The Inuzuka compound is a sprawling thing. It has to be, with how many people make up their pack, houses and dwellings pepper the mountainside with colorful roofs and the sounds of chatter and barking.
The most central bubble of buildings is where Tsume's family lives; they all dwell in a sprawling manse surrounded by protective thorns. Those bushes around Tsume's house are nearly impossible to get through. They rise tall and enclose the small clearing around the back of their household like a wall of impenetrable green.
Beyond them is a trail that leads straight to the Hokage Mountain and beyond that, the Village of Konoha.
Luckily, Tsume has been working to surmount this obstacle for most of her life, because she refuses to be restricted by stupid things like "rules" and "responsible behavior".
Months of digging mindlessly at roots would finally bear fruit today, regardless of any adult judgment Tsume will escape and achieve her goal of visiting Konoha, all on her own.
She huffs as the bush tugs at her fur.
Tsume's not supposed to enter the Village without her mother or an older Inuzuka present, but Tsume is almost six years old, almost of an age when she can Choose.
Practically an adult, she reasons
"Tsume," Kuromaru whines behind her, trotting anxiously in place, "we're not supposed to leave the territory."
"You're being stupid," Bashira says, "we're not going with you."
Tsume scoffs, her littermates are a pair of scaredy-cats.
"Whatever, stay here and play temari games or somethin'," she woofs with success as she clears the bush, shaking out her fur and becoming two-legged in a puff of steam, " I'm going to get sweeties."
Tsume turns to grin widely at her siblings through the gaps in the foliage.
Bashira groans and there's a shuffling as she turns her back on the bush to grab their brother's ruff.
" Fine ," the other girl snaps, "don't come cryin' to us when you get scruffed and have to help Uncle Taiji with his pots."
Tsume's nose wrinkles.
Uchiha Taiji is not an Inuzuka, which means he's practically scent-blind. Her mother had explained it to her the last time she'd complained about helping him lacquer and fire his stupid little clay pots.
It's smelly and makes her nose itch terribly, she had whined under her mother's amused smile. To make matters worse the pots rarely come out nice and pretty like the ones she sees in the market.
It's her favorite time of the month, when she can beg her mother to take her into the crowded streets of Konoha and she can look at all the odd people who didn't have claws or fangs.
Last time they had stopped by a booth with an old man who smelled of dough, sweet red bean, and salty sweat. He'd cheerily greeted Tsume who’d been on her mother’s back, held in place by a cloth sling.
“All tuckered out from a day at the market,” he cooed.
Fatigued, she had done nothing more than blink sleepily at him and snuggle further into her mothers shoulder.
His wrinkled face had creased with the force of his smile as Mama sighed tiredly, like when she tried to nap and Tsume and her littermates would nip at her ears and use her as a perch in their play.
“I’m happy for it,” she had commiserated with the man, “she and her siblings are a handful.”
He’d laughed a full, belly shaking laugh.
“My Ami was just the same as a little one,” the man had confessed, “here, for your young ones, shinobi need to eat to get big and strong.”
His face was creased with love as he picked out the cakes set on his counter and wrapped them in a blossom patterned cloth.
Suddenly interested in the proceedings Tsume had squirmed for a better view as her Mama accepted the package with a grateful bow.
“You have my thanks,” Mama said, her words odd and formal instead of the shortened and accented inflections their family favored.
The cooked dough had flaked pleasingly in her mouth, accompanied by the sweet taste of red bean when her mother carefully unwrapped the gift and handed her a piece of one of the cakes.
Tsume couldn’t just wait for the next market day to come around to eat some more.
She giggles as she hits the rough-hewn stairs of the Hokage mountain. Mama says they were made using jutsu, because the edges look like the cliff face had popped out like a drawer to reveal the steps they use.
She leans her weight forward and shrieks as she has to move her feet faster to keep up with the momentum.
She scrambles to put her hands to the ground, her shoulders and hips shifting pleasantly as she takes the landings at a near sprint. She only just remembers not to shift form so she can navigate on her four paws.
She twists as she comes to the second to last landing, narrowly avoiding crashing into a young couple. The woman reaches out and catches her in a strong, calloused hand before she can stumble over the edge and take a more direct route than the last flight of stairs.
“Be careful,” the woman scolds, hand releasing her tight grip.
Tsume simply grins, flashing her fangs daringly before scampering for the last of the steps.
