Catalyze
Chapter 3 - Messenger Hawks Aren't Hawks
Read on AO3 ==> <== Chapter 1
Team Kakashi was a disaster.
Both on and off the battlefield.
From slinging insults at one another during downtime, to outright neglecting each other in fights, Yamato almost had to wonder what Kakashi and Jiraiya had even taught Naruto. Comrades weren’t just something you could pick and choose; They were your partners, your team, your village. They did not just stop being comrades because you didn’t happen to like them.
And no matter how many times he had attempted to correct Naruto’s behavior, that simple fact never seemed to stick.
Unfortunately, Sai hadn’t helped his case when he’d teamed up with Orochimaru though, so his current status as a comrade was tenuous at best. Yes, he had rejoined the team and helped them against the aforementioned traitors, but The Foundation worked from the shadows in roundabout ways. Orochimaru was still likely in some sort of contact with Danzo. Yamato had suspected as much since he hadn’t spotted any ROOT agents helping during the last assault on Konoha; Leaving a quarter of the city destroyed and Lord Third dead.
Would Kinoe have been ordered to stand and watch as Konoha, once more, was under siege if Kakashi had not lifted him into ANBU?
It was hard to judge Sai too harshly… Danzo had sunk his roots deep into the boy; Yamato knew all too well the effects of the poison he spread.
It didn’t mean he could trust Sai, however. They’d been out of contact with him for nearly fourteen hours, and he’d already attempted to mislead them twice after even if afterward he had helped against Sasuke. Who knew what purpose Danzo had truly sent Sai to accomplish? No amount of questioning would result in a concrete answer as long as that silencing seal was in place.
And it was unfortunately tricky enough that even Master Jiraiya with all his sealing prowess refused to touch it. The risk of making even the smallest mistake and lobotomizing the person in question was too high for any of them to take. He’d gotten by long enough with pointed stares and cryptic statements about his time that, for Yamato, it wouldn’t have made too much of a difference either way.
Yamato sighed, finally crossing the threshold into his small apartment and running a hand through his hair, the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders easing with the familiar scent of lemon button ferns he kept on an end table next to the entrance.
He didn’t want to usurp Kakashi’s authority, but it was obvious that the entire team needed to be drilled into the appropriate, functional, shape, and if Kakashi wasn’t going to do it…. Well, as the co-captain of the team, that responsibility fell on Yamato’s shoulders, didn’t it….
It wasn’t quite a permanent position, Tsunade had made that clear, but it was permanent enough that he wouldn’t be returning to his ANBU command anytime soon. The hokage had agreed with his own verdict; Naruto’s control over the Nine-Tailed Fox was tenuous at best, and the seal was weakening at an extraordinary rate. Most likely hastened by the constant stress testing Jiraiya had been putting Naruto through the past nearly four years now.
Naruto had divulged that Jiraiya had intentionally been pushing the boy into situations where he would need to rely on the Kyuubi’s chakra after exhausting his own all throughout his training…. One could dress it up however they pleased, but at the end of the day, it was just as much an experiment with the boys’ body as it was exercising. Yamato was no stranger to experimenting with jutsu, techniques, but bringing out a malevolent entity purposefully when Naruto knew nothing about it, or how to control it, while it constantly damaged his body was nothing short of reckless.
Had they even provided him with Lady Mito’s notes?
Or would that have given him too much of a clue as to who his parents were? The boy already knew he was a jinchuriki, and he already had an entire organization of S-Ranked criminals, what was the point of keeping everything else secret?
It seemed ridiculous that the gag order was still in place at all. Despite having the chakra of an Uzumaki, Naruto did not have access to the Adamantine Chains technique that both Lady Mito and Kushina Uzumaki had had. The hiden technique was passed down from one Uzumaki to another, and it was probable that the details of how to perform it existed within Mito’s notes even if there were no Uzumaki left in Konoha to teach the boy.
Not that he was even supposed to know about those…. If nothing else, ROOT had been a useful tool while he had been part of it.
