After some searching, Hazō found Noburi sitting by the river, staring blankly into the water with one hand submerged in a disconcerting claw-like pose.



“Hi,” Hazō said awkwardly.



Noburi nodded, the movement slight and largely concealed by his hunched-over posture. The aura of gloom around him was dense enough that he could probably have used it to channel Vampiric Mist.



Hazō had suspected this might happen. He’d thought about it, drawn up a couple of brief lists (they’d need to buy more paper soon), and finally decided that a comprehensive debriefing, to say nothing of deciding on long-term plans, wouldn’t be on the cards while his teammates were immersed in their various kinds of unmistakeable unhappiness.



“Listen, Noburi,” he began, “I just wanted to tell you that you did a great job back in Hot Springs.”



Noburi looked up at him, eyebrows raised.



“You’re the one who scanned Jōtarō’s chakra and warned us that he was a jōnin.”



“And a fat lot of good that did,” Noburi muttered.



“It was essential!” Hazō exclaimed. “Can you imagine what would’ve happened if we’d gone up against Jōtarō in a straight fight? Or if Inoue-sensei hadn’t known to disable him with genjutsu at the earliest opportunity?”



Noburi shrugged. “Point.”



“And you’re the one who disabled Yami quickly and quietly, giving us time to find the message before Jōtarō noticed something was wrong.”



Noburi shrugged again. “Don’t tell me Inoue-sensei couldn’t have done the same with taijutsu. And it’s not like finding the cypher made a difference.”



Hazō felt a twinge of annoyance. “Saying that you shouldn’t be praised for your accomplishments because things didn’t work out in the end is like saying that nothing you do matters because eventually everyone’s going to die anyway.”



“Sounds about right to me,” Noburi said, returning his gaze to the depths of the river. “I don’t know why I’m even here.”



Hazō fell silent. His contingencies list had not covered “existential angst”. What did you say to a statement like that?



“You saved us,” he eventually said. “If you hadn’t kept our chakra up during our escape, we might not have made it out. That has to count for something.”



“Exactly!” Noburi said, pointing a finger at him. “Wakahisa Noburi, the amazing chakra battery! All the things you’re talking about, I’ve done thanks to my Bloodline Limit. Other than that, I’m interchangeable.



“Especially to her…” he added under his breath.



“You’re not interchangeable,” Hazō said with a quiet intensity. “You saved Akane. That medical knowledge? That was all you. Your individual skill. Nothing to do with being a Wakahisa.”



Noburi blinked. “I… suppose it was.”



He gave a faint smile. “Thanks, Hazō.”



Hazō could see Noburi's spine straighten slightly.



Hazō sat down next to him, cross-legged so as not to get his feet into the water. “Do you want to talk about… what Keiko said?” he asked hesitantly.



Noburi gave him a wry look. “Why bother? It’s not going to change anything. I mean, I always knew I didn’t have a chance against Inoue-sensei, but I thought… you know, I thought if Keiko and I got to know each other better, if we kept getting closer, then maybe someday…”



He looked at the river, where a chakra-drained fish slowly floated past, the ghostly pallor of its white belly only exaggerated by the sunlight.



“But apparently I couldn’t even have that. I guess we were never really friends. Just… what? Allies of convenience? Tools to make sure she survived to have her happily ever after with Inoue-sensei? I don’t want to believe it, but we heard her loud and clear. That wasn’t her normal voice, where she carefully picks out every word as if she’s on trial and the sharks are already circling beneath her feet. That was straight from the heart. ‘The only thing she still loves’.”



Hazō listened silently. It wasn’t like he had anything to say that would help, not when he himself couldn’t stop Keiko’s words from echoing in his mind. But at least maybe he could be there for Noburi by giving his friend a chance to vent.

​

-o-

​

“Inoue-sensei, can I talk to you for a second?”



Inoue-sensei’s expression was sardonic. “Already doing your rounds, Hazō? Checking in with your team and managing their psychological states is important for a leader, but you do need to learn to be more subtle about it. Acting like you care about people only works if it doesn’t look forced.”



Hazō flinched.



“Sorry, Hazō,” she said wearily after a second. “That wasn’t fair. You’re doing a great job for a thirteen-year-old. Honestly, you’re doing my job. I should be grateful.”



She reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. In a moment of horrified realisation, Hazō became aware that her hand was moving slowly enough for him to dodge. He felt like the ground was dropping out from beneath his feet.



He was frozen for only an instant, but that instant was enough for Inoue-sensei to reach him. She ruffled his hair with extra vigour, as if to make up for her brief lapse.



“Showing people your weakness is a great way of getting them off guard,” Inoue-sensei said. “A free tip from me to you.”



“Inoue-sensei,” Hazō said reproachfully. “I did actually have something to talk to you about.”



“Oh?”



“The self-sacrifice thing. All of us truly appreciate the fact that you’re prepared to go that far for us – but please don’t. We’re just as willing to do the same for you, and that means trying to keep us safe at the cost of your own life isn’t going to work. At worst, it might mean somebody with lower chances of survival than you ends up making the sacrificial move.”