“Thank you!”
“Don’t run on the stairs!”
The voices of the couple faded quickly as Tsume’s feet slap onto the bare road and she dashes into the streets.
The buildings of Konoha rise around her like welcoming jaws, studded with twisting teeth made of stacked houses built around welcoming trees. Soon, Tsume is consumed until she can’t even see the mountain. Pure chaos assaults her nose; of oil, manure, human sweat, and the hum of chakra traveling along the poles and wires lining the streets.
It is midday, which means people bustle through the streets and oxen moan occasionally as they clop along, tugging carts and wares for their masters.
The cacophony is intoxicating; the braying beasts of burden, the chatter of people, the rush of steps and scents nearly lifting Tsume off her feet.
She hastily tucks herself onto the side of the road to avoid being trampled, trembling and suddenly not as sure as she had been when she had come down the mountain.
She shakes herself free of the doubts before they can find purchase, straightening her tunic and sniffing at the fur ruff around her collar. In it is the scent of the forest and her family, as if they stand there at her back in her adventure.
Along the road are the wooden poles her Mama never let her near.
She dodges around legs and hooves to cross the street.
Tsume stops by one and sniffs curiously at the ring of paper and ink that encircles the wood. She looks up as the unique mix of chakra and writing invades her senses, making her mane bristle before she hurriedly pats it down. Unlike Bashira and Kuromaru, her two-legged form retains the fur on her head instead of it separating into more human looking strands of hair.
Above her rings of writing cling to the pole before reaching the top, stopping below where metal cones, wrapped in thick cable, stand tall.
She follows the lines with her eyes and sees them attached to another tall pole, this one with an odd box that has wires trailing directly into the ground. On and on the connections go, alongside roads and buildings, accompanied by a buzz that tickles Tsume’s eardrums.
Fascinated, she reaches past the grating shielding the wiring of one of the mysterious boxes, nose twitching.
A calloused grip encloses her wrist and she yowls indignantly, lunging to nip at the offending appendage without thinking.
A swift hand catches her by the back of her tunic, hooking just right that the straps of her undergarments dig across her chest and thighs.
She goes limp on instinct, effectively scruffed.
There is a startled pause, like the person grabbing her didn’t expect her sudden acquiescence, before she is lifted higher into the air.
Red.
Tsume blinks.
The person blinks back.
“You’re not an Inuzuka,” she states, confused by the thin streaks of red on the man’s cheeks and chin, almost fangs like the ones on her own face. How would he ever even fit his mother’s history on such a thin slice of skin?
The man raises a snowy eyebrow.
“And you are,” he replies drily, “where is your parent Inuzuka-kun?”
Tsume turns her gaze away and crosses her arms. She makes a vague sound, a slurred “I ‘duh ‘no.”
The man stares at her and she continues to avoid his gaze.
He sighs.
Tsume squeaks as she is tucked under an arm, pressed against thick cotton with the hard click of chainmail sounding in her ear as the man starts walking through the crowds.
“Hey!” she protests.
The man hums absently in reply.
She wiggles slightly, testing his grip and finds it depressingly firm.
“My Mama’ll beat you up if you don’t let me down,” she threatens.
She’s not really trying to escape, because she’s in Konoha and anyone who is part of Konoha is like an extended pack.
At least, that's what Mama says.
Honestly, she convinces herself, it’s like being scruffed by some of her more distant uncles. The kind who can’t pick her litter out of a line-up but would offer her bone marrow treats and chewing blocks with fondness, regardless.
His chakra has a watery scent to it, briney, like saltwater fish that Mama gets occasionally.
“And your mother is?” he prompts.
Her lips seal shut and she shakes her head vigorously. It would be even worse for her if she let Mama’s name slip.
She pauses.
What is her mom’s name?
Her cousins call her mother something other than Mama, right? Tsume knows they do, but they don’t speak much in the compound among the pack. It’s always the silent noise they make towards eachother.
Tsume has never heard the word people use for her mother spoken out loud. She has no translation for Daughter of the Third Crag, Mother of Lucky Three, Five Teeth, and Two Stars . She contemplates this for a few moments.
“Sensei?!”
Tsume grunts as she’s moved, naturally wrapping her hands around the man’s neck as he settles her on his hip in an easy movement.
“Don't be so loud, Kagami,” the man commands, “you’ll disturb the patrons.”
