Fluffy Clouds and a Tinge of Wonder, Chapter 13: Three steps to the left of relief

Konoha could not run without its chunin. 

This is an undisputed fact, though it’s something that most people don’t think that hard about. The sky is blue, the sun sets in the west, and a chunin can always be found in any department save black ops. Even black ops. Someone has to handle the paperwork, after all. 

Most careers are centered around hitting chunin, too. The title of jonin is for the elite. Not just anyone can become one, and if they do, most just stop at special jonin and call it a day. 

My team and I amble through the crowded doors of the mission office, sidestepping around another group of newly graduated genin. They’re from our year, fresh genin corps members. There is no little envy in their eyes when they pass us. 

“Damn D-Ranks. Suppose everyone has to do a couple, just to be well rounded,” Jiraiya grumbles to himself as we enter the large room. There’s a line from the mission desk full of antsy genin teams. Some have jonin, some don’t.

“Looks like all the other sensei had the same idea,” I comment, eyeing the room. 

I’ve never been inside the mission office before. It’s nice, very airy even if it’s crowded right now. The first floor is apparently usually full of genin and chunin. There’s a less populated mission desk upstairs for more discrete missions. The ones that can’t have a room full of nosy shinobi listening in.

The walls are a nice tan color, and the occasional poster or bulletin board decorates it. There’s a great deal of scrolls lining the walls in little cubbies, chunin manning the desk quickly pulling different ones out and offering them to teams. There’s four chunin and they all look harried. 

“Maybe we should go train and come back when the line is shorter?” I ask, but as I speak another team comes through the door behind us. 

Right. It may just be this bad until mid-summer. 

“I want to do a mission, dattebane!” Kushina declares, throwing an arm over my shoulders and shaking me. She’s taking in the whole room like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “Who cares about lines?”

Minato hums in agreement, looking over at one of the propaganda posters on a nearby wall. There’s a very artful depiction of a team of nondescript Konoha shinobi standing tall with dead Iwa nin at their feet. The kanji for “VICTORY!” is written proudly. 

The composition is well done, red and green clashing starkly against each other. 

I wonder who made the art. Looking at it makes me feel a little odd, remembering when my life was only as hard as working through the next contract or commission. Or when another life was like that. The semantics are odd.

“We’re getting a D-Rank— hell, maybe three so we don’t have to come back here too soon. No point trying to worm out of it, Rookie,” Jiraiya says. He keeps glancing back at the door like he wants to leave. His arms are crossed and he’s tapping his fingers impatiently against his bicep.

“Why do you keep calling me rookie?” I ask, bemused. 

Jiraiya spares me a glance and a smile. His tone is chiding. “You’re rookie of the year, aren’t you?” 

One day, I am going to become strong enough to slam his fat head into the ground like Tsunade. Hard. And hopefully his shiny little nose piercing reopens and gets infected from all the dirt. 

He seems to see what I’m thinking on my face and barks a laugh.

So we stand in line and I listen in on gossip. I don’t really mind the wait, patience is one of my greatest virtues. Along with intellect, great hair, and humility. So much humility. Kushina’s arm slides from my shoulders but her hand goes to mine and I take it easily. 

“—you do have to do D-Ranks again, Yuuma-kun. If you don’t want to, then you should be training harder for your promotion.” The Jonin two spots ahead of us is reprimanding one of his students. “You should be glad we’re taking a break from the front.”

“Yes, sensei,” a defeated student replies. I get a glimpse of them in the shuffling of bodies, a young teen with two new graduates on each side. He’s all wiry muscle and scars line his arms.

“What kind of mission do you think we’ll do?” Minato asks. 

“Sharpening kunai is common, isn’t it?” I reply, looking further up the line at the chunin handing over missions. “Maybe we’ll have to ferry messages between departments, I heard one of our neighbors complaining about it.”

“Maybe we’ll go and deal with bandits,” Kushina adds, swinging her hand in mine. There’s a childishness to how she says it that makes me want to frown. 

Killing is so normalized, but often it's rephrased. We aren’t massacring a bunch of starving civilians with pitchforks, we’re dealing with them. 

“No bandits,” Jiraiya vetoes boredly. “No bandits for at least a month.”

“What? Why?!” Kushina shouts, and a few teams look back at us.