Inoue-sensei looked at him. “Hazō, if there was a kunai with an exploding tag flying at Noburi and he couldn’t dodge, would you throw yourself in front of it?”



“I would,” Hazō said, a little to his own surprise.



“Why?”



Hazō had to stop and think. It felt like the obvious answer, but speaking rationally, it didn’t make much sense. He should have been assessing the situation in that hypothetical scenario, figuring out who had the better odds of survival and who was more necessary in order to preserve the team as a whole given the particular conditions involved. Making important decisions on instinct got people killed. It was one reason why the best shinobi were supposed to be the ones who killed their emotions.



Even so…



“Because he’s my friend and my teammate,” Hazō said, “and I’m responsible for keeping him safe.”



Inoue-sensei nodded.



“I’m not suicidal, Hazō. I have a very fine will to live, one of the best. It’s why we’re not currently decomposing corpses in the Swamp of Death. But I’m also your leader, and I have a responsibility to all of you. If I’m the only one left standing at the end, it’s not because I’m the best at staying alive. It’s because I failed you.



“Besides,” she added distantly, “it’s too late for me anyway. I don’t know if I’d survive being on my own anymore, in one sense or another.”



“Inoue-sensei,” Hazō said. “I know I can’t talk you out of feeling this way. But at least please try harder to look for other options. We all want to support you if you’ll let us. We’ve been training to react to changing circumstances without direct orders, and we can train harder. We can come up with tactics to help when you’re locked into genjutsu. No, we will come up with them. Please help us help you. I don’t ever want to see another situation where somebody nearly dies because we weren’t prepared enough.”



Unexpectedly, Inoue-sensei laughed. “The Academy instructors are morons. I can’t believe they filed your profile in Category 7 when they should’ve been fast-tracking you to chūnin squad leader. You’re passionate and intelligent and earnest, and it’s only going to take a little bit of polish to turn that into irresistible charisma. Mark my words, little Hazō, in a couple of years the ladies are going to be all over you. I hope for Akane’s sake that first girl wins.”



Hazō gave her a relieved but also confused look. “I can tell that you’re teasing me, Inoue-sensei, but apart from that I have no idea what you just said.”



Inoue-sensei flicked her hand in the air dismissively. “Don’t mind me. Just a private joke.”



“Yes, well,” Hazō took a second to get his mind back on track, “there was one other thing I wanted to discuss. About Keiko–“



“No.”



The syllable was like a Multiple Earth Wall erupting in front of Hazō’s face.



“I just wanted to–“



“No,” Inoue-sensei repeated.



“Leave it. Just… leave it. You still have to talk to Akane, don’t you?”



And with that, she turned away and began brushing her hair.

​

-o-

​

When Hazō reached Akane, she was sitting in the shade of one of the larger trees, methodically sewing up holes in her green spandex training suit.



“Oh, Hazō-sensei. Crazy couple of days, huh?”



“That’s one way of putting it,” Hazō agreed with more than a little incredulity.



“You’ve been a great help,” he went on. “I wanted to make sure you knew that. Your stealth and trap-disabling skills really impressed me, and your taijutsu’s coming along very well – I mean, none of us could deal with that second jōnin, but you definitely came closest.”



“Stop it, Hazō-sensei,” Akane laughed, “you’re making me blush.”



“But the thing with chakra exhaustion was stupid,” Hazō brought her sharply down to earth.



He surprised himself with the emotions that began to flow out as he berated her. “Do you know how frightened I was when I thought you were going to die? What were you thinking? How are your teammates supposed to support you if you don’t tell us in time that something is wrong?”



Akane’s smile vanished. She swept her half-repaired suit to the side, and pivoted around into a posture of abject humility, her forehead touching the grass.



“I apologise, Hazō-sensei. I have shamed you as your apprentice. I promise it won’t happen again. What should I do as penance?”



“Penance?” Hazō repeated. “I’m not asking for penance. Why would I even…? No, never mind.” He tried to remember the right expression. “Um, please raise your head, Akane.”



She did.



“I know you’re trying hard, Akane,” Hazō said patiently. “I respect that. But please don’t try so hard that you end up killing yourself. There’s nothing youthful about failing to respect your limits.”



“Yes, Hazō-sensei.”



They looked at each other in silence for a moment.



“Hazō-sensei, I promise you, I will do better from now on. You don’t have to keep looking at me with that worried expression.”



Hazō hadn’t realised that was what he’d been doing.



“Oh, sorry, Akane,” he said. “It’s not that. I was just thinking about Keiko. I keep wondering if she really meant–“



“Of course she didn’t,” Akane replied immediately.



“But she sounded so emphatic,” Hazō said. “What if–“



“Hazō-sensei. People who are upset say things they don’t mean all the time. Especially people who are in love.



“Which, by the way, I never saw coming. I thought she and Inoue-sensei just had one of those intense same-sex master-apprentice relationships.



“But my point is,” Akane stood up, “you can’t let your faith in her be shaken as soon as there’s an incident like this. Hazō-sensei, you’re my master in the art of youthfulness. What does the spirit of youth inside you have to say?”