They're in an outdoor seating area and Tsume’s mouth waters as she smells cooking meat and bone drift out from the open doors of the shop. Despite what the man holding her says, it is mostly empty.
“Sensei--that’s a baby!”
The man raises an eyebrow as Tsume finally turns from her inspection of the white fur of his collar. It’s not Inuzuka fur, she notices, it doesn’t spike or bristle under her claws and her spark of chakra.
“I noticed, Saru-kun.”
“Is that an Inuzuka?” asks a raspy voice, sounding fascinated.
It comes from a man, an older teenager, with hawkish, yellow eyes and sharp cheekbones.
“I’m not a baby,” Tsume protests, then bares her teeth at him daringly, “and yes, I'm a Inuzuka.”
The dark-haired boy who ‘Sensei’ had told to not be loud stands and leans in close over the table.
“Would you look at those chompers,” he gasps and his eyes flash red, spinning with three small, black tomoe.
He’s yanked back.
“Kagami,” Saru says, “don't get in her face like that you--.”
“Uchiha,” Tsume crows, pointing rudely at the young man, leaning forward as her perch tries to support her suddenly unbalanced body.
She spreads her hands out beseechingly, to the surprise of everyone around her.
“Do you know my Uncle Taiji?” she babbles, “He’s an Uchiha like you, and his eyes do the pretty, spinny thing too.”
“Inuzuka-kun,” the man rumbles as he tries to contain her squirming form, “please be careful.”
She refuses to relent, starting up a high-pitched, begging whine and making grabby hands at the Uchiha.
He winces at the sound and reaches forward, near instantly, and immediately looks startled at himself.
She yips happily as she grasps at his shirt-collar and bounces into his arms.
“I’ve never met anyone like Uncle Taiji--can you do the spinny thing again? Uncle doesn’t do it a lot ‘cuz he says it makes him tired, but I think he lies ‘cuz I catch him with his pretty eyes when he looks at the Pack Master and when he watches me an’ Bashira an’ Kuromaru play and when he makes a pot that looks better than most of the ones he makes--,” she chatters happily at her new friend as the man with the almost Inuzuka looks sits down with a grunt.
A server comes out and speaks quietly to him before bowing respectfully and running off to the inside of the building.
“Inuzuka-kun,” the hawkish boy interrupts, “what are you doing out of your compound without an escort?”
Kagami sends his friend a grateful look, looking increasingly overwhelmed by Tsume’s nonstop babble.
The girl pauses and looks around furtively. She doesn’t hear or smell her family so she leans forward.
Everyone at the table leans forward as well, in anticipation.
“I wanted pastry,” she confesses, “its called--,” her face twists up in thought, “Imo--Ima--um, gaki--wa--,”
Saru’s face lights up in realization.
“Imagawayaki,” he finishes for her.
She nods frantically in reply.
“It’s my favorite!” she shouts, loud in her enthusiasm, making Kagami wince and jolting her in his lap.
“Inuzuka-kun,” the white-haired man says solemnly, “you are much too young to be out on your own--,”
Tsume bristles and Kagami makes a startled sound as her fur stiffens, her collar poking at his arms while those at the top of her head brush at his chest.
“I am not!” she protests, “I’m practically six, that means I’m old enough to Choose!”
Over her head Kagami is murmuring to Saru.
“No, I don’t know a Taiji, I’d have to ask Hikaku-sama--,”
“Practically six is still not six,” the man refutes her pragmatically, “you let me pick you up off the road without protest, little one,” he reminds her.
“Ugh,” she groans, “but you’re a Konoha cit-cir-person, you’re practically family.”
The man’s brows rise to his hairline and a smile twitches on his lips.
"You were trying to touch an electrical box bare-handed."
Tsume crosses her arms.
"Yeah, so what?"
She doesn't see the problem, she was just curious. It isn’t like she was going to break it.
The hawkish man sighs.
"You would have died," he informs her flatly.
Tsume blinks up at him in shock.
"You're lying," she accuses instinctively, "you just wanna make it seem dangerous, but I was just fine on my own."
Sensei reaches across the table.
"Look here Inuzuka-kun."
He brings his thumb and forefinger together before slowly separating them. The heady buzz of chakra rises in Tsume's nose for half a second and white lightning ripples between the man's fingers.
She gasps in awe, reaching out.
The hawkish man quickly slaps her hand down and she yips, admonished.