“No yelling in the mission office,” Jiraiya orders in an attempt at sternness, scowling. Kushina ignores him. She is very good at ignoring when people tell her to do things she doesn’t agree with. I hope to see her do it to the Third Hokage one day, and a plethora of other annoying old people.

Before she can really make a scene I interrupt. This is an opportunity for information. 

“What do we need to learn?”

Jiraiya pauses, thinking. He roves his eyes over the three of us with clear calculation. 

“You’re already mission ready, Rookie,” he says finally, making Minato twitch and Kushina grumble. “Minato-kun, you’re close behind. You need to work on your tree jumping more and you’ll be fine. Kushina-chan—”

“I’m just as ready, dattebane!” Kushina insists, hand tightening around my own. 

“No, you’re not, you brat. Your taijutsu is fine against a couple civvy bandits, but you can’t stick your damn feet to a wall without taking out the wall. Once you figure that out, we’ll all be drilling tree jumping until I’m sure you won’t break your necks when my back is turned.” 

Kushina starts arguing about how she’s going to show Jiraiya how ready she is, letting go of my hand to gesture widely. Jiraiya, like the twenty-four year old he is, starts arguing back. The room starts to subtly and unsubtly watch them both. 

I’m unbothered. I have proof that our new teacher actually has thought about what we need to be sent off on an actual combat mission, along with actionable steps to get us where we need to be. Survival is possible and so is actual improvement. I don’t have to like Jiraiya so long as he fulfills both of those things.

I edge away from standing between Kushina and Jiraiya and stand beside Minato. 

Minato and I share a look. He frowns, gesturing his head towards the two of them and looking at me like I should be at least trying to stop it. 

“He’s an adult,” I say bluntly, listening to Kushina call him a pervert. She likes doing that, it’s like a button to make Jiraiya act more stupid. 

Minato looks even less happy at my words, because I’m right and he knows it. 

“Is that Jiraiya? The Sannin?” a genin mutters towards the front of the line, peering back at said man. 

“Shut up!” another hisses beside her. They both have the look of genin corps members, hand me down gear and no tall jonin watching them. 

We make it to the front of the line after fifteen more minutes. Jiraiya stops the argument with a hard “Genin, be silent,” that has Kushina chafing but quiet. I stifle the impulse to palm a kunai and settle for tugging Kushina to be on Minato’s right side, furthest from the jonin. 

The chunin at the desk we see is missing a few fingers on her hands. Not a career-ending injury if you’re a almost sole-y taijutsu focused shinobi, but most ninja rely on basic ninjutsu. She could use it still, if she had the right chakra control to change the flow of her chakra—

“Team designation and mission class?” the woman says quickly, impatient. Her mouth is pulled into a frown and bags are under her dark eyes. 

Right. I should focus. I doubt the chunin wants me thinking about her career prospects like a rude voyeur.

“Team Seven under Jiraiya, D-Rank,” Jiraiya says, chancing a grin. It would be more charming if he were less annoying.

The woman quickly reaches back into a cubby without looking and shoves a scroll into Jiraiya’s hands, distinctly peeved. Probably because he was causing a scene but he’s too highly ranked and closely linked to the Hokage to reprimand. 

Jiraiya at least has the wherewithal to look sheepish. 

“Right. Thank you. Come on, kids,” He says, tucking the mission scroll into his flak pants pocket and grabbing Minato and I’s shoulders to steer us away. Mostly because we’re closest to him, and perhaps partially because Kushina would go for his hand with a kunai.

I give Jiraiya’s hand a sidelong glance but let myself be guided out of the room, smelling traces of weapon oil and the bright beacon of his chakra. Being close to people, especially touching them, can make my chakra sense heightened. Jiraiya the Sannin has got an ocean of chakra that comes from more than a decade of honing it. So I can sense his chakra even better than your average person. 

He smells a little embarrassed, the rumbling of earth and trying to hide that rumble. 

He should be, he did just show a room full of shinobi that he argues with children. Insubordinate children who are his responsibility to make obedient little soldiers. It’ll probably be a week’s worth of gossip until the next drama from the front comes back.

The only thing merciful about this situation is that my nose is finally getting used to the blood smell clinging to Jiraiya’s flak jacket. It’s faded since he was assigned to us a week and a half ago, but I’m sure that's only because he hasn’t been sent on any missions outside the village since then. 

