Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can. ~Arthur Ashe
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"Oh, Shikako," Mum said with a sigh.
I braced myself for the scolding. I'd dragged my feet returning home because of it, ugly anticipation twisting in my gut, but there was really no way to avoid it forever. I'd just have to suck it up, sit quietly, and nod.
"Come and sit down," she said instead, patting the couch beside her.
I padded over, feet silent against the tatami floor.
At least Shikamaru was upstairs, and not sitting there watching with his stupid smug face. I didn't need to know his opinion on this too.
"You look miserable, my girl." Her hand brushed the bangs off my face. "It's been a tough few days, hasn't it?"
I blinked. That wasn't… that wasn't to script.
She exhaled. "I wish your father were here. He'd have had this all sorted out before it even became a problem. But I'd be a poor mother if I relied on him for everything."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, tilting my head in puzzlement. This wasn't what I had prepared for. I didn't know what to say.
"Tell me what's wrong," Mum said gently.
I frowned. "But you know what's wrong." Of course she knew. Kofuku-oba would have explained. Heck, she'd probably been the one to receive the reprimand on my behalf, if it had been delivered to the clan.
"I know what happened," she corrected patiently. "But I don't know what's wrong."
"I don't either," I said, voice suddenly very small. Why did someone else saying it make it so much easier to voice? "I don't… I don't understand. Why am I in trouble this time? I've made bigger seals than that and no one cared."
I'd spent years fluffing around with explosives, for crying out loud. Sometimes around clan heirs. And it had never garnered anywhere near that kind of response. Parental supervision, yes, but we'd never been in trouble for it.
"Oh, sweetheart." Mum's eyes filled with understanding, and she wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "You know, when I got married, there were a whole lot of things that I had to learn about how to live in a clan. And it wasn't even the big things that tripped me up, because I knew to watch for them. But there were some things that were so common that no one ever thought to warn me about because they were so obvious. It was their mind set, the way they'd grown up… and I hadn't."
I leant against her, listening, even if I couldn't quite see the comparison.
"You might have grown up in a clan," she continued. "But you were trained for the field, not the hospital or research labs. I don't think they quite understand how different that is. You wouldn't throw a medical ninja in the field without more training, and they shouldn't have expected you to do the opposite." She sounded quite firm about that.
"I don't…" I trailed off. Was there something there? Something that was so obvious that I didn't see it? Staring at me, right in front of my face? I was no stranger to having a perspective that was just a little too different to see all the right things.
"For you – and for me – a seal is a weapon," she said. "You can use it in battle, or in training, or you can pass it to a friend… it can be dangerous, yes, but that's what weapons are."
I nodded. The analogy was apt. It was so apt it wasn't even an analogy. Seals were jutsu were weapons. It was how you used them that made them dangerous, absolutely, and a kunai could cut dinner as easily as an enemy… but it was a weapon all the same.
"But for medical ninja, that's not how they see it." Mum glanced at me. "They see seals as more… like medicine."
I frowned.
"Everything in the hospital is controlled, before it ever gets used on a patient," Mum said.
I nodded. I knew that. I approved of that. Health standards and quality control and all that sort of thing. It wasn't quite like the system I was used to, since you still had things like the secret Nara Medical Encyclopaedia and ingredients and medicines were still secret. But the clan was trusted – entrusted? enforced? – with ensuring that the medicines and ingredients we used were up to standard, and did what they said they would do.
It might not also have been strictly true, since medical ninja were a lot more likely to employ on the spot inventions and experimental drug treatments in response to extreme injuries.
"Well, that doesn't just apply to the medicine itself. Fuuinjutsu is also very common at the hospital, as a tool for the medic nin to use. So they're also very strict about the quality of the seals that they use."
"Oh," I said, as I understood. If they considered it the equivalent of handing out untested drugs, then yes, I could see why they made it a big deal. It wasn't the same but… "It was because I was at the hospital."
"And because you work for the research division," Mum added. "Even if you weren't doing it directly for them, you're still affiliated with them and have to follow their rules."
Which meant that if I hadn't been working for them, but had done the exact same thing… would it have been such an issue?
Maybe. Maybe not.
I slumped even further, feeling exhausted.
"Kofuku and I never exactly got along," Mum continued, and I knew that. Mum and Dad getting married had been a Thing, capital T, and relations inside the clan hadn't exactly thawed out until Shikamaru and I were born. That was probably due more to Shikamaru than me. Everyone wanted a strong heir.
"But she is the best person to be running damage control on this," she said, smoothing a hand over my shoulder. "It won't turn out too badly. I don't expect you'll get more than a warning for it."