"Don't touch it, brat."
"Danzo!" Saru snaps.
"It worked, didn't it?"
"You can't just--,"
"Boys."
The men settle and Kagami readjusts her, his arm wrapping around her middle more securely and keeping her in place on his lap.
"This is lightning," Sensei tells her patiently, "it's what is contained in the boxes of the electrical poles around the Village and it provides power for lights and appliances."
Tsume kicks her legs, drumming her naked heels against Kagami’s knees.
"But lightning starts fires," she says, "and it only lasts for a second, how do you keep it in a box?"
Before the man can answer, a woman with a laden tray walks up to the table. Sensei closes his hand and the light disappears as an assortment of dishes, thick with steam, are placed before them.
Kagami bends over to offer her a smile.
"Chakra," he answers in lieu of his sensei, "and city engineers, but the lighting is still dangerous, even in the box, so people shouldn't touch it."
"Oh."
That makes some sense.
She did almost die.
The thought doesn’t catch in her mind and passes like a silk sheet, leaving only a gossamer sensation in the wake of its passing.
Her litter is called Lucky Three for a reason, mostly being that they had survived her Mama’s pregnancy against all odds.
It was Uncle Naoya’s favorite story to tell, about Mama surviving on her own for weeks in enemy territory, hunting giant cats and fighting off assiduous poison. Only to come to the gates of Konoha and return to her clan with a gravid belly and a determined glint in her eye.
The litter she gave birth to was Tsume, Bashira, and Kuromaru; the strength of her claws, her defiant joy in the face of all odds, and the blackness of the night that she traveled by.
Lucky Three.
“Thank you, Sensei-san,” she says, bobbing her head politely.
The man holding her chokes on a laugh.
Saru looks up from preparing a bowl with meat and rice, lips upturned.
“Sensei, did you even introduce yourself to Inuzuka-kun?”
Sensei looks vaguely embarrassed, setting a bowl of rice in front of Tsume and nudging a plate decorated with pickled daikon and carrot beside it.
“I didn’t think to do so.”
Danzo snorts as Kagami picks a few morsels of meat from the main plate with his chopsticks, carefully shredding it from the bone and placing it on top of the fluffy rice in front of Tsume.
“You shouldn’t need an introduction,” the hawkish man points out drily, “you're our Hokage.”
Tsume wiggles excitedly and reaches to scoop a bit of food with her claws.
“Wha’s a Hokage,” she asks just as Danzo catches her hand and forces a wide spoon into her grasp.
“Use utensils, you brat.”
She blithely scoops an enormous hill of food onto her spoon and mashes it between her fangs. Rice flies and Kagami makes a helpless, disgusted sound as the remains drip onto his lap.
Saru laughs.
“You don’t know what the Hokage is?”
Tsume shrugs and eyes the clean bones that Kagami had peeled contemplatively.
Her bowl was filled to the brim with rice and not nearly enough meat and marrow.
“Should I?”
Spraying bits of chewed up rice onto the table.
Danzo makes a disgusted sound and pulls a kerchief from his robe. Tsume squirms indignantly as he grasps her jaw roughly and wipes at the sauce and bits smeared on her face.
“Chew before speaking,” he demands, “and of course you should, the Hokage is the ruler and leader of our Village, the strongest shinobi.”
Face now clean she turns to gaze at ‘Sensei’ doubtfully.
He doesn’t look strong.
He’s tall, sure, but he’s skinny and his entire face seems to droop slightly with tiredness.
He smells sour and exhausted.
She turns back to Danzo with the same expression.
The man rolls his eyes and sits back.
Kagami bounces his knee and braces her under her armpits, making her gasp in delight at the sudden movement.
“C’mon, Inuzuka-kun don’t be like that, Sensei might not look too impressive,” “ Kagami, you idiot--,” “ but he is the strongest.”
“Okay,” she giggles, “okay, fine, lemme eat!”
Sensei smiles at the sound of her laughter, thin, spidery laugh lines trailing from the edges of his eyes and telling his age.
Saru chuckles and stacks some more meat into her bowl.
She falls on her meal eagerly as the rest of the table begins talking. Discussing how to find her guardians, or taking her back to the compound. Focused on eating her food, once she empties her bowl she reaches across the table and snatches up the bones. Under slightly horrified eyes she begins chewing them and sucking on the marrow.