I wave hello to a few of the newly graduated genin in the line who I recognize on our way out. They’re all students from the other classes in our year. Orphans, civilians, all just promising enough to fill in empty places in other genin teams. I hope they don’t get deployed too soon. 

Shit. I hope we don’t get deployed too soon.

We exit the doors of the mission office and Jiraiya sighs, letting go of Minato and I’s shoulders to scrub his hands through his hair. I feel a bit bad. Not bad enough to give him a second to breathe, of course.

“When are we being deployed to the front, sensei? Do you have a timeline?” I ask bluntly, stepping to the side so that a trio of genin can head through the doors we just exited. 

The morning sun is rising higher and higher over the tops of the buildings, casting shadows onto the road. The administrative building is only going to get busier and busier as the day goes on. 

All roads in Konoha eventually lead back to the admin building, if a bit winding, and I can see sleepy eyed civilians walking the streets alongside tired shinobi. On a nearby apartment balcony a woman beats a rug, chatting with a neighbor on the next balcony over.

Kushina and Minato both pause, Kushina a little panicked and Minato contemplative. 

“You think it’s soon?” Minato asks, looking between me and Jiraiya. Jiraiya looks skywards.

“It can’t be that soon, dattebane. We just graduated. Right, Per— Jiraiya-sensei?” Kushina says, but she doesn’t sound certain. She fiddles with her thigh pouch, opening and un-opening its flap with a click-click-click. A bad nervous tick, I’ll have to talk to her about it.

Or maybe I won’t. Maybe it isn’t worth killing every little tick and weakness, yet. I don’t know.

I watch Jiraiya say nothing for a few moments, eyes still on the clouds. 

He looks down, gives all of us an imperceptible glance, and then starts walking. 

“A few months,” Jiraiya says casually as we scramble to follow him. He’s pulling the mission scroll from his pocket and rolling it open. 

A few months. Soon. Soon, the mud, the rations, and the death. Soon. 

Something three steps to the left of relief and four steps to the right of grief rolls over my shoulders. Then I see the panicked look on Kushina’s face and guilt joins the rest of the feelings, mixing and unmixing itself. 

Kushina sidles up to me and takes my hand. She squeezes it too tight, the little bones of my hand creaking. I let her. I look at Minato on my other side and realize he’s gotten closer too, watching my face rather than Jiraiya’s back. 

“Then we’ll be ready by then,” I state calmly. I’m not afraid, nor am I particularly panicked. Even if I was, what use would it be? Plan, train, survive. The rest isn’t in our control.

My eyes still hold Minato’s and Kushina fingers grip my hand like I’m going to float away. 

“Not until you do a few D-ranks you won’t be, Rookie,” Jiraiya says wryly, shutting the scroll with a snap and tossing it back without looking. Minato catches it, breaking eye contact with me to do so, blonde brows furrowed. “All three of you familiarize yourself with that scroll, most mission scrolls follow the same format of information.”

Minato does as he says immediately, rolling open the scroll and peering down at it. He tilts it so Kushina and I can peek at it too. 

“All D-rank scrolls are marked with green, right, sensei?” Minato asks. Jiraiya hums an affirmative, still not looking back at us.

It’s something we went over in the academy. Green for D, yellow for C, blue for B, and red for A. 

Suzuki Kyo had asked what color denoted an S-rank. Ryuu-sensei said it was classified. That had only made people more interested in figuring it out. Denial is a very powerful way to make humans want things more. 

Regardless, the structure of the scroll is the same as we were shown in the academy. Rank at the very top, payer and payout after that, whether it’s in-village or out-of-village, and then the details of the mission. Konoha is the payer for this mission, and we’re meant to report to the North Gate for courier work. 

The scroll doesn’t specify what exactly we’re meant to be ferrying back and forth and to where, but that’s probably safer anyways. Even D-rank information carried by genin in-village could be problematic if leaked during a war.

I wish I were born in peacetime, maybe then I’d get to paint some fences instead of carry around documents. Then again, courier work is a good excuse to practice running on rooftops. And it’s less likely to get paint stuck to my clothes. I only have two sets of mission appropriate outfits, and I need them to last until I’ve done a few more D-ranks. 

