Perfume, spices, expensive tea
Team seven was not a team set up for diplomacy. Shikamaru suspected that if pressed, they might well turn out to be better at it than anyone anticipated, but it wasn’t what they were for and it showed.
That was what team eight was for. Asuma sensei had been very clear about that when he paired them off, and Shikamaru knew why, but that didn’t make it any less troublesome having to run interference on Sasuke’s utter lack of patience with the kind of political toadying that these parties were designed for.
It wasn’t that Sasuke was unmanageable. He had some clan training, he was competent enough in formal social situations when he wanted to be. It was just that the basic social training an eight year old clan kid would have received was not quite enough to balance Sasuke’s natural antisocial tendencies, and of course it was Shikamaru’s job to make up for the shortfall.
“Do you think they know we could kill them in under three minutes if we wanted to?” Sasuke said, casual as anything, as Shikamaru succeeded in extracting them from their most recent conversation before yet another high ranked noblewoman made an attempt at pinching Sasuke’s cheeks. Truth be told Shikamaru was wondering that himself, but admitting it would not help with defusing the murder in Sasuke’s eyes.
Personally Shikamaru had no idea how all these civilian women could look at the last Uchiha and think adorable and sweet and huggable. To his eye Sasuke was a bundle of poorly socialised trauma induced rage with extensive training in violence and a genetic predisposition towards instability. Shikamaru valued Sasuke as a loyal comrade but the idea of hugging him was about as appealing as the thought of hugging a porcupine, and would likely result in more bleeding.
Then again presumably these women were acting on less than complete information, and Sasuke always had been an extremely pretty child. As long as he kept his mouth shut anyway. Some confusion was to be expected, and the correct thing to do here was to take advantage of it, no matter how irritating Sasuke found it.
“If they don’t know that then you are not to remind them of it. This is a diplomatic mission, and if intimidation is required then Asuma Sensei or Hatake sensei will handle it.” Shikamaru sighed, being the voice of reason was a thankless task. Joint missions were such a hassle.
“Hnn.” Sasuke grunted in what Shikamaru was going to choose to interpret as acceptance. No knives were drawn at least.
Shikamaru didn’t dislike Sasuke, he actually had a fair amount of respect for him. Considering the circumstances, he was astonishingly well adjusted, and very good at making sure his problems didn’t become everyone’s problems suddenly, violently, and all over the place. Shikamaru could appreciate that in a fellow highly trained killer. He was just, such an exhausting person to be around. He lived his life at a fever pitch of fear fuelled arrogance and it showed. Shikamaru knew why of course, and he did sympathise, but it was hard work, talking to him, working with him, when his immediate reflex was always to dismiss anyone else’s contribution, and go his own way with only half the information he needed.
Just as he thought that, he realised he’d lost track of Sasuke again. After a few minutes of controlled panic he managed to catch up to him lurking behind a large plant in the corner of the room. Well at least he hadn’t managed to get himself drawn into any conversations while unsupervised, even if he had apparently managed to steal an entire tray of tiny tomatoes stuffed with cheese. Shikamaru swiped one before settling himself in to join Sasuke behind the plant. They’d done enough socialising Shikamaru decided. He was tired and Sasuke had clearly had enough, Shikamaru was making an executive decision that they might as well take a break before they risked causing a diplomatic incident.
He let his eyes drift shut into something that wasn’t quite sleep, he wasn’t stupid enough to fall asleep here. It was a Nara skill, not quite a technique, but something they all learned how to do, listening, maintaining awareness, ready to move if necessary, but otherwise letting his body and thoughts relax, settle and slow to conserve energy.
“The ninja are a complicating factor.” He heard a voice mutter, and felt Sasuke tense beside him as he heard it too. Fortunately Sasuke was enough of a professional not to make a sound as Shikamaru opened his eyes to see if he could identify the speaker.
No such luck. Shikamaru wasn’t nearly well acquainted enough with the Iron Country court to identify either of the well-dressed men huddled in the shadows not five steps away from their hiding place. Too close for comfort really, so he wrapped the shadows tighter around himself and Sasuke with a subtle handsign. Realising what he’d done Sasuke quickly cast a subtle genjutsu over the two of them, just a whisper of look away nothing to see here, nothing flashy or attention grabbing, pretty good work actually. Say what you like about Sasuke, he always was incredibly competent when it came to the practical aspects of ninja work. Between that and Shikamaru’s obscuring shadows they could eavesdrop with impunity.
“They don’t need to be. They’re just here for diplomatic purposes, they have no reason to be looking for anything suspicious and this doesn’t concern them anyway.” The second speaker was wearing chakra infused silks, Shikamaru could tell by the subtle shine, and that paired with the rich purple dye spoke to impressive wealth even by the standards of this party. Possibly even imperial family levels of wealth.