Being Lord Third’s Spymaster, there was no doubt Jiraiya must have known about them as well at the very least. It would have made more sense to have Naruto learn the Adamantine Chains technique before attempting to channel the Nine Tails’ power. It was reckless. Everything about this was reckless. And after learning that Jiraiya had only agreed to teach Naruto in the first place through bribery with an explicit transformation jutsu, Yamato found himself incredibly relieved that Lady Tsunade had been the one to take the hat. Battlefield prowess did not sound judgment make, and he loathed to think about what Konoha would have become under his rule.
Spirits, what a mess….
At least Asuma would have had a hokage that disappointed him more than his father, he supposed.
He could really use a drink.
And it was a Thursday….
Sure, maybe you hadn’t shown up in months but maybe…. Maybe you would tonight.
A quick shower to wash the grime of the road off of himself, a shave before his stubble started getting particularly itchy, and a fresh set of jounin fatigues had him feeling at least marginally better before he headed out to hunt down Asuma.
Yamato took his time as he strolled to the Sarutobi compound, stretching his chakra just far enough to feel the unmistakable sharp smoke tangled with ephemeral yin as he got close to the gate.
Oh.
He immediately pulled back, reversing course, cheeks aflame. It seemed that Asuma was already busy then. That was fine… it wasn’t like Yamato needed a partner to drink. Slowly, he made his way to The Summons alone.
The familiar stale smell of alcohol, sweat, and day-old blood greeted him as usual. He sat at the leftmost corner of the bar as usual. Ordered a gin and tonic as usual.
The corner booth was occupied by a couple drunkenly making out under the protection of a minor genjutsu meant for people to subconsciously look elsewhere. It wasn’t particularly subtle, but it would probably do the job for most chuunin. He averted his eyes anyway, stomach twisting in knots.
You never showed.
He sang once, but went home after his third drink, limbs heavy when he finally sunk into bed.
Konohagakure was many things.
A trading hub with its bustling streets; The third most populous city in the Land of Fire besides the Capital itself, and the port city of Tama on the southern peninsula. The current census put it at a over 150,000 residents now, the vast majority of which were civilians despite being the country’s military center. It was largely considered to be the most powerful of the ninja villages with an military of roughly 25,000 active shinobi. The actual numbers of which were known only by the Hokage herself and, perhaps, her advisors.
A village forged in the fires of conflict and violence despite what Lord Shodaime had first preached. The bloody stains of war soaked all but the cobblestone of the central roads, re-laid after the rampage of the Kyuubi and the untimely death of the Fourth. Who was to say that death was for better or worse? Life went on mostly unchanged for civilians after, though the hatred directed at a mere child for the damage had always seemed unwarranted… Konoha was frequently unfair like that.
Konohagakure was the epicenter of the Hashirama forest. Trees old, but nowhere near old enough to warrant the unnaturally thick growth that the Shodaime Hokage had created with his mokuton; The broadleaf, or more commonly known as Senju, beech making up the primary portion of the forest. Though it was hard to imagine people outside of the scientific community referring to the area as the Broadleaf Woodlands; Few people knew just how rare broadleaf beeches were outside of this geographical area of Fire Country, and it was nearly indistinguishable from the fire beeches that constituted most of the forests of the Land of Fire. The main tell being the slight fuzz at the base of both female and male flower stems of the broadleaf beech in the early spring, the fire beech had no such fuzz. In common parlance, the dense woods surrounding Konohagakure was simply known as the Hashirama forest.
But, more than anything else, Konohagakure was home… even if you didn’t always like it. The rhythm of haggling merchants, playing children, the pitter-patter of shinobi running along roofs, and messenger hawks (though neither of the primary species were true hawks: the larger of the two species commonly used being the upaya eagle, and the faster being hayabusa, a raptor belonging to the falconidae family) flying above was as familiar as the back of your hand.
You stretched as you waited for Shion, sheltered under the overhang of a convenience store from the early evening sun. Late summer daylight lasted so long… it was nearly eight and still hot as hell.
He was late. Which wasn’t unusual, really, he could be like that sometimes when he was in a relationship, and you at least liked the woman he was dating now. She was sweet, kind, and the sort of sharp that one had to be while working in Intelligence. She’d never said as much, but from the way she had read you to filth once, though not unkindly, when you’d told her about a string failed dates, you couldn’t imagine her in anything else.
