad!"

"I'm not his dad." C pinched his brow and sighed again. Why was it that every time Airashi stopped by it brought another headache? "But... he might be my apprentice," he relented.

Images of a boy so lost in his exhaustion as he wasted away on the concrete floors of an empty cell flickered through his mind, as did the sight of cuts both fresh and still-new and all the days C came in to make sure he was still alive and breathing, that he hadn't killed himself from all the chakra he forced through the metal prison to heal and heal and heal.

C wanted to laugh at the thought. The shackles they'd worn in the earlier months of their imprisonment were hanging in Catatumbo's store room for months now, unused.

"Though Shino should be—"

There were two knocks on the door and Shino strode in with a couple files in hand and a few pens in the pocket of his long white coat. C gestured at him and took the folders. "—right here."

The teen's glasses were still fixed over his face with those odd orange rims and his hair was tied up in a messy bun.

He looked nothing like the Konohan in the empty prison cell.

(He looked like Shino.)

"Did you need me for something?"

"Just to tell you the good news," Airashi grinned. "The new shipment of sterile nitrile gloves came in today."

Both C and Shino leaned forward ever so slightly. "And?" the latter pressed.

"And the board switched us back to the Phthalo brand!"

The two slumped in relief and those outside who heard shouted their victory. The last shipment they'd gotten had been filled with some second-rate gloves that tore every other time one of the staff tried to put them on and were so flimsy and pathetic it incited a deep rage that no one quite knew they had. A shipment normally lasted the entire hospital five or six months, but the hatred for those budge-cut gloves had the stock used up in a month, a Cirrus Central record.

C twirled a pen in his hand as he watched Airashi go off on those second-rate gloves as Shino listened with thinly veiled amusement. It was such a small thing, such a niche problem that rallied up the doctors and nurses and receptionists that others probably wouldn't care to understand.

And Shino was here to share it with them. To befriend the other staff and to have returning patients come in and ask 'oh, and how's Shino-san doing?'

It made C... happy to see the development. Proud, even.

That this Konohan had become one of them.

At the end of the day when C and Shino finished up their shifts for the day and they stepped out into the lively Kumo night, C didn't lead them on one of the paths towards Catatumbo. Shino was curious, but it wasn't until their light conversation made it all the way to Parhelic Circle that he truly voiced his confusion.

"Are we meant to be here?"

"Yes. Well." C cleared his throat. "You know how Sakura-san's tattoo is an apprentice tattoo?"

:: ::

The skies were dark and the stars shimmered overhead when Shino returned to the cell. Sakura tended to her sword on the couch, Akamaru nosed through a couple books on the table, and Kiba hung upside down off the bed with one hand holding him up and the other holding a page of seals close to his face.

He settled on the couch and accepted the mug of tea Sakura passed over.

"Long day?" she inquired.

"A bit," he replied. He placed his mug on the table and hiked up his right pant leg all the way up to his knee. "I saw Siphepho-san today."

An outline of a butterfly, orange around the wings and a white streak along the top sat on the back of his calf.

The Greta Oto.

(C walked home with the same one in the same place.)

:: ::

February Kept Us

:: ::

On a Sunday in Ame, Kisame sat by the window in his apartment and gazed out onto the streets.

How interesting it was for the sunny days to be the dullest days. The signs didn't gleam, the roads didn't glow, the people didn't bustle about like they would under a sky that never let up for anyone.

He dragged his eyes from the streets to the lake that surrounded the village.

It was coming up on two years since he'd last seen his pup.

He'd been meaning to check up on her, to stop by or send Kasumi or something, but every time he tried... something at the back of his head always stopped him. Every day he waited, Sakura grew older. Stronger. Wiser. And every day that passed was another hesitation in his skin, his muscles, his bones.

She... was probably more than capable of taking care of herself now. What right did he have to interfere with that? She wasn't someone who needed to be watched and he forfeited the right to be in her life the moment he left her all alone in that abandoned warehouse with a promise he couldn't keep.

"Remember I'll always come back for you."

And Konoha protected their own, didn't they? More so than other villages anyway.

He was getting sick with worry over nothing.

'But I still want to see her,' he thought solemnly. 'Before she's all grown up.'

Though it might be a little too late for that.