“They’re ninja, they’re always looking for something suspicious, and do you really think it not being their business would stop them from selling the information to the highest bidder. No, we need to be careful, maybe put things on hold for a while. They’ll be gone soon enough and then we can move forward.” The first speaker was also well dressed, although not so well as his companion, and he stood like a man who might have some training in combat.
The second man considered for a moment and then shook his head. “No, we need to move quickly. Things are at a crucial point. If we delay now, certain people might start getting cold feet.” The first man looked unhappy but didn’t disagree with his companion’s assessment. “An inconveniently timed ninja delegation isn’t enough of a risk to justify waiting at this stage. Although,” the second man paused, “there is one thing that bothers me. That ninja with the white hair, they say his name is Hatake.”
“You don’t think..?” The first man breathed in sharply, as though it meant something. As though it meant something other than Copy Nin Kakashi, S ranked Konoha Jounin, S ranked Kiri missing nin, a man who could have been a Kage if his loyalty weren’t questionable. Shikamaru wondered what they could possibly know that worried them more than everything else Hatake sensei was.
“I don’t know. It could just be a coincidence. Still, I don’t like it.” The second man looked concerned and Shikamaru thought this was something that Asuma sensei and Hatake sensei really needed to know about.
“I’ll look into it.” The first man promised, bowing slightly before leaving. The second man took a moment to collect himself, and to space out their reappearances, before he too headed back into the party.
Shikamaru and Sasuke’s eyes met in silence. They would have to report this to both their Sensei no question. Shikamaru was curious though just what it was about Hatake sensei that had them so shaken. Wondered if maybe it was something he needed to be worried about too.
…
There was an alien precision in the way the noble women moved and Sakura found herself both unsettled and fascinated, drawn to the beautiful courtly dance of manners, the carefully applied masks of makeup, the colourful outfits that made her think of nothing so much as poisonous insects.
Sakura didn’t think she could call herself a Konoha nin without a proper appreciation for poisonous insects. The Aburame might take it to extremes, but they all lived in the same Fire country forests.
The Iron country court though, was proving to be a very different kind of jungle, the kind of cutthroat atmosphere that only held sway in places where wealth meant everything. The air was thick with the scent of floral perfumes, imported spices, and exotic teas that cost more than life itself. That wasn’t an exaggeration, Sakura knew the standard cost for an A rank assassination mission, and it wouldn’t cover the price of a single sip of the tea on the table in front of them. Sakura raised the cup to her lips and hoped her discomfort didn’t show.
Ino of course looked right at home. She’d always had a gift for that, for the clever, subtle social manoeuvring that was expected of kunoichi. Watching her kind of took Sakura’s breath away. Sakura had made her peace with the fact that she didn’t share that gift, that she was competent but not brilliant when it came to saying just the right things in just the right way. Maybe if she’d shared Ino’s gift things wouldn’t be so strained now with her parents, with her failure to be the daughter they thought they would have.
These noblewomen though, despite herself Sakura was impressed. They might look silly and frivolous but they built their entire lives around these social games and it showed. Every word, every look, every outfit had a purpose, and it wasn’t long before Sakura started to feel lost. Ino could hold her own, she was a Yamanaka, and they built their lives around mind games too, but Sakura was on a frontline team and this wasn’t the kind of battlefield she was trained for.
It wasn’t the politics. Sakura could do politics. Kakashi sensei had made damned sure of that, and it wasn’t the deception either, Sakura could lie through her teeth with the best of them. No what tripped her up was the performance, the artistry of these women’s games. It was the difference between a kata and a dance, and right here, right now, Sakura felt like she had two left feet.
But she was paired with Ino for a reason, and there was a reason Ino had always been top of Kunoichi class. Ino always knew what to do, what to say, to be what people wanted and she had them playing young and innocent. An easy enough sell. Civilians that they were the noblewomen were all too ready to confuse the two, even if Sakura lacked Ino’s gift for hiding her sharp edges.
It wasn’t, exactly getting them useful information. But Sakura wasn’t really expecting it to, this was at least half a training mission, if they got useful intel that was good, but even if they didn’t it would be a good learning experience, and Sakura certainly felt like she was learning a lot, from Ino and from the Samurai women they were talking to.
For one thing she’d learned that the Samurai and the Nobles weren’t quite the same thing here in Iron country, although they were closer than the nobility and ninja clans were back home. Sakura was also getting the feeling there might be some tension between the two factions, although she wasn’t sure how much of that of that suspicion was from what these ladies were saying and not saying and how much was from “The psychology of silent division.” by Uchiha Izuna that was buried at the bottom of her storage scroll.