Not to mention that she had a consistent schedule which meant she had steady work within the village. Shion always said you kept too close track of things for your own good, “It’s freaky, civilians shouldn’t take note of stuff like that.”
You’d rolled your eyes. You’d been best friends since you were children… he should know by now that you kept track of things. But it was getting harder, and harder lately to–
“Hey!” Shion appeared beside you in a whirl of air. Body flicker is what he’d called the technique, recently learned, took above average control, I’ll definitely make jounin soon, he’d bragged.
“Show off,” You gave him a shove without any force behind it, “If you can move so fast, I don’t understand why you’re late.”
“Sorry, sorry, I was out with Saoko-chan and I lost track of time,” He always managed to look sincere at the admonishment, but he rarely took any of it to heart, “First round’s on me tonight, okay?”
But his smile was so easy, wide, and welcoming, it was hard to stay annoyed.
“Most expensive drink first then, got it,” You returned it, sliding into the easy rhythm born of familiarity.
“Fiiine, I guess I deserve that.”
A noncommittal hum prefaced your response as you both made your way to The Summons, “You know you can always invite her, right?”
“You’d really be okay with that?” His golden-brown eyes lit up.
“Of course.”
Saoko was the only girlfriend he’d had that you actually liked, and, perhaps, the only one who genuinely liked you too. She was steady, intelligent, practical, all good things for Shion. Their plans for the future aligned, and judging from her looks, she was Yamanaka which meant he’d also be part of a clan if it all went well. Overall, you were happy for him. Happy for them.
Even if it meant he would be flakier for a while.
It was fine.
You already knew what to expect.
It was always the smell that hit you first when you entered the bar; Sweat (not the clean kind that came from working out), beer, and what you were pretty sure was an undercurrent of stale blood. It was a shinobi bar after all, and if you hadn’t been consistently going there with Shion for the past few months for karaoke, you were positive you would have turned tale and left.
However, the feeling always left after taking a seat in the familiar booth, nursing a drink or three, and laughing uproariously with your best friend. Well, not too uproariously, sometimes it almost felt like you were being watched. Which… was fair. You were a civilian in a shinobi bar. Not the only one, of course, but you knew the ways in which you stood out.
Heaven forbid a soft civilian dared to intrude in their presence.
Sometimes it felt like shinobi thought of them as a different species. It was endlessly… irksome.
Who grew and processed the food and drink at these tables? Who felled the trees and carved them into beams, and chairs, and built the structures they took shelter in? Who maintained the power lines and plants that generated and carried the electricity they used in their homes?
There was more to this world than fighting and wars, and it would do them some good to remember it.
But after two and a half drinks, it was hard to remember how anything could have ever upset you. In fact, you couldn’t help but lean into Shion, blathering on about how happy you were for him and Saoko and how much more you liked her than his last girlfriend, about your work week, and your latest project. Anything and everything.
Because as much as Shion could be an idiot sometimes, he was still so incredibly fun and easy to talk to, and when he ushered you over to the mic, you had very few protests. It was always like that, wasn’t it? Getting to the mic and feeling like everyone was staring until you closed your eyes and let the music wash the anxiety.
For a few blissful moments, everything melted away except for the beat, the lyrics, and the air in your lungs as you sang along. You hadn’t had the confidence to sing in front of people sober since you were a kid, but with a few drinks in you, it was easy to get let go of whatever completely valid reservations you had without a buzz.
Easy to let the rhythm take control.
Like this, even when the song ended, the alcohol gave everything a hazy, dreamy quality that left you giggling.
You slid back into the booth and Shion gave you a smile, radiant and infectious, as he clapped your back, “I don’t know why you always get so nervous. You’re great up there!”
“Flatterer,” You grinned back, cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and the praise. His sincerity always got to you in a way that made your blood itch to sing again, but you weren’t about to hog the mic. You were a little drunk, not rude or selfish like that, “You gonna sing?”
“Nah,” Shion waved you off, “Maybe next time. My throat feels a little funny.”
It was rare for him to take the mic. Maybe ten percent of the time, and it was the same cycle of excuses. You’d wondered why he even went to karaoke in the first place, but you weren’t going to complain. Besides, he liked the alcohol, and he’d admitted once that he liked seeing you happy. It was sappy, a layer of haziness to it when you’d both stumbled back to his apartment one night. He tended not to do the whole “vulnerability” thing; He was easy-going, affable in a way you’d never managed to be, but rarely vulnerable….