My eyes flick up to the pay again and I frown. Splitting that much ryo four ways will be troublesome. Minato and I’s apartments are paid for as long as we’re a part of the active forces, but we have to pay for everything else. 

Kushina will probably be fine. If there’s something good about being one of the last Uzumaki, she did inherit all of Mito-sama’s possessions and money, along with any other Uzumaki who kept their money in Konoha’s bank. 

Maybe it would be more financially responsible for all three of us to move in together? But that would be an unequal exchange, considering Kushina doesn’t need roommates to help share costs with. 

Problems for later, I suppose. 

“Courier work?” Kushina comments, squinting at the scroll as she swings our hands together. 

“Courier work. Try not to cause property damage while you’re running on the roofs, Brat,” Jiraiya says, finally looking back at us. Kushina bristles.

“That’s my nindo,” I reply blandly. Jiraiya raises his eyebrows, hair shining gold at the edges from the sunlight. He’s searching my face for if I’m serious. I am. He laughs.

Minato closes the mission scroll in a swift shhhk and we make our way to the North Gate. I try not to think too hard about it when Minato hands the scroll to me, like it’s expected. I tuck it away in my thigh pouch. 

—

The D-rank is about what I expected. 

We’re meant to split up to ferry paperwork from the North Gate to different departments. Some of it is customs paperwork, others are registers denoting who’s been through the gate. 

“By ourselves?” Kushina clarifies with the bored-faced chunin at the gate station. Unlike many of the chunin you’ll see stationed in Konoha I can’t spot any sign of disability or injury on him. To be honest, he has the chakra levels to edge into jonin. 

The walls being safe probably requires shinobi in their top shape. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s also a healthy number of ANBU patrolling the perimeter as well. After Uzushio, that’s what I would do. 

“Why not by yourselves?” the chunin asks. He keeps glancing over at Jiraiya as if he’s surprised. Probably because he’s one of our strongest shinobi and he’s been saddled with ten-year-olds. 

“This is their first D-rank,” Jiraiya says, looking back at us and ignoring the chunin’s unsaid questions. 

The North Gate is by far the most patrolled, on account of the road there leading towards the Ame front. That means most returning shinobi teams come through here after deployment or missions in that region. Lots of injured shinobi, lots of shinobi who may be attempting infiltration, the works. 

The gate itself is massive, taller than any gate really need be and wide enough to allow five wagons through at once. That itself is probably an intimidation tactic. Look how big our gate is, you’re not coming through unless we let you. Punk. 

Or maybe the first Hokage just really liked large architecture. He did order we start sculpting massive faces into a mountain. This would be in character for him.

“Oh,” the chunin says with a blink and a frown. He has a tiny scar on his cheek that pulls at the motion. He’s mostly forgettable besides that feature. “Congratulations.” 

The congratulations sounds much less enthusiastic than it’s supposed to be. I appreciate the candor. 

“We could run one delivery together with Jiraiya-sensei, then split from there,” I offer, tucking my own scroll into my thigh bag. They’re deceptively roomy. I’m meant to deliver my paperwork to T&I, which I think I know the location of. It’s more a building to avoid than to remember the directions to. 

“No,” Jiraiya vetoes casually. “You’ll be fine alone, Rookie. Kushina-chan, I’ll run with you. Minato-kun, you should also go alone.” 

Kushina bristles at being singled out. Minato looks much more composed, if frowning a little. 

“I don’t know where R&D is, Jiraiya-sensei,” Minato says simply, putting his own scroll away. 

Jiraiya sighs. “You can come with me too, then, just once.”

He doesn’t explain why I’m going alone, but I can assume it’s probably for expediency. Maybe some kind of trust in my ability to be a good carrier hawk. Whatever it is, soon I’m being shoo-ed away all by my lonesome while Jiraiya does his best to show Kushina how not to make anyone’s wall explode to get up to the rooftops. All the while the chunin shakes his head and goes back to his post. 

So I go off on a solo adventure. Surely nothing bad will happen to my team while I’m gone.

I shouldn’t even be sarcastic about that. Of course something will go wrong. 