A takeout box slid in front of him while someone took a seat in the chair to his right as they set down two capped cups of jaljeera and their own takeout. Konan was unconcerned at her unannounced entry, and Kisame was far too used to it to really care.

"What's this for?"

"I had a feeling you hadn't eaten today. Was I correct?"

"Heh. A lil' too on the nose, but I won't turn down free food." He flipped open the styrofoam top, the karimeen fry inside making his mouth water instantly. "Konan-san, you're too good to me."

She opened her own box of chicken biryani and snapped apart her chopsticks. They dug into their meals in a midst of quiet, but it was no different than all their other meetups. Whether they argued over the most recent ice hockey matches on frozen-over marshes or sat and simply enjoyed each other's company, it was nice.

"I thought you'd be out preparing for the festival tomorrow."

For February 20th, the Festival of Colored Rain. For as long as he remembered, citizens swell the streets dressed in all white. There would be food and dance and song under a cloudy, dry sky, and once the clock struck four pm on the dot, the heavens cried and white clothes suddenly exploded into color.

A festival that honored God's ascension. Kisame never participated and preferred to watch from the tops of the tallest buildings.

"I needed a break," she admitted. She sipped her drink. "Would you mind if I took it here?"

"Knock yourself out."

The next hour or so was spent chatting about preparations for the morning and how the air outside thickened with the scent of slowly broiling meats and slow cooking curries.

They waited for the day to pass, a little less lonely together, and they waited for the rain.

:: ::

A sighed. Heavily. Like all the air in his lungs had left him in the same moment and he was only a hair's breadth away from gasping for more. Cirrus Central's efficiency was at an all time high, the Seals Division was churning out so many answers to so many questions they didn't know they had, and Bee had been keeping out of the usual trouble save for the occasional impromptu rap concerts he managed to crop up.

He stroked his goatee as he stood on the roof of Catatumbo Penitentiary, overlooking the village and breathing in the biting air.

Had he gone too soft? Had he lost himself in allowing those Konoha shinobi to live?

He never interacted with them long enough to get an answer for himself, as if he'd allow himself the chance to gain that unwanted attachment—something many of his own shinobi had forgone. Even Mabui, his trusted assistant, advisor, right-hand, had taken one of the prisoners under her wing and mentioned him often.

A sighed again.

He had absolute faith in his people. He trusted them to do what was right as long as no harm came from it, and he wasn't about to hover over their shoulders making sure their right was always his right. They were good people, and for all the trouble it would have brought should the word get out, it was clear they saw as much in the Konohans as well.

He didn't know which way this was going to turn. He didn't know how long it would be until someone got a little too curious and found three teenagers had been holed up in Catatumbo this whole time with bands on their forearms like a brand they would have to bear the rest of their lives.

A thought about the seals on their tongues and the mice on their necks, and he bore a single thread of guilt.

It wouldn't be like they didn't have practice in permanence.

He quickly wiped away his sympathetic streak and frowned.

Whatever would happen would happen, and when it did, he'd deal with it accordingly.

:: ::

Five figures whispered amongst themselves, hushed arguments hidden in the Kumogakure night under the shadow of knowing stars.

"You heard them that day. I know we've grown to care for them but what you're proposing for us to do—"

"Just like you said, it's sooner or later. If it's done now, if we figure out how, then we can get it down without sweat on our brow."

'To think your recklessness would know some bounds!'

A sigh. A pair of hands stuffed into pants pockets. "They're doing fine here, aren't they? They're Kumor, they're integrated as much as they can get." A considering silence. "Surely you can't think doing this so soon is the best idea?"

"They live in Catatumbo and aren't allowed to go wherever they please without an escort, how much do you think they can take? No matter how they've grown and what we've done for them, at the end of the day they're the same as they were when they first came here. Prisoners. And you know them well enough they're not the type to settle." Twenty-seven seconds passed. "... They deserve so much more than this."

Guilt. Regret. Remorse. Shame.

"This is crazy. And you know what else is crazy? That I'm actually starting to think about doing it." A frustrated puff of air, long blonde hair swaying. "But that day in their cell when we didn't know what we were listening for... The way they talked about this someone they wanted to kill—they'll stop at nothing. And the longer we keep this up..."

'Do not blame them for their vengeance. There are some things that can never be forgiven.'

