It was almost time for lunch, and Teams Sarutobi and Inoue were taking their time on a slow walk to a ramen place where Akimichi apparently got hefty discounts as a frequent customer. Inoue-sensei and Sarutobi were hanging back and having their own conversation while the genin had theirs, and Kagome-sensei was silently staying near the fringes of the group and looking like he was ready to bolt at the tiniest provocation (Hazō was doing his best to stay close to him just in case, and he thought Inoue-sensei was too).​ ​ “So,” Hazō asked casually, “what do very important visiting dignitaries like ourselves go to see in Leaf? Are there any culturally important sites? What is Leaf’s war memorial like?”

“Honestly, it’s a bit gloomy for my taste,” Akimichi replied, pulling out some dried apple to chew on. “Just rows of memorials, like a graveyard. I wouldn’t go there unless I had to.”

“I like the statue,” Nara said meditatively. “It’s abstract but still meaningful.”

“Oh, the statue?” Akimichi livened up. “Good idea. It’s a great representation of the Will of Fire. Really puts the whole thing in a different context.”

“What’s the Will of Fire?” Hazō asked. “Akane kept talking about it, but she never really explained what it meant.”

“What’s the Will of Fire, huh?” Sarutobi took a drag of his cigarette, then let the smoke billow upward. “That’s a big question. There’s a whole philosophy wrapped up in those three little words.

“The First Hokage, the creator of the shinobi world as you know it, was the one who came up with it, and he summed it up like this:

“The meaning of life is love. Love is the will to protect. The will to protect is the Will of Fire, which warms your comrades and illuminates your path even as it burns your enemies.”

“Actually,” Nara said in a flat pedantic voice, “it originated with Murakumo no Hisashi, an early Fire Country daimyō. The Senju looted his writings during the sacking of Hakujō in the Warring Clans period.”

“You mean a civilian came up with the Will of Fire?” Yamanaka demanded. “No way.”

Nara shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, Murakumo didn’t manage to accomplish anything with it. He ruled for less than a decade before he died of daimyō natural causes.”

“What do you mean?” Noburi asked.

Inoue-sensei was the one to answer. “I know this one. Was he assassinated by a ninja?”

Nara nodded. “He is only remembered today because the Senju came across his work when they destroyed his castle.”

“So gotta ask,” Noburi said, “how do you live in the Land of Trees and More Trees, and decide that fire is your go-to symbol for protection?”

Yamanaka snorted. “I ask myself the same thing every day. Or I would if I cared, which is close enough.”

Everyone looked at Nara.

He gave a put-upon sigh. “How troublesome. Well, Murakumo lived in a time of war, and he wanted to tell people that their protective impulses were right and proper in and of themselves, but that taking them too far led to everybody getting hurt, and risked destroying everything in the end, like a wildfire annihilating a forest.”

Unseen behind the minders, Keiko’s eyebrow twitched.

“Of course,” Nara went on, “he was just some minor philosopher without any real influence, so when he died his writings were lost for centuries. Then when the First Hokage was founding Leaf, he decided to make the Will of Fire its foundation. He thought that uniting the Fire Country clans into one village would allow them to protect what was important instead of constantly fighting with each other.”

“Good job, Shikamaru,” Sarutobi said. “Didn’t expect a history lesson out of you.”

Nara scowled.

Sarutobi looked back to Hazō. “Anyway, there you have it. The Will of Fire is at the heart of everything we do here in Leaf, and it’s why we’ve always been the world’s strongest village.”

How strange. Mist didn’t have anything like that. The original Mist ninja had been the strongest because they were able to tame the sea, the ultimate hostile environment. But they lacked unity, which was why the First Mizukage had been able to defeat them in detail, bringing them under his dominance one by one and binding them together with his incredible will. This new coexistence made them realise the value of peace, and over time they became willing tools of a greater power, which made them so efficient and coordinated that no external force could threaten them. There had been no verbalised philosophy behind any of that, just pragmatism and historic inevitability.

“Sorry for the trouble, Nara,” Hazō said. “I’m grateful for the explanation.”

Nara grunted.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Hazō went on, “you seem like someone who does a lot of planning, and from what I’ve been told about the Ino-Shika-Chō, it’s usually the Shika part that’s the brains of the team...”

Sarutobi, Akimichi and Yamanaka turned to look at him all at once.

“Uh,” Hazō froze.