With a running start I jump and land on the wall of a restaurant by the gates. My chakra slides and lattices to stick to the surface, bricks scuffing against my sandals. The earth pulls me closer by my core, making me lurch just so before my core muscles straighten out. With a huff I take off running again, feet propelling me up and over the edge of the wall, landing on the roof. 

The smell of something flavorful wafts up from the business’s chimney making my mouth water.

Being a preteen is awful. There is no respite from hunger, none! And when you do eat, it’s never enough. I should make Jiraiya buy us dinner after this mission. He can afford it. I bet he spends all his money on weapons, paper, and brothels anyways. 

With a shake of my head to dislodge fantasies of gorging myself on expensive barbeque, I pump my legs onwards. The edge of the red, flat roof comes quick, and I’m leaping to the next in a breath or two. The weightlessness in the air is addictive, making me think of my bird henge. I really should work on that more. 

I land solidly on the next roof, orienting myself in the village. If I head straight I’ll eventually end up at the administrative tower, I can see it peaking above the other buildings in the distance. It's round and taller than everything else on this side of the village. It makes sense, I don’t think the civilian district is allowed to build their buildings as tall as the shinobi side. 

The village looks different from up high, new paths opening before my eyes between buildings of differing heights and similarly flat roofs. The landscape is familiar and not. With a glance down towards the street I can see the inns they usually shove travelers into, and down a road from my left I know the redlight district follows. 

Civilians and ninja look so small on the main street below, clumped in groups that seem to flow around one another. A trio of Inuzuka, a few teams of bloodied returning shinobi, a merchant barking orders at his caravan as they head out towards the gates, kids running down the road shouting ninjutsu moves. 

I turn away, settling in for my task. T&I should be in the shinobi district, a few streets off from the administrative building.

Another leap and a dash towards the right. The next few buildings come quicker and quicker, my eyes scanning for good footfalls and leaping points among the laundry lines and unbothered birds. In another village, a human sprinting and jumping past a couple of pigeons would make the lot of them burst off into flight. 

The pigeons of Konoha are too used to ninja. One goes to peck at my sandal indignantly when I land beside it. I squawk, jumping out of range and heading for the next roof. 

Fifteen minutes later and I’m hopping down into an alleyway across the street from what I’m certain is the T&I building. There’s a few men smoking at the entrance of the alleyway, all garbed in grey Intelligence uniforms. All three of them look nondescript, no clan affiliations as far as I can tell. Though one is a little Yamanaka looking around the eyes and cheekbones.

My nose twitches at the tobacco smell, along with a hint of something chemical clinging to the men. It’s a bit bitter and base-ish, like harsh soaps and cleaners. 

One takes a slow draw of his cigarette, then murmurs a quick, “Genin,” in greeting, jerking his chin at me. He’s the tallest of the three, almost slumped against the pale clay wall with deep under eye bags.

I take a little whiff of the air, eyeing him. His chakra feels muffled under the bitter smell, but as I start to walk past I can feel it roll like anyone else’s. 

“Sir,” I say with a nod, unsure of his rank and leery to figure out why they all smell so much like chemicals. I brush past them through the mouth of the alleyway and into the subdued street. 

The T&I building is fairly unassuming despite its reputation and purpose. It also isn’t really called T&I. Not that anyone cares about that. “Torture and Interrogation” is just much more intimidating.

Konoha Intelligence Division is spelled out plainly on a sign on the front of the mostly windowless building. A pair of Intelligence shinobi saunter out of the wide door, one holding the door open for me when she sees me heading to enter it. Probably a bad move optics wise, one shouldn’t look like they’re welcoming in unknown shinobi, even if they’re obviously genin. Especially if they’re genin looking. 

Then again, anyone with bad intentions in this village would probably not want to be anywhere near the division that tortures people. So nevermind. 

“Thank you,” I say politely, noting that the chemical smell I smelt on the alleyway smokers is a bit more pronounced as I enter the lobby. It’s not necessarily an offensive smell, just obvious and making every other smell a little bit duller.

That seems purposeful. There’s many reasons the Intel division would want to hide smells. Both for prisoners with enhanced senses and to hide the smell of the work that is probably done here. I file that away for later. 

The lobby is brightly lit with overhead fluorescents, bearing a small waiting area with uncomfortable looking chairs and a small front desk. There’s two large wooden doors at the back that the occasional shinobi in Intel uniforms walk through. All in all, it’s fairly underwhelming.