Hazō had no idea. Whatever Akane thought, he wasn’t the bearer of some special insight. Back in the Liberator’s village, he’d said things to her because they needed to be said, in that place and at that time, but for the rest of it, he was nothing but a fraud, and he half-suspected that Akane knew that. Still, she was looking at him with those wide, hopeful brown eyes…



Hazō cleared his throat. “It is youthful to believe in one’s friends, and to stand by them no matter what. Even if at times your friends hurt you, youthfulness is to treat that pain as the pain of hard work, and find new ways to deepen your friendship in the process of overcoming it.



“That’s why,” he added after a pause, in a slightly different voice, “we make the effort to communicate clearly with each other even when it’s difficult and makes us feel vulnerable.”



Akane beamed. “This is why you’re my master. Even when you’re not feeling youthful, you can still come out with wisdom that would awe even him.”



Hazō tried hard not to squirm uncomfortably.



“So that’s that,” Akane said. “I don’t for a second believe that Keiko meant her confession to come out the way it did. But even if she had…



“If you think your bonds are broken, then all you have to do is rebuild them. Or if you think they were never there, then build them for the first time. I believe in you, Hazō-sensei.”



After a pause during which she studied his face, she took a step forwards.



“Would you like a hug?”

​

-o-

​

“Has the Polemarch responded to my request to be assigned to the front lines yet, Pandā?”



Pandā swept his tail nervously back and forth across the ground. “It hasn’t even been ten days, Keiko. This is an important decision, you know? We’ve only got the one summoner, and if we lose you, we’re going to be back where we started, only you’re really cool so it’ll be even worse than when Ui died. I hear the guy was a bit of a jerk.



“Anyway, I don’t think he’ll agree. No offence, but you’re not really as tough as our stronger warriors, and as a summoner, you’ll be way more useful to the clan out in the Human Path, gathering intelligence and setting forests on fire and stuff.”



His summoner seemed to ignore this. “What about the other clans? Could I serve an allied clan on secondment?”



“I don’t get it,” Pandā said. “Weren’t you supposed to come here to recruit new warriors, not be recruited? And weren’t you supposed to go home after a day?”



“She sent me away,” Keiko said flatly. “She literally put me at arm’s length and then sent me away. If she’d truly meant for me to accomplish something in as little as a day, she would have given me specific instructions. Instead, she simply removed me from the group. I believe the message is quite clear.”



“Come on, Keiko,” Pandā said in his best stab at a reassuring voice. “I’m sure your matria— team leader wouldn’t treat you that way. It’s not like you’ve offended her or anything, right? Right?”



“She has to consider the good of the team,” Keiko said. “And having a lovelorn teenager following her around is not good for the team."



Pandā's thought process ground to a halt.



"What do you...?"



“I never intended to tell her,” Keiko told him. “I am not an idiot. I have always known that I was not good enough for her. She is radiant. She is everything I could hope to be and more. She saved me and never said a word about my debt. I am barely worthy to stand in her shadow.”



“Keiko, I’m sure that’s not—“



“I am under no illusions,” Keiko spoke over him, her voice empty and cold. “I am no suitor to her, nor could I be. I am a child. I cannot even offer my body to her, never mind trying to impress her with qualities I do not possess.



“I kept telling myself that it was enough just to be by her side, and now I have lost even that. If I went back, all that would await me is either pity or contempt. She is all I had left, and now I have nothing. Why shouldn’t I stay here forever?”



Pandā couldn’t stand to hear Keiko’s words. It was wrong, like having your scales groomed backwards only worse. His confident, brave, ingenious summoner couldn’t be like this. And why couldn’t he think of the right thing to say? Surely there was something he could come up with, if he was just a little bit smarter, that would make her feel better and help her fix her problems.



“What about the rest of your team?” he tried. “You are very important to them, and they would be very upset if you didn’t come back.”



“They are not my friends,” Keiko said more quietly. “At first, I was too lost in myself to be interested in them. Later, I began to reach out, incompetently, and made progress only through their patience and inexplicable affection for me. But I do not have the kind of friendships with them that they have with each other, and now I never will. Such bonds as we had have been irreparably damaged by my failure to articulate my feelings. I could tell as much from the way they looked at me.



“Besides, now they know. And they have never seen her real self the way I have. How can they think it anything but pathetic that I fell in love with the first person to show me kindness in a time of need? Will they hate me? Will they look down on me? Will they be disgusted that I love somebody of the same gender? I do not want to find out.”



Before she could go on, mercifully, there was a knock from above, and then a breathless courier rushed down to the first level of the Summoner’s Burrow.



“A messenger from the Toad Clan just delivered this letter for the Pangolin Clan Summoner. She said it was urgent.”



Keiko unfurled the letter, and scanned the contents. Her face took on a whitish colour that indicated blood flowing away from the brain, and thus either horror or arousal (Pandā couldn’t remember which).



“What is it?” he asked neutrally.



“All of you are to come to the Three Pines Inn in Amanoshi, Rice, within the next three days.



No absences. No delays. No excuses.



J.”

​

-o-

​