Sometimes you wondered if your mind was just playing tricks on you.
But you’d been best friends since you were kids, it would make sense that he would be happy to see you happy. You were happy to see him happy, and you frequently told him as much after all. Things were different for shinobi though. You’d known that since you’d been a child; Your parents had warned you about it.
Sometimes it was strange to think that nearly twenty percent of the village’s significant population were trained killers. Hard to reconcile the sunny man laughing beside you with someone you knew had ended lives. He’d taken turns bragging about his first kill and having mental breakdowns about the face that had haunted his dreams the first few weeks after.
You polished off the rest of your drink, leaning back and snorting, in what you were sure was a completely unflattering way, at the dumb pun he’d made.
“Man, remember last year at the capital?” Shion grinned.
You hummed, opening an eye to look at him, “You mean when Tanaka caught you drunk when you were supposed to be on-duty and I had to tell him you’d intercepted some poison someone had tried to slip me so they didn’t rescind your mission pay?”
“Oh shit, I completely forgot about that,” He snickered, “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“You’re welcome. I’m not covering you for the next one though.” It was a lie. You’d been covering for his dumb ass since you could barely write your own name, just as he covered for yours when you did something dumb…. Not recently though. You tended to keep your nose out of trouble if you could help it.
“Of course, I’ve learned my lesson.” He said that every year. “Anyways, I meant-”
“Excuse me,” A server cut in, a drink in hand.
Shion quirked an eyebrow, “I don’t remember ordering another round.”
“Oh, sorry, right. Yes,” She took the empty glass from in front of you to rest the full one in its stead, “Courtesy of the gentleman at the bar.”
There was an uncomfortable, but warm, pang in your gut as you stared at the drink in front of you, condensation gathering along the sides and dripping down in rivulets onto the table.
“For me?” Your voice was small as you looked up at the server, eyes flickering for just a moment to the space just left of her arm.
“Yes, I hope you enjoy!” And then she was gone, your view of where she’d gestured now clear but you couldn’t help but duck your head bashfully, fixating on the glass and the wet ring it was leaving on the wood beneath.
“Wow, look at you,” It was nearly drowned out by the crowd around you and the pounding in your own ears. No one had ordered you a drink before… at least not like this. Conferences and colleagues were different, even if they were a stranger you at least knew you had something in common. Friendly, welcoming, occasional attempts to curry favor.
Hesitantly, you peaked from beneath your lashes at the bar.
Nobody was looking at you, waving you down. No familiar faces other than the vague regulars you didn’t have names for. The stools in one corner conspicuously empty.
“Wonder who it was…. It doesn’t look like anyone’s paying attention to you,” Shion stated the obvious, curiously craning his head to study everyone better while you reached for the drink. His playful grin as he glanced at you was emboldening, “Careful, it might be poisoned.”
Vaguely you considered that, but you were in the village. Who would even want to do something like that now?
You were a civilian.
Why would anyone want to buy you a drink in the first place though…? It wasn’t like you were that good of a singer, and you were moderately inebriated so you were sure you’d slurred some of the lyrics and messed up.
But you supposed that other people in this bar were drunk as well….
He jostled you as you drank; Slow sips, plenty of water between. You were already at your limit before, and you’d hate to wake up with too bad of a hangover. The thought of wasting the drink though was… galling.
“Any idea who this secret admirer might be?” Shion teased.
You shook your head, bordering on full-on-drunk as you hummed, “I almost wonder if the bartender just felt bad for me or something.”
Your friend scoffed, “That’s no fun. I bet it’s that one over there, with the tattoo and he’s just too shy to approach you.”
Glancing over at where he was looking, you blanched, “I don’t think someone with a skull facial tattoo would be shy.”
“Yeah, but he’s covered in blood, so maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you off if he’s too forward, you never know.”
He wasn’t wrong, perse, but you weren’t sure you’d want to go out with someone who seemed perfectly fine being out in public, obviously with friends, still splattered in someone’s blood. Even if it was his own. Was he trying to spread hepatitis?