Only one had yet to speak and it was to them they all turned to, waiting, wondering, listening for the next words to sway the jury.

Short blond hair brushed over dark eyes, a calf tattoo burned, and a mouth opened. "If we don't give them this, after everything, how can we look at ourselves in the mirror and think we've done nothing wrong?"

It was four in the morning.

Soon, it would be dawn.

:: ::

But March Set Us Free

:: ::

"Shino-san, I can't believe you didn't tell me!" R pouted. Shino slowly stopped writing on his clipboard as he raised his head, his expression constructed into a perfectly blank mask he made sure was no different than the face he normally wore on his shifts. "If we would've known we would've thrown you a party and everything!"

Millions of scenarios ran through his head, not a single one good, and his kikai fidgeted around his veins. "For what?"

"What do you mean 'for what'? You put in your two weeks notice, like two weeks ago! Isn't today your last day at Cirrus Central? And mind you, I had to hear about it from Kohei-san on the third floor because he heard from—"

Shino's eyes darted from spot to spot around R. He hadn't heard anything about putting in his resignation. He hadn't even known putting in a resignation was possible for someone in his position. Unless...

He glanced around for C. He wasn't there.

"—so why're you leaving anyway?"

"Ah... I suppose it was time for me. Why? I was here longer than I expected."

"Back to Imvula, right?"

"Right."

Shino forced a small smile onto his face and tried to calm the quickening pace of his heart. He knew this would come sooner or later but a little forewarning would have been nice, and perhaps it would all be easier to take if he hadn't liked any of the Kumor he'd met.

After all, Kumo kept them alive for much longer than they had to, hadn't they?

:: ::

Q and Airashi burst through the doors half an hour later with a farewell cake and half the staff gathering to tell him how much they'd miss him.

With every word they said, another stone dropped in his stomach.

:: ::

His very last shift at the hospital ended at ten at night on March 28th when the sun was long gone and the air still lingered with the cold of a harsh winter. Yugito was already waiting for him at the back entrance, and C was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," she smiled, and it held nothing of her usual liveliness. It was a bit wistful, maybe even bittersweet if he dared think it. His kikai hummed louder and urged him to do something—to run, to scream, to live like the way he'd fought for it over and over again.

But fighting the Coliseum was different than fighting an entire village. He wouldn't win. They wouldn't win.

"Good evening," he returned. They walked down the path to Catatumbo, then they were at Catatumbo, and then they were past Catatumbo and all the fear that curled in his chest throughout the day broke past his ribs. Sweat shone on the back of his neck and his fingers began to twitch.

It would be easier if his friends weren't the ones to kill him.

And if he asked... would they let him say goodbye to his pack?

Where they would execute him, would they—

Yugito grabbed his upper arm and threw them both off the side of one of the plateaus and they scaled the side until they swung down into the alcove too far down to be seen by any of the bridges and too far up to see what awaited down below.

"Yugit—"

"Hold on," she said. She reached into the pouch on her waist and pulled out a couple scrolls he easily recognized as made by Kiba's hand, untied the kunai pouch around her thigh, and yanked off the med kit hanging off the red sash on her hip.

All of it was thrust into his hands.

"Store them all tightly, make sure none of it can come loose," she demanded. Shino frowned and drew himself up to full height, and he allowed his kikai's buzzing to be just loud enough to be an undercurrent to his words.

"Why?" he asked. She pursed her lips, glanced up, then back to him.

"We don't have a lot of time," she stressed, and that alone was enough to stop him. "Please."

So he did. He tucked the scrolls in a hidden pocket in the lining of his coat, linked the kunai pouch around his thigh, and clipped the med kit on his hip. All the while, his stare never left her, and she allowed a fleeting thought about how unnerving those dark lenses were under the blanket of a sky of blackened blue.

Yugito only turned away when someone silently slipped into the alcove with them, crowding them all further into the already tight space.

C stood in all his gear, yet another white flak vest dangled from his hands.

And then it was in Shino's before he could blink.

"There's a lake at the bottom, deepest in the middle and more shallow the closer you get to the banks. Aim for the center and dive either feet first or head first with your arms over your head—it'll hurt less because—"

"Less surface area means less impact," Shino finished unconsciously, his mind drifting to all the hours spent at the Aquatic Center in Konoha. He shook his head and ran the pad of his thumb over the rough cloth of the vest as he looked up at C and Yugito.

