The Incendiary

He was familiar with this office at that point, so much so that he had memorised all the cracks on the wall with obsessive accuracy. Truly, between him and the Sannin, he didn’t know who’d spent more time kneeling in front of their supreme leader in the recent years.

“Rise.”

He did as he was told. It came easy to him, just as easy as loving his son, cherishing his friends or treating his pack to a nice meal. In and out, don’t waste a second of your life.

“You wished to speak to me, Lord Third?” A picture of politeness and light amusement. While following orders was easy, he came a long way from the easily intimidated genin he used to be. Bureaucracy loses its fear factor once one is forced to mutilate more bodies than he’s had dinners.

The old man nodded, motioning for the ANBU stationed around him to leave. Sakumo noticed them there, and he noticed them leave. There weren’t many things that could escape him, so he also knew that the specific mix of emotion coming off Danzo were not a good sign. Nothing good came out of a satisfied warmonger. “Your son leaves for the Academy soon, doesn’t he?”

If he thought the line of questioning odd, he didn’t show it. “Yes, my lord,” he pretended to think about the date, even though he’s had it memorised for weeks now, “in few days’ time.”

Danzo’s hand rose, his body language prominently thirsty. “It seems he’s been making quite the waves with his progress.”

Sakumo’s brows furrowed. To oppose the council would be unwise, but, “pardon me, but I believe I’m not here to discuss the prowess of my child, if there are any. That’s for the Academy teachers and our Kage to decide.” He allowed a smile on his face, “I wouldn’t like to boast prematurely, you know.”

“Yes,” the Hokage pushed the brewing matter aside, “we have more pressing concerns. As you know, you are one of our few S-class ninja. And with the still recent losses from waging the war, no matter how glad we are it ended, we are, to put it better-“

“Out of livestock?” Sakumo supplied, ignoring the older man’s bristle.

For reasons more or less obvious, Hiruzen wasn’t much pleased with his newfound funny side. “It’s not like you to be so crass, dear Sakumo.”

He bit his cheek, angry at his leader for taking his time, his precious time, from his son. That’s where he was supposed to be, eating a warm meal and asking about his day. But alas. Nothing good would come from arguing, just more time wasted, more information relayed in heat of the moment, less value to their briefing. “Apologies for making you uncomfortable. The recent bad news had been a little hard on my usually bright sense of humour.” He couldn’t help to stare directly into Danzo’s eyes as he said it. He had to let him know that skirmishes across the border, failed meetings and negotiations and the sheer amount of his comrades coming back mutilated or in a bodybag from simple missions did not escape anyone in the force.

“Alas,” the Kage coughed into his pipe, “we are putting together a tactical squad. The details of the mission will be delivered to you, and your entire team, once the team formation has been cleared. You’ll be invited to the briefing via a classified scroll-

“- and the team, lord Third?” Sakumo interjected brazenly, feeling some discomfort at their information withdrawal. Either they didn’t trust him, or they didn’t trust each other. The first option, he was fine with, even if it insulted him a little. But the thought of his kage and Danzo being at odds with each other in such a critical time was a little disconcerting. Or, he realised belatedly, they were waiting for a catalyst. Something was missing here.

Before Hiruzen could continue, Danzo squeezed himself into the conversation. “Will be comprised of ninja of your choosing. Deliver us the list within the two weeks time.”

Sakumo’s entire face furrowed. “And by a tactical squad, you mean-“

“Infiltration,” to his credit, Hiruzen did looked as tired and pained by this whole ordeal as Sakumo felt, “and elimination of multiple targets. No one must know the identity of the perpetuators.”

He took a step forward. “Why not an ANBU squad, then?” He continued to speak out of line, but the blood on his hands and the way a whole nation hated to hear his name gave him a right to do so, and he’d use that right till he was still of use to them.

Danzo wouldn’t have allowed him such disrespect had he been the one with bigger influence in the room. But alas, it was Hiruzen who he answered to. “High risk. High profile. Long.”

He understood now. They needed trackers. And stamina. And a penchant to killing. And he seemed to want the ANBU home, because they could’ve checked all the boxes, even if stamina might’ve proven a problem. This was different. This was chess, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Shikaku would’ve wanted to, though. His team, even if they were all chuunin now and grown up, would’ve wanted to know why it was that he, a now-made frontline fighter and a war hero, was being sent somewhere into the swamp to hunt something, and the higher-ups couldn’t even tell him what it was- meant even he could leak it. They didn’t trust him, they didn’t trust themselves, that he was sure of now. For the first time, Sakumo entertained the idea that the council and his Kage could be scared.

Something else smelled bad here, aside from Danzo’s obviously shitty day.

So he bowed as low as his dignity allowed him to both of his superiors, nodded to every other information they shared- specific skillset needed, reprimands regarding sensitive information and all the other bull that came with the job. He tried to ignore every little jab Danzo threw his way about his son. He wondered how the Sannin were doing, feeling a little bitter about them not being here- he would’ve loved to pin this on someone else. But along with his genin-like respect was gone his naivety. Hiruzen would never sent his proverbial children to do the dirty work.

And when he left the office, he forgot to collect the onions for tomorrow’s dinner. Again.

…………………

“He’s not the best one for the job. We both know it. If you’d just let me-“

Hiruzen’s cordial facemask fell the moment the door closed behind Sakumo. “I told you, my dear friend. I don’t want to discuss this further. None of it.” He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead with the end of his pipe. He’s been doing it a lot lately, closing his eyes. Truthfully, he wished he could do it more often. The only relief that came was short-lived and felt undeserved- even in his sleep, he could hear all the unfamiliar voices screaming at him to not do it again, to not put them in a position where they could not be saved.