“What Hazō’s trying to say in his usual inept way,” Noburi cut in, “is that you’re just like us—you’ve got one person specialising in analytical work, one person who does the heavy lifting, and one ninjutsu specialist, plus the leader. Well, we picked up a couple more along the way, but you get the idea.”

“Nice save, Wakahisa,” Yamanaka laughed. “So did you have a point to make, Mr Clever Analyst?”

“Actually, he’s the dumb muscle,” Noburi stage-whispered to her. “You want the quiet girl over there.”

“Shut up, Noburi,” Hazō finally said. “As I was saying, Nara, do you happen to have any favourite organisational tools? I prefer lists myself, though there’s a lot of varieties I haven’t even begun to explore.”

Nara seemed to liven up a little. “Three-dimensional diagrams. Each piece of paper represents a layer of a cube, so as long as you use proper notation, you can draw different types of relationships between different forms of content without compromising clarity.” He paused. “But then nobody else can read them so the information ends up as a pie chart anyway.”

“That sounds… fascinating,” Hazō said. “If you have some free time later tonight, could you show me?”

“Yes,” Keiko spoke up for the first time. “I believe I would also find it very educational.”

“Nerds,” Yamanaka muttered. She, Noburi and Akimichi exchanged commiserating looks.

​ o-o-o-o

​ “Psychotherapy?” Yamanaka amazingly managed to pronounce it through a mouthful of ramen. (It wasn’t clear to anyone whether Jiraiya was in fact supposed to pay for lunch, but they decided to put it on his tab just in case, and leave the rest to bureaucracy.)

“That’s right,” Hazō said. “We heard there was such a thing when we were in Tea, and then there was that mention of mental health help earlier… so how does it work, exactly, if you don’t mind me asking? Or is it a Yamanaka clan secret?”

“Yes and no,” Yamanaka said. “We use Yamanaka techniques as part of it, but a lot of it is just talking about what we find. But since you have to work one-on-one with a Yamanaka over a long period of time, you have to be pretty rich to afford it, or get the Hokage’s Office to subsidise you. Plus, some people are weird about having their minds read. Why, you starting to feel crazy?”

“Uh,” Hazō said. He couldn’t exactly deny it, but how did you say yes to a question like that? He decided to settle on a half-truth. “Actually, I was worried about our other teammate. She’s been severely injured, and it could be putting a lot of mental strain on her.” No direct lies; Inoue-sensei would be proud.

Yamanaka nodded sympathetically. “Have you been to see her yet? You should bring her flowers. Every girl likes flowers.”

“She’s got a point,” Noburi said. “You’re way past that stage in your relationship, Hazō, so you really need to start catching up with the gifts.”

“Oh,” Yamanaka said delightedly. “Is that how it is? The forbidden love of a Leaf genin and a missing-nin… Can a maiden’s pure Will of Fire melt the cold heart of a brutal killer? Or will a cruel fate force them apart just as it forced them together?”

“It’s not like that at all,” Hazō glared. “I’m just her master.”

This made Yamanaka’s eyes shine even brighter.

“Oh, it’s that kind of relationship? Wow did I underestimate you, Kurosawa. You’re hardcore.”

Hazō wordlessly looked to Inoue-sensei for help, realising a second too late what a bad idea that was.

“Hazō!” she gasped in mock surprise. “You and Akane? It wasn’t that long ago that you were trying to get Keiko to let you tie her up!”

The cigarette dropped out of Sarutobi’s mouth at roughly the same instant as Keiko facepalmed.

“Kurosawa,” Akimichi said seriously, “It may not be my place to say this, but you shouldn’t two-time girls. You’re only going to end up hurting their feelings.”

“He never said he was two-timing them!” Yamanaka said. “Seeing as how they’re all still teammates, and they know about each other and they aren’t fighting or anything… we could be seeing a three-way relationship in the flesh!”

By this point Sarutobi’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, Inoue-sensei and Noburi were laughing uncontrollably, and Kagome-sensei was staring at them all in utter bewilderment.

In the background, Nara slowly raised his hand. “Check, please!”

​ o-o-o-o

​ “Seriously, though,” Yamanaka said one merciful explanation later, as the group headed to a shoe shop, “she’s in hospital. Get her flowers. It’s like the most basic team care. Let’s swing by the Yamanaka Flower Shop on the way out and I’ll get you a discount.”

“Wait,” Hazō said, setting aside the fact that he knew about the relevance of flowers, and was already going to get Akane some, and would have said as much if Noburi hadn’t suddenly opened his big mouth, “you’re telling me the Yamanaka Clan, one of the most powerful clans in the world, with the unique and incredible power to read minds, runs a flower shop?”

