It was the most beautiful of all cold, windy, overcast spring days. Today, Hazō’s indentured servitude was finally over. No more being forced to give scouting reports in trochaic octameter. No more following people around with a flute as their personal background theme. No more digging latrines, or copying recipes out of Kagome-sensei’s book by hand so he didn’t have to risk the original while cooking, or polishing Pandā’s scales until they gleamed in the firelight—which didn’t even make sense as a task, given the effect wouldn’t carry over to Pandā’s real body. No, today, Hazō was a free man.

“So, Hazō, what are you going to do now?” Inoue-sensei asked coolly. “Apart from grinning like an idiot.”

“Um,” Hazō stopped grinning. Something about Inoue-sensei had been off for the last couple of weeks. She hadn’t been… frustrating? Hyper? A constant threat to his hair? Mischievous. Let’s go with mischievous. If anything, she’d been acting a lot like Hazō’s old team leader, and it was unnerving.

“Inoue-sensei, are you still upset with me?”

Inoue-sensei paused, then gave a wry smile that had no relationship to humour. “It’s complicated and I don’t feel like talking about it right now.

“The important thing is that everybody else is calming down. Noburi’s studying the notes Dr Yakushi left him instead of staring at them like a dead lover’s keepsake, Keiko’s steadily approaching her normal level of… Keiko, and it’s done Kagome a world of good to be able to secure the perimeter. So as a special reward for your hard work, I’m going to let you do what you’ve always wanted… and make a list. We’re long overdue for an after-action report.”

Hazō’s grin returned. He fished around in his note-taking pouch, and produced a scroll, which he unfurled with a flourish. “Way ahead of you, Inoue-sensei.”

Inoue-sensei just sighed.

o-o-o-o

​ “OK, everyone,” Hazō began. Today really was a glorious day. Not only was he freed from his torment, but he was about to start fulfilling one of his traditional duties as team sort-of-leader. A few more steps, and hopefully he’d be able to regain the trust he’d lost by nearly getting his team horribly killed. “I think this would be a good time to go over the mistakes we’ve all made in the recent past, and figure out some ways to do better in the future. Any objections to me taking the lead?”

Noburi shrugged. “Better you than me.”

“I would not gainsay your superior expertise in this matter,” Keiko agreed.

Neither of the adults commented, though Kagome was only half-listening and half- working on some new piece of carving (either a deer statuette or a backscratcher—Hazō couldn’t quite tell).

“Good,” Hazō said. “As you can see from this list”—Noburi gave an exaggerated groan—“I’ve organized the main points by subject, then chronologically. So first things first, OPSEC.

“I think it’s fair to say that we’ve all been terrible at keeping our secrets, especially from Leaf, but we weren’t doing so well in Sarubetsu either. Remember when all of us but Inoue-sensei got caught by two ninja patrols at the same time?”

“That wasn’t OPSEC,” Noburi objected. “That was stealth.”

“Yes,” Hazō said, “but do you remember the part where we threatened them with all the abilities we actually possess?”

Keiko squirmed.

“Hey,” Noburi said, “I think we got out of that one just fine. If anything, muddying the waters with that crazy sealmistress story was a stroke of genius.”

“That’s one word for it,” Inoue-sensei muttered.

“Ahem,” Hazō hurried on, “there was also that Irie trader who identified all three of our bloodlines in one conversation.”

“That was insane,” Noburi agreed. “I don’t think any of us could’ve seen that coming.”

“It brings up an important point, though,” Inoue-sensei said. “You kids have got to learn how to act like normal people. Take a look at me. Do I look like a badass genjutsu mistress, pro infiltrator and winner of the Mist Women’s CQC Tournament three years running?”

Hazō shook his head.

“What do I look like?”

Hazō hesitated. That sounded like a question with a lot of wrong answers, but also an opportunity to score badly-needed points.

He took what he knew was a few seconds too long to find a good formulation, but finally came out with:

“A woman remarkable only for her beauty and poise.”

Everyone else was now giving him very odd looks, but Inoue-sensei gave a light smile.

“Eight out of ten. Maybe not all of my training has gone to waste.

“More to the point, ordinary kids don’t make a beeline for every seal they see. Ordinary civilian kids aren’t even literate, but that time you were being a ninja so it wasn’t such a big deal. Ordinary kids also don’t move like they’re used to wrestling bears in their spare time.

“Ordinary kids don’t perform miracles of analysis either. Smart is one thing. Smart and educated is another. Mori-level educated is something completely different, and other smart and educated people will notice.

“Noburi… you’re doing good. We just need to figure out how to deal with that barrel.”

“Thanks, Inoue-sensei,” Hazō said. “On to Leaf. Noburi and I both messed up with Dr Yakushi. If Inoue-sensei’s right, then he was being very manipulative, and neither of us noticed.”

“It is not so much that I noticed,” Keiko added, “as that I am disinclined to trust strangers to begin with, and so his communication style explicitly demanded something I was unwilling to give. It is entirely possible that, had he chosen an approach specifically tailored to my personality, I would have been as vulnerable as anyone else.”

Hazō looked questioningly at Kagome-sensei.