“--Uchiha Taiji,” Sensei is saying, his expression distant, “I feel that I should recognize that name.”
Kagami shrugs, readjusting Tsume and stuffing some daikon into his mouth.
“I’ve never heard the name before and none of our Clan would marry the Inuzuka, y’know, with their inheritance rules.”
“What kind of rules?” asks Saru.
Kagami grimaces and flicks his gaze away from Sensei.
“It's part of their conditions for joining the Village, any child sired or borne by an Inuzuka is an Inuzuka regardless of marriage status. They only accept those that wish to marry in-- none of them marry out.”
Saru’s jaw drops and he looks to Sensei.
“Seriously?”
The man nods solemnly, crossing his arms.
“It was the only way they would join the Village, one of their only stipulations for service as Konoha shinobi.”
Kagami shakes his head.
“An Uchiha would never submit to that,” he repeats, “our sharingan is too important, especially if her Uncle has activated his eyes.”
Danzo hums.
“So if he married in or was adopted into the Inuzuka Clan, it must be quite the story.”
Tsume’s nose twitches and a scent flows into her lungs.
Fire-smoke chakra and lacquer alongside the scent of hot wind and sour hashish.
“Not really,” a mellow, light voice says from behind them.
“Uncle Taiji!” she shrieks in excitement, before realizing that she is not at home and not being visited.
She turns and yanks the front of Kagami’s top open and burrows herself in the fabric, wincing as she drags her knees over the metal of his chainmail.
Kagami yelps.
Laughter sounds through the air, raspier than her Uncle; the Pack Master.
“Oh no,” she groans.
“Uchiha Taiji, I presume,” Sensei greets, amused, then, more solemnly, “Inuzuka Enma.”
“Senju-sama, I am glad to see you’ve found our wayward puppy.”
“Just Enma is fine,” the Pack Master says, tone light.
“No,” she shrieks as a hand reaches into her hiding place and grabs her by the scruff.
She finds herself hanging in the air, staring into the face of the Pack Master.
He smiles, showing a yellowed, razor-sharp maw.
She ducks slightly under the baring of his teeth and the implicit reprimand.
“Little Lucky Three,” he says as she crosses her arms and pouts.
“I just wanted sweeties,” she complains, “I wasn’t gonna be gone long.”
His bushy, white eyebrows rise and he looks pointedly to the sky and the dipping sun.
Tsume flushes.
“I was eating.”
He hums, keeping her scruffed for a moment longer before throwing her at her Uncle.
Kagami, Danzo, and Saru shout in alarm and there is a clatter as Senju-sama rises from his chair, towering over Uncle Taiji.
She's plucked out of the air and scooped in familiar, gloved hands. His trailing, black sleeves flutter and Tsume giggles.
"Enma," Uncle Taiji admonishes, saying nothing more.
The man shrugs and collapses into a chair.
"What? She loves it."
Saru groans in relief and falls back in his seat.
"Love it or not, throwing children seems a good way to lose them," Danzo snaps before visibly biting his tongue as the Pack Master turns his mismatched gaze to him.
One glittering gold and the other a pale, icy blue. Tsume loves the Pack Master's eyes, she wishes she had inherited them like Bashira.
"I'm fine," Tsume reassures the grumpy man, "Uncle Taiji always catches me."
No one seems comforted.
Uninterested, she begins playing with the end of the braid wrapped around her uncle's shoulders, tracing the silver mixed into the black.
The Pack Master bares his teeth at Danzo.
"See? She likes it."
Kagami knocks a knuckle into Danzo's chest.
"Forget that," then to her uncle, "Uchiha Taiji?"
Taiji takes his eyes off Senju-sama reluctantly and turns to the other man.
"Yes?"
Tsume begins rubbing the end of her uncle's hair across her cheeks like a paintbrush, enjoying the smooth sensation. She wonders if the Pack Master ever uses uncle's hair to paint his fangs.
"What is the story?" the man asks, eyes wide and curious.
Uncle stares at him quietly for a moment before grabbing a chair and taking a seat at the table.
Senju-sama lowers himself as well, eyes still on Uncle Taiji's face and brow furrowed in thought.
Tsume crawls from his lap back into the Pack Master's arms. She nuzzles under his chin and the prickly hairs of his pale beard scratch across her nose and forehead.
He chuffs, amused by her attempts at appeasement.
You'll still be on lacquer duty.
He says silently.
Tsume moans and flops, limp, into his arms.