I heaved a sigh. "It's just… troublesome," I complained.
It was easy to forget – and I was guilty of this – that mum nagged because she loved us and we were miserable at actually doing the shit she told us to do, not because she got any particular joy in repeating the same thing over and over again. We'd have been worse off if we didn't have her constantly prodding us into action.
It was probably a good thing that mum had talked to me first, because when I headed to my room, I found Shikamaru sitting at the top of the stairs.
I'd sensed him – but I'd rather thought he would leave before I got there.
It was clear that he had heard us… and that he'd had the same thought that I had.
If I had not been in the research division, would I have been in trouble now? And… who, exactly, was responsible for the fact that I was?
He looked stricken.
I was angry with him. And hurt that he'd tried to undermine me. And exasperated at the whole situation.
But he was still my brother - he was still the boy that had fought a god for me and won - and I still loved him. I didn't want him hurt or upset. Not even when I was angry at him.
"Go to sleep, Shika," I said, sighing. "They'll fix it."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"You're not, really," I contradicted, quietly, because I knew that underneath the guilt he still thought he was right. Maybe, from his point of view, he was. "You're sorry it went wrong." I stepped past him, bumping his shoulder gently. "I'm tired. I really want to sleep."
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The hearing was set for the day after my mission officially ended, which was a mixed blessing. On one hand, I didn't have to quit my mission, or be suspended, which was what I suspected should have happened if the situation had been a little less muddy. On the other, it was awful to have so much time to consider it, because there was nothing I could do to prepare or change the outcome of it – it just hung over my head like a very pale imitation of the sword of Damocles.
I spent the rest of the week intensely introducing Yakumo to the idea of 'normality' or whatever that was, trying to get her re-involved in the village and its people. We went shopping, to the onsen, went training, met up with friends… I wanted her to have things to fall back on when I wasn't constantly around. Also, it was better to have first meetings in a semi-controlled setting, just in case.
Not that she'd had another … event, anyway. I wondered how many she had had before they'd decided to seal her power away. Surely it couldn't have been that many. Yes, the one I knew about had been destructive, but since then there had been a single one while we were in the middle of a fight, and talking about her parents death.
You could hardly blame her for feeling a little threatened there.
"I yield," Yakumo said, gasping, as I pinned her to the training field ground.
I pulled my forearm away from her throat. I had restricted myself to taijutsu, which was why I was in so close, in order to keep it a little fair. I hadn't forbidden her from using genjutsu, but I'd made sure it was damn difficult for her to do so. Her paintings needed a fair bit of set up time, and I just hadn't given it to her. Apart from that, her genjutsu were good, but not unbreakable, and I'd shaken them, even if it had been tricky at times – with layered illusions, or time based ones, or ones that activated as I dispelled the last.
She wasn't bad but, even holding back, I was better.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
She paused. "A little disappointed," she confessed. "I thought I would do better."
"But not worried," I said. "Even when I pinned you down, there was nothing."
"I guess I knew you wouldn't hurt me…" Yakumo said.
Which was a dangerous mind set, really. Because she wouldn't believe anyone was trying to hurt her right up until they did, which was going to be the least appropriate time to work out if she was going to transform into her alter ego or not. But there was very little I could do about that – I doubted she'd believe any of the other Konoha 12 were going to hurt her either, so I couldn't even ask them to spar with her.
Or I could try and convince her that I was… but no. I'd have to go a long way to be convincing and that would break all the trust that had built between us.
I didn't think it was worth it.
I sighed. "Ready to go again?"
The problem with having one deadline looming over me, was that it reminded me of the greater, further off deadlines that I had to deal with. I hadn't forgotten them, precisely, but they were harder, vaguer goals with a nebulous timeframe.
I had tried but there was very little in the way of results. Even linking Aoi to Hidden Rain was iffy – I had no idea if he knew anything worth knowing or if Konoha would give the information the weight that it really had.
What was this compared to that?
I knew what I should have been focusing on, though I could only guess at how. It was just… it had been fun. It had been fun, and interesting, and felt like it would be rewarding to get involved with research. I had gained access to information, that was true, and I knew that would come in helpful with my own sealing, but…
It had been fun.
And now the idea of it filled me with dull dread rather than anticipation.
I had been back to the research division, mostly to complete whatever forms my aunt wanted, and to actually hunt down some kind of goddamn rulebook so I didn't cross any lines again. But it had lost its shine.
I would finish the project I was working on, because I'd said I would, but beyond that I didn't know. All the little things that had threatened to spin off into side projects suddenly seemed less interesting, less important.