“Delivery?” the receptionist at the front desk asks impatiently, tapping a very well-manicured nail onto the desk. She’s a soft looking woman, dressed in pretty civilian clothes, but something is odd going on with her chakra. I can’t parse it well under the chemical smell, but it’s definitely fluctuating…weirdly. She must be a kunoichi.

I quickly draw the delivery scroll from my thigh pouch and step forward, placing it directly into her hand as per protocol. 

“Delivery from the North Gate,” I state, even though she looks like she probably knows that. 

Up close I can feel her chakra far better. Almost as though it’s cycling more…tightly? More condensed-ly. I blink. 

Oh. She’s hiding her chakra levels. I wonder how—

“Do you need anything else?” the receptionist asks blandly, pressing the scroll onto a small seal on her desk. It poofs in a short burst of chakra smoke, making me sneeze. I really should work on stifling my sneezes. It’s too obvious of a tell that I’m a sensor. I just get surprised!

“Sorry, allergies,” I say in a very unconvincing way, unabashedly studying the flow of her chakra. Always better to be obvious about these things. Trying to hide it is much more suspicious. 

She seems to have pressed her chakra more closely together and is making it channel more slowly through her body. It’s very interesting, I never noticed that civilians have their chakra flowing at a slower rate. I should try it out next time I meditate. 

Or ask my sensei about it first. But that feels a bit like cheating, and he doesn’t need to know I know how to do that until after I teach Minato. I’ll probably try to teach Kushina too, but she has so much chakra that it probably won’t help her in subterfuge. 

“Have a nice day!” I say cheerfully, excited at the prospect of a new technique. I start back towards the door. The kunoichi pretending to be a civilian watches me go and doesn’t say goodbye back, which is a bit rude. 

I hum a tune on my way back to the North Gate, twisting through the air and carefully avoiding stepping on any birds. The parkour is freeing in the same way tree jumping is. For a moment I get to be weightless in the air, then the next I’m landing solidly and sprinting into another leap. 

I almost convince myself that the others did fine without me. What could possibly go wrong during a D-Rank in mission?

—

My teammates arrive an hour after me and look suspiciously like they all got in a fight with a campfire. 

“How was you guys’ part of the mission?” I ask carefully, watching Minato brush soot off of his jacket. Kushina is suspiciously silent, and Jiraiya looks like he needs a drink. 

“We’re drilling chakra control for the rest of this week,” Jiraiya says cryptically. “And dodging.”

…Okay. That’s interesting. I look over at Minato, who mouths a grimaced, “Later,” and that’s that. 

“Well, Maboroshi-san said we’re done for the day. I did the rest of the deliveries while I waited for you guys,” I report, gesturing over at the gate guard we accepted the mission from. I’d been pestering him about how gate duty works while I waited for the others to get back. 

Jiraiya hums, reaching over and patting my head roughly. He absolutely gets ash in my hair. And he smells a little bit like cooked meat, which is even more bewildering. What the hell happened? 

“Good work. Did anything interesting happen on your side?” 

“I noticed things about different departments' lobbies, but that’s probably illegal for me to talk about them in public,” I say with a shrug. “Oh, and Maboroshi-san says I should become a gate guard if you’re mean to me, because they’ll all be nice to me.”

“Maboroshi-san needs to scalp talent from somewhere else if he knows what’s good for him,” Jiraiya says, giving said man a little side eye. He’s currently searching a merchant cart for contraband. 

“But he was very convincing, sensei. He said that being a gate guard is the least boring home assignment,” I add dryly as Jiraiya starts walking back towards the village center.

“Because it’s the most lethal home assignment. Alright, all of you come on. We’re turning in this mission as a success, and then we’re done for the day.”

Maboroshi-san also mentioned that, but I like to think that’s a perk of the job rather than a negative. The actual bad parts would probably really be dealing with rude merchants and civilians. But it’s stable, and pays well. Very well after Uzugakure. 

Kushina and Minato file up next to me as we walk, Kushina looking very put out and Minato bemused. 

I don’t ask. Minato said later, and I can wait for later. 

“D-ranks suck, dattebane,” Kushina mutters. Some of her hair looks a little burnt, though the damaged hairs seem to be…mending? I can smell something going on in her chakra. Uzumaki healing factor weirdness. 