Uncle Taiji finally speaks.
"I was granted permission by Madara-kun, before--before, to be adopted into the Inuzuka Clan, Hikaku-sama did not feel the need to overturn the order."
Kagami's brows furrowed.
"But your sharingan, to take a wife--,"
Taiji holds up a hand and shakes his head.
"I have not married," his face creases into a sardonic look, "I already produced three sons for the Uchiha in my youth, and my second wife was quite happy to live on her own before she passed."
Senju-sama makes a soft sound of realization, gaze passing between Uncle Taiji and the Pack Master.
"I see," he says softly.
The other three men look puzzled.
"See what?" Saru asks.
Danzo and Kagami look to Senju-sama for an explanation.
The man crosses his arms.
"I will not answer that, you must find the knowledge yourselves."
Saru's eyes spark with curiosity, while Kagami slumps with a groan.
Danzo narrows his eyes at Uncle Taiji.
"Regardless of the sons you might have produced in your youth, it makes no sense to allow you adoption into another clan with the possibility of passing on your bloodline."
Kagami nods along with his friend.
"I should have heard of you, as Hikaku-sama's heir and with how unusual the situation is."
Uncle Taiji shakes his head.
"There is no possibility of passing on my bloodline and I had nothing tying me to the Uchiha any longer."
Saru straightens indignantly.
"Were your sons not reason enough?"
There is something Tsume doesn't recognize in his voice, an old hurt rising to the surface.
Uncle Taiji closes his eyes, looking old and tired in a way Tsume sees very rarely. As if all of his years suddenly weighed on him like an anvil. Her uncle has always been a steady, quiet man, but not exhausted like this, not often.
She leans towards him with a subvocal whine that only the Pack Master hears. The man resettles her in his lap, brushing through her fur with gentle claws.
"If they had survived to adulthood, if they had children of their own? I would have stayed with my Clan for that," Saru leans back looking struck and apologetic, "but they didn't, so I didn't."
Kagami's expression is solemn.
"I feel your loss," he says quietly, with the cadence of a phrase well used and instinctive.
Uncle Taiji smiles, close-lipped and sad.
"You don't," Kagami jerks and an almost offended look crosses his features, "and I am glad for it, they were gone long before this Village was a possibility."
"You are Uchiha Tajima's brother," Senju-sama says, eyes narrow in thought and then his expression twists slightly, "I remember now, your sons they--,"
"--died on you and your brother's blade," Uncle finishes.
Senju-sama's hands curl into fists and his expression goes blank, unreadable.
His chakra-scent ripples like a disturbed sea, the sourness of his aroma increasing.
Uncle Taiji smiles bitterly.
"It makes sense that you don't recognize me, my nephew tried very hard to keep us away from one another."
"It amazes me that Madara thought to do such a thing, I'm sure he would have appreciated an ally in his hate for me."
Uncle Taiji's eyes flare red and spin with his doujutsu as a glare twists his expression.
"Don't presume to know me, boy," he spits and Kagami sucks in a sharp breath.
Uncle Taiji turns slightly to see the rest of the table before closing his eyes and releasing a quiet sigh.
When they open they are back to being fathomless black.
"Madara-kun suffered the company of his brother's murderer and built a legacy with him, it hurt him deeply, but he did it for the dream of peace."
Senju-sama's eyes narrow into a glare as well.
"Yet, he was the one who tried to bring it to ruin and gave in to his hatred."
Uncle Taiji shakes his head.
"Can you blame him?" He gestures to the great wall in the distance, enclosing the Village, "Everything he gave up for peace and still, we are at war."
Senju-sama closes his eyes, glare fading.
"What would you have us do? Turn away from the killing of our people? Hide away from our enemies?"
Uncle Taiji sighs.
"I don't know--I've never known," he admits easily, prompting an incredulous look from the other man, "but I hope our future generations do."
He reaches over and rubs a finger under Tsume's chin, smiling when she leans her entire weight into his palm, grasping it in her hands.
Senju-sama softens.
"Hope is foolish," the man says, voice low, eyes tired, "it will not feed our people and it won't save the dying."
Uncle Taiji's look melts into something like understanding.
He reaches over and clasps Senju-sama's shoulder.
"Tobirama-sama, sometimes, it is the only thing we have."
Tobirama lays a hand over her uncle's for a moment before the men separate.