I had the Book of Gelel. That was a resource better than most of what I was getting from the clan. If I didn't continue to do research for them, I would still be able to progress in my own sealing. Maybe a little limited in scope, but I would be fine.
It was a thought I turned over again and again during that week.
"Anko-sensei!" Yakumo greeted happily. "You've returned! Please come in!"
Anko stepped into the house, followed closely by Ino. They were both still carrying packs strapped across their backs, having clearly come straight here. Ino looked… not happy, exactly, but confident. Settled.
"Welcome home," I murmured. "How did it go?"
Ino smirked at me. "That's classified," she teased. She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. "But you know, we made a new friend. Brought her home with us. Her name is Isaribi; she's at the hospital getting checked out by Tsunade-sama right now."
Despite the teasing tone, she seemed to be serious. It was actually classified, then? Had it evolved to be classified? Or – no, I didn't know what their mission had been in the first place, did I? Land of Sea, but what and why…
"Oh, no, is she seriously hurt?" I asked.
"She's not injured," Ino answered. "She ran afoul of some people who were interested in bloodlimits. You know how it goes."
Ino, with her new found knowledge of Orochimaru and his history. Anko, with her own. A girl with bloodlimit experiments. Classified.
It wasn't a totally secure conclusion. There were other possible explanations. But.
"I see," I said. "That's terrible. I hope she gets better soon."
Ino nodded. "Yeah, she will." She shrugged. "Well, Anko said she was coming here, so I just wanted to swing by and let you know we were back all in one piece. I should go home; have a shower. I swear I've got road dust in my hair."
I smiled. "You'd never notice," I assured her.
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The hearing took place the next morning.
Mum wrestled my hair into twin pigtail braids, rather than its normal single braid, and fished a formal shirt out of my closet for me to wear. I wasn't even allowed to wear my kunai pouch or leg holster.
I looked all of about ten years old.
It seemed that we weren't above taking advantage of my age and relative lack of experience in arguing our side of the case. It wasn't, particularly, that looking young bothered me. It had been a long time since I looked the age I thought I was, and I had recently looked ten. Or eight. Or five.
It was just that it frustrated me, that we had to go through this rigmarole and illusion, rather than simply presenting the facts and having the correct judgement made from that.
"It will have to do," Mum said critically, twitching a piece of hair so that it curled closer to my face.
I gave her my best wide, sad bambi eyes, and fiddled with the sleeves that were a fraction too long and covered my hands.
She looked nothing but amused. "Keep that up and we'll have no problem," she said dryly. "Put your shoes on. Now remember, Kofuku is going to do most of the talking, but if they want your opinion-"
"Then I am very sorry and I won't do it again," I said dutifully, even if I rolled my eyes. I sat and pulled my sandals on.
Shikamaru had left for a mission with Chouji and Kiba during the week, for which I was mostly thankful; otherwise, I knew he would have insisted on coming with us. I didn't think we needed an audience.
Kofuku-oba was waiting outside for us and we headed into town together. I felt increasingly awkward the further from home we went, dressed differently, hair done strangely and on my way to an official meeting.
I fiddled with my too long sleeves.
We entered the tower, Kofuku leading the way and winding through the hallways until we reached a set of hallways signposted as the Judiciary. It wasn't an area that I had been before.
There was a receptionist, to whom Kofuku submitted a set of papers and had a quick and quiet conversation, and a waiting room with a few stiff backed chairs where mum and I took a seat.
Then we waited. It was very boring.
They could have at least supplied us with magazines.
My hands twitched, curling in my sleeves. I hadn't actually brought any of my notebooks with me, so I couldn't even take one out to work on. I suspected that wouldn't have gone over well anyway – hence leaving them behind in the first place.
Well. Even if I couldn't write it down, I could still think. They couldn't stop me doing that.
Sometime later, mum jostled my shoulder, shaking me out of my contemplation and back to my surroundings. Reluctantly, I slid to my feet and followed the two of them into one of the offices.
"Now, Shikako Nara, is it?" The man behind the office desk asked, peering at me through his glasses. He looked about sixty, maybe, hair white with age and face lined. There was no sense of hidden strength to him, or power, like there had been with the Hokage, though he seemed perfectly commanding in this room.
Bambi eyes, I reminded myself. "Yes, sir." I bowed.
"Alright, take a seat." He waited as we did so. "Now the complaint was lodged by the hospital and is a charge of failing to abide by testing restrictions and endangering the health and safety of Konoha shinobi."
Kofuku-oba laid out the situation, neatly and concisely, though she was very vague on the details of what I was actually working on for the clan.