You hated that ‘yes’ was a very possible answer to that question.
… Spirits, you really hoped it wasn’t him.
Shion continued his game, “Could also be that one over there with the pretty blue eyes.”
And the jagged, saw-toothed sword on their back….
“Could also be that whoever it was meant it for you,” You replied after a moment, pushing the drink in front of him, suddenly feeling a bit ill. It was probably better that you stopped, either way. You had already had so much to drink, it really was for the best.
“Hey, hey,” He pushed it back towards you good-naturedly, “The server said it was for you. Besides, if I started drinking it and it was from that tattoo guy, I think he’d kill me.”
“Now, now, you never know,” You parroted his own words back to him, perhaps a bit smugly, at that.
You passed by The Summons after work the following Thursday, eyes catching on the door, feet slowing. The faint rhythm inside was muffled as it leaked out into the alley. Shion said he would be busy tonight, so he wouldn’t be able to make it. Part of you wanted to go anyway, keep your normal Thursday after-work ritual… but outside of social occasions, you really weren’t that much of a drinker. And the thought of being the only civilian sitting alone in a ninja bar sounded… uncomfortable.
While it was fine to take up space within civilian areas, there were certain unwritten rules when it came people trained to snap your neck, or gut you, or stick you in some sort of hell torture dimension in your mind. One of those rules was to keep your nose clear of their business unless invited.
If a shinobi were to invite you to join them in their space, you should join them.
If a shinobi friend were to invite you to join them in their space, you could join them. You also had the option to turn them down, or suggest other activities. If you knew them well enough.
It was unwise to push back too much if they insisted, however. Slighting a ninja was always the wrong course of action.
But, of course, ninja were there for your safety.
Shion was kind though, and as a general rule of thumb, most ninja behaved themselves within the village.
So… Maybe the person who’d gotten you a drink last time– No. You weren’t going to get your hopes up.
Last week had been a fluke. A stranger had been just drunk enough to order you a drink after listening to your drunken karaoke. They hadn’t cared enough to introduce themselves afterward or give a name, or address, or anything like that.
It could have even been the bartender feeling bad for you because they knew about Shion’s chronically single civilian friend.
And even if it were the case that someone had bought you a drink, and that someone were at the bar tonight, and that person were somehow miraculously interested… it would be incredibly unwise to enter.
If a shinobi were to invite you to join them in their space, you should join them.
If an unknown shinobi were to invite you to join them in their space, you could offer a simple question to, perhaps, deflect, but you were to join them if they did not turn their attention elsewhere. You were not to explicitly turn them down.
Your mother had drilled that into your head at the tender age of five, though growing up around Shion had certainly relaxed your alarms for a while, for better or for worse. Without having him around for backup… then, well….
It would be best if you didn’t tempt fate.
You stuffed your hands in your pockets, and looked down at the gravel as you resumed your trek home.
Months drifted by.
Two turned into three turned into five since you’d last seen Shion for more than a few minutes in passing.
Sometimes you wondered if he was purposefully ignoring you, or if he really was astronomically busy with missions. You still ran into each other sometimes at the convenience store, and sometimes you’d get each other coffee if there was time enough for that, but it wasn’t much more than a quick greeting. Nothing prolonged or meaningful.
Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You just missed him.
It wasn’t as though you didn’t have other friends; You still went for hot pot occasionally with a few of your coworkers, and you exchanged letters with a few friends you’d met in your travels. Was it the same? No. You and Shion had known each other since you were children running around, playing in mud, setting things on fire with a lighter you’d found in the woods, and seeing all of the awkward moments where puberty was unkind to the both of you.
Even when you were studying in the capital or apprenticing abroad, you’d still written to each other.
But that was all part of being an adult, wasn’t it? Seeing friends in the small moments you could.
And it wasn’t like he could exactly control when he worked. He was a ninja, very proudly at that, so when duty called… he had to answer.
You were just being – your grimace deepened – clingy.
Again.
You sat back in your chair, twirling a pencil around in your fingers as your thoughts strayed.
Maybe you should try harder to go on dates or something…. Shion always seemed so happy whenever he was in a relationship. Most people did. Movies, books, television, your parents, all seemed to be in love with the idea of love.