"Thank you for finding our wayward pup," the Pack Master says, lifting Tsume onto his shoulder, making her giggle.
She slaps at his back.
Uncle Taiji, give me to him.
The Pack Master steps close and shoves her into Uncle Taiji's grip. She proceeds to burrow into his neck and cling like a limpet.
She gives him a comforting lick on his chin and he smiles at her.
"Bye, Lucky," Saru says, still looking slightly shaken.
Tsume shoots him a look.
"My name is Tsume," she corrects him.
Trying to shorten her litter name , really, it's the oddest thing she's ever heard.
"Didn't Inuzuka-san call you Lucky?"
She rolls her eyes.
"Lucky Three, " she corrects, "but my name-name is Tsume, don't be a dummy."
Danzo snorts into his fist while Saru flushes slightly.
"Goodbye, Tsume-kun," Tobirama says before anyone else can get a word in.
He stands and bows slightly to Uncle Taiji and the Pack Master, prompting the other men to scramble to their feet and bow deeper.
Tsume bobs her head in reply, puzzled by the formality while Uncle Taiji also bows, only a bit farther than Tobirama.
"It was good to finally meet you, Hokage-sama," he says.
They walk away and Tsume boosts herself onto her Uncle's shoulder to wave at her temporary companions through the crowds.
They all wave back.
The Pack Master sighs and reaches over to take Tsume from her Uncle.
"What will we do with you?" he grumps at her, speaking aloud for the benefit of her uncle, "Taiji has used up all his words for the week with this stunt."
Uncle Taiji huffs and rolls his eyes.
"Enma."
The Pack Master jounces her on her perch in his arms, making her laugh.
"You hear that? Can't even form a sentence," his voice deepens comically, completely unlike her uncle's, "' Enma ' will be all I'll hear for a month."
"Grampa," she whines, "it wasn't my fault."
"Ah? Not your fault, hmm?"
He turns her and grasps her by her ankle. She squeals as he swings her slightly and then hangs her behind his back.
"Did someone else sneak down the mountain without permission?" he asks as he sways and walks through the crowds, "was it some other puppy that dug up the thorn bushes and left the forest?"
Tsume wiggles, a smile pulling at her cheeks and a playful snarl in her throat. Around her amused pedestrians are making way for them, eyes alight.
"We were out of sweeties," she whines, "I really, really wanted more and Mama isn't going to the market for another week ."
The Pack Master lowers her closer to the ground and she claws at the dirt, shifting her weight and laughing.
Then he throws her into the air. She instinctively twists, so she can land on her feet, but he catches her in his arms.
"Little Lucky Three," he sighs, "I fear you'll meet your end fighting a bear for berries."
She barks in protest.
Her grandfather teases her all the way up the steps of the Hokage Mountain.
"You'll be staying with us," he says as they pass under the trees of the forest, "you're spending the week helping us with chores."
Tsume, having been set down to navigate the forest on her own, falls to her knees and flops to the ground among the roots and moss.
"Can't I stay with Mama and do chores at home?"
She hates being separated from her littermates for so long. It's part of the punishment of helping with Uncle Taiji's pots and doing chores for the Pack Master.
Uncle Taiji scruffs her and settles her on his hip.
"Your mother's too busy with her duties," the Pack Master says.
Tsume moans and goes limp in her Uncle's arms, he effortlessly adjusts to her shifting weight.
" You're the Pack Master, why's Mama doing everything for you?"
He snorts in reply.
"Only in name for those traditional fuckers in the Village--,"
" Enma."
"Of course, love--and only until we get Akahime's eldest trained up to be her face for that."
Akahime, that's her mother's name.
Tsume makes a satisfied noise at having her idle wondering answered.
Hyouga is a bit of an idiot, but Tsume is sure he'll be fine acting as Pack Master for her Mama.
If they can pull his head out of his books long enough to make him care, that is.
Tsume sighs.
" Fine , I guess I'll stay with you and Uncle Taiji."
Her uncle's chest starts shaking with laughter.
"' Fine', she says," barks her Pack Master, "fine? Come here you little brat!"
Tsume shrieks and wiggles out of her uncle's forgiving grasp, taking off into the forest in a burst of steam.
Her paws pound on the dirt as her grandfather chases after her and she hears the sound of her uncle's laughter echoing in the trees.
Her heart throbs, full to the brim with happiness.
She howls, filled with joy.