Their eyes were the same. That bittersweet.

"What's going on?"

"There's a compass in your kit. When you get to the bottom head Northwest and find the red sash tucked in the hollow of the tree by the Green River. You won't be the first one there, it'll be easier," Yugito told him. She gripped his shoulder. "And Shino?"

He wracked his brain. Tried to think about what's happening. Pulling pieces apart and putting them back together in different places, because they still haven't told him anything.

"Yes?"

"Promise me one thing?"

He was silent as he stared at that smile that would never reach her eyes, and it all snapped together suddenly, like a stretched rubber band let go.

Oh.

He tipped his head.

"Promise me that we'll see each other again."

Matatabi took her host's throat for a few moments, and it was the first time Shino ever heard the beast speak. "It was a pleasure knowing you, young one," she murmured. Her voice was like a low song sung from the earth, everything grounded and nothing left behind. "I wish you luck."

Luck.

It had been a long, long time since he had any.

She receded nearly as quickly as she came and his other shoulder was squeezed by C. Both he and Yugito lean forward and press their foreheads against his for a brief moment of warmth and quiet, and when they pulled back, Shino saw one last sad smile, and one last assuring nod.

They pushed him off the alcove.

He fell.

:: ::

Earlier that morning Mabui dropped Kiba and Akamaru off at the Seals Division work space in a flurry, only managing a quick hello and goodbye before she was off, probably to attend to something for the Raikage. He shrugged off the odd interaction before stepping into the room with the hope of combing through the few more books he found yesterday.

But he found scrolls and scrolls stacked on his desk along with ample amounts of ink and brushes and Darui sitting by them all, his gaze half-lidded as he stared out the window.

Kiba narrowed his eyes. Akamaru made sure to keep his jaws close to Darui's legs.

"What's with all a' this?" Kiba asked as he strode around the table and towards his stool. The man's eyes only moved his way when he sat.

"How many of the things in the cell are yours? As in yours, Shino-san's, Sakura-san's," he questioned, completely casting aside the previous question like it was never asked.

"Uh? Like, half the books, all the clothes, the stuff we had from before—"

"How many storage scrolls can you make to fit them all?"

Kiba's face morphed into the beginning of a snarl at the interruption, but the look Darui gave him had him shut his mouth with the click of his teeth and crossed his arms. "How much time I got?"

"Four hours."

"Four heavy-duty scrolls, three if you want a quad-lock on each, and two if you want to add a genjutsu layer. But Sakura's better at doin' that than me." He sniffed and found nothing different in the room. No new scents. Nothing out of place. "Why?"

"Just make what you can without Sakura-san's help. Four hours. That's all you have."

Kiba pulled open the drawer, because if he wasn't being told what's going on he could at least work with his favorite brush, and he's met with plain metal. All his stuff was gone, including the scrolls they came to Kumo with. "What the fuck—"

"Kiba, please." Darui's tone ended with a pleading edge that Kiba had never heard before, and it slowly ate away at his anger until it was a low simmer. "Make the scrolls and let me know when you're done. And don't worry about any distractions; the rest of the division isn't coming in until twelve."

It was nine.

Kiba got to work.

He didn't feel as the minutes ticked on, soothed at least by the crisp edges of paper and newly opened ink. Darui hadn't said a single word and instead went back to staring out that damn window, and Akamaru hasn't moved from his station. Kiba hadn't a clue what was even going on or what was up with the normally chill nin and frankly, he'd only care once he was done with all this work.

But as he touched up on the third scroll, the first Seals Division member came in for the day.

Brown hair, dark eyes, strong jaw; Yotsuki Kiyoi had come in early today, and that just made everything weirder.

"What's up, Kiyoi-san? Department Head finally get on your ass for your late clock-ins?" Kiba greeted. Kiyoi laughed and set his bag by his table.

"He stopped whining after I figured out that fifteen year old seal we dug up from the Archives, but I'm makin' today the only exception. I wanted to see you before you head off to Wind Country to continue your seal studies," he said. A brush rolled off the desk and Kiyoi bent to pick it up, missing the sharp jerk of Akamaru's head and Kiba's widening eyes. Each drop of the teen's blood crystallized into something heavy and cold and he glanced at Darui who didn't look back. "I also just... I really wanted to thank you for saving my life that day."