And, it would be nice, wouldn’t it? To have someone to come home to….
But you were notoriously bad at dating. Whether it was saying the wrong thing, or not thinking to hold someone’s hand, or being too vulnerable, or clingy, or distant, sharing too much about your interests or sharing too little, things tended to fizzle out very, very quickly.
You had made it to a second date a grand total of twice.
And, to be fair, it had never been a huge priority, and maybe people could somehow sense that… but it was still embarrassing to admit how bad at romance you were. You weren’t used to being bad at things. Most things came quickly or easily to you, even if your skill level only amounted to being average when you inevitably didn’t have time, energy, or resources to dedicate to honing it.
But, thus far, your longest relationship had been three months. And that was likely aided by the simple fact that, for the vast majority of it, you had been in two separate countries and most of your interactions were through letters.
You sighed. It wasn’t worth dwelling on…. No, you had far more pressing matters at hand. You couldn’t afford to get distracted. You were due to get the results back sometime next week, and then you would have to prepare for that annual conference.
Romance wasn’t something you had time for.
At least… that’s what you told yourself.
“Hey, Captain Yamato,” Sakura waved to him from across the street as the doors to the hospital closed behind her.
Her arm was looking a better after both Shizune and Lady Tsunade had begun treating it, but he knew how savage that wound had been. Apparently, her medic training had made her chakra more receptive to the caustic power of the Nine Tails, and it had continued to linger far longer than it should have because of the way it had interfaced with her chakra network.
“Sakura,” He greeted her with a tight smile as she crossed the street, “Aren’t you supposed to be taking a few days to rest and recover?”
“No strenuous activity for a week, I know,” She waved him off, “I’ve mostly been catching up on paperwork and working on some compounds for the pharmacy.”
Yamato nodded. It wasn’t often that he was put on rest orders, but whenever he was, he never knew what to do with himself. One could only sleep so many hours a day. It was good she’d found a way to be productive while she recovered.
“Actually, it’s good I ran into you,” She started, smile soft as she set the pace as they walked, “I’m not supposed to be lifting any heavy objects just yet, and I need to pick up an order from a local kampo specialist. I would have made Naruto do it, but I know you’re a good captain who would never force a lady on bed-rest to break her orders.” Sakura batted her eyelashes at him, innocent smile curling the corners of her lips.
“Of course,” He smiled back. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He’d already made Naruto and Sai run laps around the training ground with an ankle tied to one another to build teamwork, and it wasn’t quite time for lunch yet.… And Kakashi had pretended to be asleep when he’d attempted to visit him in the hospital.
He tried not to let it get to him, he really, really tried… but sometimes Yamato couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve the avoidant treatment. Was it something he had said? Did Kakashi find out about his secret mission from the elders to watch him back then?
But the sun was shining, there was a light, comfortable breeze, and his new teammate was at least happy to see him. He could be content with that at the very least. The silence between them was comfortable as they wove through the streets, getting farther and farther from the village center.
Yamato supposed that it made sense for a traditional medicine specialist to be located near the outskirts. A small, hand-painted sign at the very end of the street read “Herbal Traditions” with a maneki-neko stationed near the door, the pendant on its collar adorned with “Vitality”. Bordered by a low, simple, wooden fence were rows upon rows of greenhouses out back that caught his eye for a moment, and sensing his distraction, Sakura stopped beside him.
“If you’re interested, I’m sure the Professor or one of the other staff would be willing to give you a tour,” Her smile was soft when he turned to look at her, thoughtful, sincere, “They do really important work here, and they’re very proud of it.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, he took one last look, counting about a dozen. And he had to admit, he was a bit curious, “Do they grow all of their ingredients here?”
Sakura nodded, pulling the door open with a faint chime.
The inside was neat, polished wood floors worn with use but otherwise clean, a few shelves along the wall housed boxes and bags of medicinal teas or poultices. And as his eyes wandered, his breath caught fast in his chest.
Heartbeat roaring in his ears, stomach fluttering with something he couldn’t quite name; He was sure Sakura was saying something, but it was like trying to grasp water as it slipped through his fingers.
Hunched over the counter speaking with someone in hushed tones was you.