“The next one will be better,” I reply easily. Any D-rank mission will probably be better than whatever the hell happened. 

“Not if you’re not there,” Kushina says moodily, glaring over at Jiraiya and then staring out at the village. 

Kushina doesn’t seem to be looking for a reply to that, so I settle for reaching over and brushing ash off her shoulder. The soft particles stain my fingers.

I feel a bit guilty for not being there when they almost got set on fire, but Jiraiya wanted me to work alone. So what was there to be done? I think this mission was meant to be an independence exercise before Minato and Kushina’s unfamiliarity with where the village administrative stuff is put a wrench in it. 

It’s probably fine. Probably. 

Jiraiya pulls us to the mission office, money is handed to us after waiting in an excessive line, and then he says something about escorting Kushina home. Unceremoniously Minato and I are left to our own devices. 

“What happened?” I ask finally, after we make it back home to my apartment. We sit in my little kitchen while I pull out two cold juice boxes from the fridge. I set one before Minato before stabbing the straw into my own. 

Minato fiddles with his own juicebox, not opening it yet. 

“Kushina blew up a R&D project by accident, but it was because the researcher wasn’t being careful. He bumped into her and her chakra jumped and set it off. At least, that’s what Jiraiya-sensei said,” Minato explains.

“Ah. Chakra control and dodging.”

Minato nods seriously. “The entire lobby got pretty burnt. The only reason we didn’t get injured is because Jiraiya-sensei put up a doton jutsu and pulled us away.”

“Seems suspicious that the researcher bumped into her, though,” I murmur, quieter. It could have been clumsiness or intentional. You can never know when a jinchuuriki is the wounded party. 

Fuck. I should have been there. What if Jiraiya hadn’t saved her? I probably could have caught the researcher. I was doing deliveries none the wiser while my teammates almost got killed. 

Minato gives me a long look before responding. He nods. “I thought so too. Jiraiya-sensei looked very angry, and the researcher was too injured by the blast to explain himself.” 

That explains the cooked pork smell. How grim.

Minato looks down at his juicebox, tracing the cartoonish “Apple Juice” written on the front. 

“I shouldn’t have told him I didn’t know where R&D was,” Minato says finally. He looks so young, a frown marring his rounded cheeks. 

“You can’t take personal fault for an accident,” I disagree immediately. “That researcher was either clumsy and stupid, or stupid and trying to start trouble.”

“But it was my assignment, and I would have been able to dodge,” Minato replies, looking up and leveling a too serious gaze on me. “You were able to do your part of the mission alone. I should have just asked for directions.”

“You trusted your superior officer to make a choice, and he did. And he also saved you and Kushina. Whether you should have trusted him is a choice you have to make.”

Minato draws himself up, looking a little sick. “Of course I trust him. I’m not talking about what Jiraiya-sensei did.” 

Right. Military brainwashing. I need to explain this better. 

“The choice you made was to trust Jiraiya to help you with a problem, and probably to pressure him into allowing a combined group of all three of us. Jiraiya then chose to do what he did and just bring you and Kushina. Whether either of you were right or wrong doesn’t matter. The real problem here is the researcher,” I explain carefully, pushing past how unnerved Minato looks at the implication he’s disloyal or something. 

Minato doesn’t stop frowning. “Maybe,” he says, which is the most “I disagree with you but don’t want to fight about it” statement ever. 

I guess if we could logic ourselves out of guilt then the world wouldn’t have as many problems. I sigh. 

“Drink your juice, ‘Nato. Do you want to hear about a new technique I figured out while I was doing my deliveries?” 

Minato looks a bit less defensive, back on comfortable territory. He pulls his straw off of his juicebox and stabs it into the top of it, taking a little drink. 

“What technique?”

I explain the details of what I’m pretty sure is chakra suppression, and I don’t stop thinking about how Jiraiya escorted Kushina home. Or about suspicious researchers. Was it intentional? If so, why would someone try and blow up our jinchuuriki? It doesn’t make sense. 

I take a long drink of my juice box while Minato talks through how we could test the technique, and wonder if I should split off from my team ever again. Maybe I’ll allow it if Jiraiya is there instead. He may be an asshole, but he kept them safe today. I do care more about results than packaging.