Uchiha Izuna had apparently had opinions about factionalism, and class, and the nature of power, and the roots of conflict, and now it was there at the back of her mind whispering about unspoken faultlines, impossible to dismiss. Really it was a shame that he and Senju Tobirama had been mortal enemies, Sakura couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if the two of them had been able to collaborate on a paper. Whatever the result might have been it would have been fascinating.
Sakura tuned back in to realise that by some witchcraft Ino had manage to manoeuvre their new friends into inviting them to a party.
“Just a small affair.” Shinoyama Ao, third cousin to General Mikifune said with a delicate giggle. “Just us girls, so we can relax and have a bit of a chat you know.”
Ino smiled bright and enthusiastic as she replied. “Oh Sakura chan and I would be delighted. Wouldn’t we Sakura.” And Sakura might not have Ino’s terrifying talent for social manipulation but she knew what to say here.
“Oh yes. Thank you so much for inviting us.” She gave a shy smile. “It’s an honour.”
…
To the untrained eye Hatake would look relaxed. Movements steady, hands still, drifting through polite small talk with professional ease as he kept a casual watch over their students, diplomacy and infiltration might not be his specialty but he clearly knew what he was doing.
Asuma was many things, but untrained was never going to be one of them, never could have been. He was born son of the Hokage, son of one of the most powerful ninja ever to live, born to a man with enemies, to a future weighted down with enough expectations to drown a man, and he could see what none of the civilians in the room could.
He might have put it down to general discomfort with court functions and politics. A lot of ninja were uncomfortable with that sort of thing and it was a long way outside Hatake’s specialty. It would be fair enough, there was a lot to dislike about this sort of political mingling, Asuma himself might have found himself disliking it if he weren’t so very good at it. But, that wasn’t quite it, or at least not all of it.
“Hatake was it?” Said the Daimyo’s third cousin, and there was a subtle emphasis on his comrade’s name that Asuma didn’t like.
“That’s right.” Hatake gave a predator’s smile, and Asuma just knew that his mask was hiding a mouthful of teeth that would put a wolf to shame. “Mochida san wasn’t it?” Mochida was smart enough to pale at the unspoken threat, but not smart enough to back down.
“Is that a common name in Konoha?” If the man had done any research at all then he would know that it wasn’t, and by his tone it was clear that he knew that. He was trying to bait them, to see just what he could shake out of them by pushing. Hatake was a professional though, took it in stride with false good humour to cover a cool edge of utterly controlled violence, and Asuma could get to like working with him.
“Oh not at all. It’s just me I’m afraid. I immigrated to Konoha when I was young. You know how it goes. Sometimes the place you were born is just not a welcoming environment anymore.” Kakashi glanced over Asuma’s way as he said that, just a flicker, to fast for anyone not a shinobi to have caught it. Asuma just blinked slowly back at him, if Hatake wanted to have that conversation they could have it somewhere without listening ears.
“And where did you come from, if you don’t mind me asking.” Mochida pushed again and something in the way he said it made it very clear there was a particular answer he was expecting there. Asuma would almost be impressed by this man’s nerve if he didn’t suspect that he had no idea just how close to death he was standing. Asuma was no slouch when it came to violence, but Hatake was something else. One of the deadliest killers Asuma had ever encountered, and his focus on this soft man in expensive silks asking deeply personal questions was razor sharp.
“Kirigakure no sato.” Hatake replied, with a thread of gleeful anticipation in his voice, “You might know it better as the Bloody Mist, The other ninja villages think we’re a little… bloodthirsty you see.” And he let the implications of that settle with all the horror stories civilians were told about ninja, just what it might mean that other ninja thought them a nightmare. Hatake’s satisfaction as the man finally broke, stuttered his excuses and made a retreat was plain to see.
Asuma let a trace of his own amusement bleed through. “So, care to share what all that was about?” He asked, carefully casual, just asking, not pushing, Hatake was a professional, if Asuma needed to know he’d tell, if not then it was Hatake’s right as a comrade to choose what he wanted to share. Asuma knew how to mind his manners.
“Maybe later.” Hatake said, deliberately cool and relaxed. Not here, not now, is what he meant, not where just anyone could hear us, and Asuma could respect that. He nodded slightly, before changing the subject.
“So shall we see if anyone here is actually worth talking to, or should we carry on reminding the civilians of their manners.” Both tempting options, but the dilemma was solved for them when another well dressed nobleman interrupted them.
“Ah, is that Sarutobi Asuma. I heard you were the son of the third Hokage. Such a great man, I had nothing but respect for him of course. Such a difficult job, keeping all those… colourful individuals under control.” There were layers of unspoken implications in his tone, all of them unpleasant. Clearly one of those nobles who thought of ninja as dangerous jumped up peasants with ideas above their station. How charming.
Asuma’s eyes met with Hatake’s in perfect accord. Time to give a lesson in manners then.