Kiyoi walked up and leaned against the edge of Kiba's table. "If it weren't for me you wouldn't have, well..." He gestured at the seal strips hanging from pierced earlobes.

Kiba grinned wide, all his panic expertly hidden away. "Come on, you know it wasn't a big deal. I make these earrings look good."

A few more people who trickled in all bid him the same goodbyes, wish him luck and congrats on the apprenticeship he'd gotten with some big-shot seals master who lived an hour or two away from Suna and had agreed to take him on after he submitted a thesis on the possibility of layering odd and even seals even though it was proven to be impossible.

Which was bullshit, by the way. Because he didn't send shit to Wind to some wack-ass seals master.

He finished the third scroll with thirty minutes to spare, and when he informed Darui as much, the nin only nodded and helped him carry the scrolls back up to Catatumbo. Enmu wasn't even at her post when they passed and, oddly, no one else had come to take her place.

"Pack everything. Shino-san's, Sakura-san's, yours, all of it," Darui directed the moment he pushed open the cell door.

"Are you gonna tell us what the fuck's goin' on or—"

"No," Darui cut in, and Kiba sputtered. "Take everything that's yours. Leave nothing behind."

In ten minutes, the cell had lost all it's life. In thirteen minutes, they were at the top of the six thousand five hundred seventy two steps that led up to Kumo.

Mabui was waiting for them when they arrived, and almost immediately she pulled Kiba to her side. She patted his arms, makes sure his jacket's zipped, and made those weird little tugs on his hair that Hana used to do whenever she thought his head looked too messy.

"Mabui-san, what the hell—"

"Just one moment, Kiba-kun—"

It was the middle of the way and the village was at its busiest, but that didn't stop Darui from bombarding him with the questions he'd been hearing all morning: do you have everything are you sure have you made the scrolls are they guarded is everything in them is that all?

"What's happening right now?!" Kiba exploded in a whisper-yell when the fussing was suddenly too much. Both Darui and Mabui back off guiltily and exchange a look that set his blood to simmer. "What was everyone goin' on 'bout a seals master and Wind Country and a thesis I sure as hell didn't do?! And why isn't anyone telling us anything?"

Darui, still, didn't give an answer. He only handed over half the scrolls.

"The other half we'll hand off to Shino-san," Mabui reassured, which did absolutely jack shit to reassure him at all. If anything, it made his mouth dry and his hands twitch for a senbon. But then her hand came up to hold his bicep, her palm against his tattoo, and she smiled shakily. "Kneel for no one, Kiba-kun, and remember that no matter what happens Kumo will always have a place for you."

She planted a kiss on the side of his head, and it felt like a goodbye.

The world suddenly felt small.

"And," Darui continued, "here's hoping you'll never get thrown into another cell. At least for a while." The joke fell flat but he had nothing better, and he patted Akamaru's head a few times as his lazy smile slowly melted off his face. Akamaru muscles were rigid, heavy bricks at the contact as his eyes trailed the Kumo-nin's every movement. This wasn't a hand that would grab his neck and shove it into a collar, nor a hand that would bring glass bottles or cups or pipes over head.

This was the hand of a friend he knew he wouldn't see for a long while.

The apprehension spilled out of him and he angled his nose to brush against the palm on his head, then he edged forward to lick the back of Mabui's hand once.

Darui's patting stilled. "You two run fast, don't you?"

"... Yeah? I guess?"

He pressed a piece of paper into Kiba's hand and Mabui leaned forward with shining eyes as she whispered, "Read this, get rid of it, and run. Don't look back."

And he understood. This was the moment he thought he'd one day have to take for himself and for his pack, a moment that only seemed real through a spray of blood, broken bones, and tears that came on so strong that he wouldn't have been able to wipe them away no matter how hard he tried.

He didn't think this moment would simply come because someone else thought it needed to.

Freedom rang in his ears. It didn't sound as sweet as he imagined.

"I—"

"Go," her and Darui urged.

They listened. They went as fast as their feet could take them.

They didn't look back.