“You really think he was being more manipulative than all the other Leaf stinkers?” Kagome-sensei asked. “They were all doing it. Lying bastards, the lot of them. It’s just he didn’t have extra leverage over us the way the others did, so he had to work harder.

“Oh, wait, he had Akane, didn’t he? Never mind.”

“Regardless,” Hazō said, “we need to get better at noticing manipulation, and that means paying attention to what people might want, and how their actions are helping them get it. We knew Dr Yakushi was interested in our bloodlines, and we should’ve picked up faster on how all the great things he was offering us were going to get him what he wanted.”

Noburi frowned. “I’ve said it before, but Yakushi-sensei was also acting exactly the way someone in his position would act if he was just a really nice guy. As opposed to an enemy we had to threaten to Jiraiya’s face.”

“You know I didn’t mean to—“Hazō cut himself off. After two weeks of hard work, he was not going to start an argument over this. “It’s not that I disagree, Noburi. He saved Akane’s life, and I’m ashamed I let myself forget that. But people in our position can’t afford to relax just because someone seems trustworthy. I mean, Jiraiya likes us too, and on the whole he’s been really good to us, but I don’t think at this point any of us doubt that he’d throw us under a rampaging chakra bison if he thought it would advance Leaf’s interests.

“Speaking of Jiraiya, we don’t need to go over what a disaster that was again, but it wasn’t the only one either. I interrupted the Hokage when I asked whether Akane was OK. Luckily, he’s apparently very kind as Kage go, so he forgave me, but that whole ‘disrespecting Jiraiya’ thing really brought home to me how careless I’d been. If that had been the Mizukage, he might have just torn my soul from my body there and then.”

“The Mizukage doesn’t tear out souls,” Inoue-sensei said quietly. “He crushes them. Never look him in the eye.”

Hazō shivered.

“Uh, moving on, there’s also the Library Incident. Again, that’s all me, but I think as an example of what not to do, it’s useful for everyone. I blurted out a bunch of secrets and I assaulted Captain Sarutobi. In retrospect, it’s amazing we survived that as painlessly as we did.

“The fact is, we need training. We need to be ready so that when we speak with people who could wipe us out by sneezing in our general direction, we’ve got the proper attitudes and body language ready to go. That goes double for me, since with my bloodline once I learn the perfect poker face, I should be able to use it anytime.”

“You’re also the one who needs it most if we’re going to stay alive,” Noburi added helpfully.

“Thank you, Noburi. So. Training. Serious training. Can you help us with that, Inoue-sensei?”

Inoue-sensei gave him an unreadable look. “I can try.”

“Good. Now, let’s move on to manipulation.”

“Weren’t we already talking about manipulation?” Noburi interjected.

“Well, technically, yes, but this is where we start talking about manipulation according to my list,” Hazō explained, pointing to the relevant sub-heading.

Inoue-sensei gave a forlorn sigh.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot while we’ve been in Iron,” Hazō said. “From the moment we entered Leaf, we had the Hokage with his grandfatherly aura. By the way, Inoue-sensei, is that some kind of Kage ability, or does he just have incredible body language?”

“It’s a jōnin thing,” Inoue-sensei said. “I’ll tell you about it another time.”

“Right. Then there was Dr Yakushi. He never stopped being… the way he was. Looking back, the last time I saw him it was still impossible to tell whether he was being nice or manipulating me for all he was worth. And again, it was really hard to notice at the time, because he acts so naturally.

“Let’s not forget the minders. Jiraiya just happened to assign us people our age, whom we just happened to get on with really well. I think we can all agree that after spending a week with them, we approve of Leaf more than we would have otherwise. Speaking for myself, I really don’t like the idea of fighting against Leaf if it would mean fighting Teams Sarutobi or Gai. Uh, not that I would anyway, because Akane is there and because Leaf is incredibly powerful and we’re a small group of missing-nin, but you know what I mean.

“It’s almost eerie how well things went. Speaking for myself, I successfully befriended Nara, and discovered common interests, as well as getting him potentially interested in our ideals. I, uh, bonded with Lee. Despite my lack of experience, I was able to flirt with Yamanaka. I—”

“Hold up,” Noburi said sharply. “You mean you were flirting with her? While your girlfriend was in hospital? It wasn’t just my imagination? Or an accident because you’re so socially inept?”

“Not an accident, no.” Hazō said. Why was this relevant?

“Did Akane know?”

“Eventually. But we weren’t dating when it started.”

“Uh-huh,” Noburi nodded. “But you were planning to, didn’t you? You visited her every day. You made her feel special. You confessed your feelings for her. All while going after another girl?”

Hazō looked to Inoue-sensei for support, but there was no help coming from that quarter.

Keiko’s face showed only dawning realisation.

Kagome-sensei was focused completely on his carving, almost suspiciously so.

“It wasn’t like that,” Hazō insisted. “Obviously, Akane would always come first!”

“So you were just leading Yamanaka on, then?” Noburi asked. “It wasn’t enough for you to have one girl who worships the ground you tread on, but you had to be the one to get Yamanaka as well? And you weren’t even taking it seriously?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Hazō repeated. “I asked Akane. She said she was OK with sharing. Potentially.”