Danzo kept suspiciously quiet, but he liked him like that. He could then pretend his childhood best friend was not warping into something he’d rather not see grow. He knew the boy he loved so dearly was still there and he trusted him with his own life. He just had to come to terms with the way a lifetime of war and violence tainted one’s soul, even if for a good cause.

 “I can hear you thinking from here.” Danzo put his hand on Hiruzen’s shoulder, “don’t venture too far off, we need to talk about Mito first.”

“Oh yes,” he sighed, “Mito.”

Danzo squeezed his shoulder. “How much time does she have?”

“Not long. I should notify Tsunade. She’s her grandmother, after all.”

His friend’s face clouded over, “no time. They will understand.”

And the Kage’s fist came down. “She’s to return from a mission in a short time. I’ll see to it that they say their proper goodbye.” She was, in all but name, his child too. All three of them were, and the world war shaped them too, warped them. He would not let his children suffer unnecessary.

“You’ve always loved your kids. Let the love be shown for the rest of us too, then.” Danzo replied, but did not push the conversation further. And Hiruzen was glad, because he knew. He understood they were all his children and he was their Kage.  Instead, Danzo moved to safer waters. “How’s the Uzumaki child fairing?”

He allowed himself to smile. “Better than I imagined. She’s taking to her lessons well, even to her assignment.”

His companion scoffed mockingly, unable to keep his disdain for such practices out of his words, “ah yes, Mito’s love theory.”

He just wished his friend to be less jaded. Maybe then, he’d understand the grave error of underestimating Mito, or her lifelong experience of carrying a vicious monster inside of her. “The only way to keep the beast in control, is to balance the hate with love. And Kushina, for all her hardships, has an abundance of it. It only grows as she has someone to take care of now.”

“Or sharingan. Or wood release-“ he answered Hiruzen’s silent question with a barking laugh, “I’m just listing all the ways a tailed beast can be controlled.” When Hiruzen opened his mouth, ready to tell him how far off the bullseye was he shooting with this line of thought, Danzo waived his hand with an air of nonchalance, “I’m glad she’s ready. Because we cannot have a tailed beast transfer happening during the aftermath of this upcoming strategic effort.”

“My friend, I’m not sure this is the right-“

“Hiruzen,” Danzo stood a little taller now, “you know this as well as I do. Before Sakumo Hatake leaves, Mito Uzumaki must die.”

…………….

Kinnosuke didn’t speak to Kushina the entire way home. Truthfully, she was preparing what to say. How to even begin this conversation. How does one goes about yelling at their caretaker friend? It felt almost illegal. But not as much as enlisting someone into the army without their consent. Blatantly against it, if she was being honest with herself.

And while Kushina had the gall to look caught off guard, she also appeared to be very sure about her decision. That by itself was infuriating.

As the door clicked shut, Kinnosuke grabbed Kushina’s hand and dragged her to the kitchen counter. She motioned her to sit on one of the chairs, not speaking a word. Only when she did, and they were on the same eye-level, she dared to open her mouth.

“What the actual fuck?” Kushina was immediately ready to defend herself with one of her lengthy, emotional bubbly speeches. She’d have none of that. “I ain’t stop talking. What the actual fuck he meant, academy? I told ya, no that shit. Who doya think ya are? Sure ain’t my mom, are ya? Can’t do that, sign shit and whatnot, can ya? So,  plan on dragging me there with chains?” She was so close she could smell her breath on her cheeks. Kushina was so, so maddeningly calm, only a shadow of what seemed like tears in her eyes. No, she could cry to the god himself for all Kino cared, this was invasion of her own free will. It was violating, she felt violated.

“Your mom is not capable of signing anything right now, Kinno-chan.” Kushina did not move an inch, but her voice was deceptively soft. Terrified. Miserable. Of course, she wasn’t terrified of Kinno- how could her tiny ass frame and non-existent skill repertoire scare someone older, someone with RANK- rank, having rank. Kinnosuke was once again reminded she was talking to a soldier, to a walking propaganda. She felt so betrayed.

“Whatta ya mean?” There was no stopping now. She needed to know, the anger was bubbling over and she had the right to, damn them all. She had the right to feel and exist outside of this four wall prison they put her in- Kushina always by her side, not a moment for herself, not a moment to even think of visiting the woman who, even within the realm of selfishness, saved her from burning to death. She didn’t care for her, but she cared for life. Her own, her so called mother’s.

Maybe she didn’t even want to visit her, she had no need to sit by her bed, they couldn’t even hold much of a conversation- but she reserved that right.

“She’s in a coma. Been since surgery.”

Kinnosuke took a step back. Then another one. She felt her body hit the table behind her, knocking over a bowl of fruit Kushina brought her just recently. With a small laugh, she realised one of the apples rolling on the floor had the most unusual colouring- the dusty brick red bled into a fiery one that clearly received more sunrays, hanging on the right side of the tree. Dazed, she bent down and picked the apple up.

Kushina continued with a newfound determination that Kinnosuke just couldn’t care about. “They are unsure she’ll ever wake up. Bigger chance is, she won’t. But there’s still hope, there’s always hope. I’m so sorry. That’s why the academy, why I push it so much. You have to be declared legally an adult as soon as you can, just to be sure,” she was rushing the words out, tumbling over her own tongue, “so you can be protected, you are an Uzumaki and the fall, and the heavy weight of that, there might be people, you have to know how to protect yours-“

The child ran.