:: ::

Motoi nodded his satisfaction at Sakura's work, both proud and a bit saddened of what was to come. "You've learned well," he said. "This was your last lesson and you've passed it with flying colors." He sighed. "I only hope that one day I see it come to fruition."

Sakura stopped drinking from her water bottle and turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"This is the last time you'll be on Genbu. For a long time, I imagine." He tilted his head at her expression and puffed out a breath of air, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Bee-sama didn't tell you. Though I admit I only found out about this scarcely two weeks ago, but—"

"Tell me what?"

"That we're letting you go."

Sakura turned towards Bee as he walked into the clearing and Motoi pointedly looked away, still unable to meet his comrade's eyes after all these years. "It was easier to not let you know, though, 'cause my bro's gonna riot when we break the quiet." He hummed at her terribly unreadable demeanor. "What's with that face, Ibunzi? Thought you'd be jumping for joy when you found out you get to flee."

"I... don't think I understand. Shino, Kiba, and Akamaru—"

"That Kiba kid should be ahead if it all went to plan, and that Shino'll come after you." She blinked. "They'll have gotten all your stuff sure enough, and everyone'll do their best to come through." Bee tipped his head back towards the darkening skies. "We'll head out soon. I'll take you halfway before we see the moon."

Bee patted the back of her head before he bounded off, leaving Sakura with the acute awareness that something abruptly shifted beneath her feet. There weren't many things that surprised her nowadays, not since that fateful day Danzo had come to mark them for his sins, but this...

Bee once told her he would do anything for his students. She didn't think this would be one of them.

She shushed the rapid beating of her heart by rubbing her chest and focusing on her breathing. One, two, in. Remember what you witnessed here. One, two, out. This doesn't happen to fools who think they couldn't change the world.

Sakura raised her eyes towards the direction her mentor disappeared off to, but before she followed she looked back and raised her arm towards Motoi.

He grasped the space just below her elbow, just at the bands he once saw and ignored, and she did the same.

"I'll never be able to repay you."

"All I ask is that you take care of yourself," he said softly. "Live, and live well."

One final squeeze and she was off to catch up with Bee.

It was a silent journey to whatever halfway point he mentioned, and by the time they stopped there was a strip of color on the horizon; deep and pink and orange and alive and something she hadn't taken much care into watching until now.

"There's a red sash in a tree by the river that flows green. Make sure you keep cover below the trees, it'll keep you unseen." Bee traced the line of the sunset. "But before you dip on this trip..."

He pulled out a rope belt from his pack and passed it to her. It was nearly identical to his own—the same red, just a little thinner. The tough cord was a firm weight in her hand and the near scrape of the brand new edges caught on her callouses.

There was a small clog in her throat. She didn't know why.

"Thank you," she managed. "To you and Hachibi-san, for this—for everything." Her fingers curled tighter around the rope. "For letting us have this chance."

Gyuuki kept silent as Bee held out his fist for her to bump, but when she lifted her right arm to do so, he clutched her wrist and yanked her into hug. His arms were a warm pressure in the cooler night and felt too much like the hugs her father used to give her when she thought he was the sun, and she wrapped her arm around him too, just to hold on for a little while longer.

Then it hit her.

She didn't want to let go. She didn't want to let go.

... But she did.

"Thank you," she whispered again. She took a step back no matter how much her heart pleaded her not to and looked up at the small smile he cracked.

"Make sure when you're out there, you change the world," he said. She snorted half-heartedly and turned Northwest, a sting behind her eyes and the whisper of old memories in her ears.

But before she could take that first step, Bee called out to her one last time.

"Ibunzi."

She looked over her shoulder, the belt under her arm and the sunset behind her burning so bright it almost hurt.

"Happy Fourteenth Birthday."

She smiled in the way that melted the ice in her eyes and somehow erased the look of a thousand burdens past and the knowledge of a thousand more to come.

She smiled, and he knew he'd miss her.

And when she leapt off the cliff towards the lower landmasses, it was towards the life her and her team had to live on. Away from the place that put those bands on their arms. Away from Kumo.

She fell, and she didn't look back.

:: ::

And here's a stunning fanart by exgorgitation on tumblr!

amazing art by prikachuu on instagram!

awesome art by noob.sama on instagram!

and stunning art by AwesomeDragonTamer!