Noburi gave him a look of mixed pity and disgust. “Hazō, Akane was trapped, alone and in danger of losing the boy she loved to another girl. Don’t you think she’d say anything if it meant preserving your relationship?”

“Akane wouldn’t lie to me,” Hazō said uncertainly.

“Never underestimate what a desperate person will do for love,” Keiko said in a heavy voice.

“You were unfair to Akane, and you were unfair to Yamanaka,” Noburi said bitingly. “I liked Yamanaka. She was cool, and funny, and hot, and I wouldn’t have minded getting to know her better. But then you swoop in, and that’s that, and now it turns out you were doing it deliberately? As a way of keeping your options open? Dammit, Hazō.”

He stood up and walked away.

“You should have spoken to us,” Keiko said. “While I may not have been able to offer you helpful romantic advice, I could have at least commented on the implications of attempted seduction by the heir of an information-gathering and mind-reading clan.”

Kagome-sensei just shook his head and muttered something about undefined behaviour.

​ o-o-o-o

​ Kei lounged back on her favourite tree branch, thinking. Had Hazō truly believed that Yamanaka was interested in him romantically? The heir of a world-famous clan, in a relationship with a missing-nin? Or had he believed that equality of age would somehow justify that kind of interaction? People did not automatically forge bonds of friendship with their peers. If they had, Kei’s Academy years would have been very different.

It had been obvious to her from the beginning that the Leaf teams had been placed not only to escort but to extract information in one way or another, and that when Nara and Akimichi’s relaxed approach was seen to bear insufficient fruit, the Powers That Be had dispatched Team Gai to provide a sharper, more intense stimulus. All the questions, the games, the tests of ability… And then one girl who asked Kei nothing about herself, but simply understood.

Kei might never see her again.

“Keiko, can I talk to you?”

And there was the culprit. Not that there was any meaning to blaming him. She had, gradually, made her peace. They were all incompetent in their own ways (with the exception of Mari-sensei), and Kei especially so. It would have been hypocritical of her to dwell overlong on Hazō’s folly alone.

“What is it, Hazō?”

“I was thinking about you and pangolins,” Hazō explained. “More specifically, it has become apparent to me that our team’s overall combat potential is still very limited, and that it will take time to rectify this through training and sealcrafting research. I was wondering what you thought of the idea of contracting a pangolin military combat team? Naturally, I want to help you in any way I can, such as by gathering tribute to offer them. Not that I know what pangolins like—ants? Artworks? Weapons? Seals?—but if you tell me, I will figure out some way of finding these things. Likewise, Panchipāma has proven herself as a powerful ally, and making a full pact with her would greatly improve our firepower.”

“Thank you, Hazō,” Kei hopped down from her branch. “While I believe that making a pact with a combat team would indeed be valuable, more research is necessary as to the viability of such an option. Considerations include chakra limitations, the number of pacts I can maintain at any one time, and the question of whether military combat teams can be hired by a summoner. Bear in mind that pangolin society is permanently on a war footing, and as such they may be reluctant to commit valuable assets that they might need to use in battle at any time. Nevertheless, I will look into the matter, and I am grateful for your offer of assistance.

“As for Panchipāma, I have been considering this. The problem is that we failed to provide her with the entertainment she expected last time, instead involving her into an ordinary battle against a dangerous opponent. I suspect that when I next travel to the Summon Realm, she will also express considerable displeasure at being forced to battle a biomedical sealing specialist head-on, since she may—not unreasonably—be concerned about what damage such an enemy could inflict even upon a summon.”

“That’s good to know,” Hazō said. “Oh, while I’m here, I never thanked you for persuading Jiraiya. Out of all of us, you did the most to save our lives back there.”

Kei shook her head. “You are mistaken. I failed. Miserably.”

Hazō looked at her in inexplicable confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I failed,” she repeated, as if speaking to a particularly inattentive student. “I failed as a Mori. I used the Frozen Skein in order to achieve the equanimity needed to face Jiraiya. I attempted to speak to him while remaining in the depths of the altered state, and then it broke. My cowardice was profound enough to overwhelm the full power of a Bloodline Limit.”

“Keiko, no—”

“Please don’t.”

She didn’t want to hear it. Hazō, who had never truly belonged to a clan, could never understand what it was to draw on the fullness of your training, on the very core of what made you who you were, and find it so lacking that in the moment of your greatest need you were reduced to a helpless, pathetic child.

“Keiko, you were the only one of us who made a difference!”

She froze. Ironically.

Hazō went on. “I failed to understand what Jiraiya wanted from me. Inoue-sensei never found a way to influence him. Noburi didn’t do anything. And Kagome-sensei failed to blow anyone up, though that was probably for the best. It was all you! To the extent that Jiraiya hadn’t already decided what to do with us, you’re the one who saved all our lives.”

Kei’s brain attempted to process this assertion and returned an error.

“You did better in mortal danger than any of the rest of us,” Hazō said again. “Now it’s getting dark and I still have a couple of barricades to mend, so I’ll see you later.”

Still dazed, Kei returned to her branch.

​