Yamanaka grinned. “Thanks for the compliments, Kurosawa, but I’m not joining your harem just yet.”

“Actually,” Keiko saved the conversation from another descent into inaneness, “it is not unknown for major clans to own small businesses like this. They are typically used as fronts for espionage and—”

“So now our shopping’s done,” Inoue-sensei said, “how about we drop by the hospital and see if Akane’s allowed visitors yet? What was her doctor’s name again? Yakushi something?”

“A hospital?” Kagome-sensei demanded. “Are you crazy? You want us to go to where Leaf is running its experiments, and just hand ourselves over for raw materials so they can put tentacles in our ears and turn us into chakra zombies and who knows what else?”

“You make a point,” Inoue-sensei said before any of the minders could respond. “Why don’t we go buy everyone some chocolate for now, and talk about this again later?”

“That’s right,” Hazō chipped in. “Weren’t you working on a watertight protocol for buying food safely?”

“No such thing as a watertight protocol,” Kagome-sensei said. “You start thinking your precautions are foolproof, and bam! All the plants are spontaneously combusting and you can smell the colour pink. Still, it’s a good protocol, and... chocolate…”

​ o-o-o-o

​ Dr Yakushi’s office was surprisingly tidy by comparison with the Hokage’s, with the desk occupied only by a single spread-out scroll. The man poring over it was much younger than the middle-aged scholar Hazō had been expecting—maybe even younger than Inoue-sensei—but he did at least have the requisite grey hair and round glasses (which served as yet another reminder of Leaf’s wealth).

“Ah, you must be Miss Ishihara’s team,” Dr Yakushi smiled. “My name is Yakushi Kabuto. Feel free to take down your disguises—we’re all friends here, and besides, I am a member of the Arikada interrogation team.”

Hazō gave him a questioning look.

“The names you gave for your appointment didn’t include anyone by the name of ‘Hazō’,” Dr Yakushi explained, “and I feel certain that one of you must be ‘Hazō-sensei’, since Miss Ishihara repeated that name many times during her semi-conscious period. And since you are collectively responsible for saving a Leaf ninja, I really would like to meet you face to face, so to speak.”

He even spoke how Hazō thought a doctor should speak, measured and slightly detached, but at the same time warm and reassuring.

“I don’t think so,” Inoue-sensei said. “No offense to you, doctor, but we’d like to preserve our privacy as much as possible while we’re here in Leaf.”

“Inoue-sensei!” Hazō snapped. “This man saved Akane’s life.”

He dispelled his disguise. “I’m Kurosawa Hazō. Thank you again for what you’ve done, Dr Yakushi.”

Dr Yakushi walked out from behind the desk and extended his hand for a handshake. Hazō took it with Kurosawa Handshake no. 3, “I am a dignified person showing you great respect”.

Dr Yakushi looked down. “Is that… a preset handshake? How fascinating. Then you are one of the Mist Kurosawa?”

Hazō blinked. “Yes, but how did you…?”

“Ah, well,” Dr Yakushi’s gaze slid briefly across one of the bookshelves, “I happen to have something of an interest in Bloodline Limits. They include some of the most powerful bioweapons and bioweapon counters both, you see. But to meet a Kurosawa in the flesh! I don’t suppose you’d be interested in coming by to help me with some tests during your stay? Nothing invasive, just a few measurements to see how quickly you learn different movements, things like that.”

“No!” Kagome-sensei barked. “You’re not cutting up Hazō for your sick experiments, you stinking leech!”

Hazō could see Inoue-sensei open her mouth to interrupt the imminent tirade with a “Kagome!”, then close it again as she realised she couldn’t use his name in front of the doctor. Fortunately, the chocolate must have worked, because Kagome-sensei left it at that.

Dr Yakushi held up his hands placatingly. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir. The kind of human experimentation you’re thinking of is forbidden in Leaf, even on criminals and civilians, believe it or not. Medical research in Leaf is constrained by stringent ethics.

“Now, Mr Kurosawa, would you grant me my humble request?”

Hazō considered. Dr Yakushi had saved Akane from certain death, and that put Hazō forever in his debt. But at the same time it felt like a bad idea to commit to something he didn't entirely understand without at least checking with Inoue-sensei first.

“If I have time,” he finally gave a safe answer. “I do owe you a great deal for saving my apprentice, Dr Yakushi, but we have various authorities we have to answer to while we’re here, so my time isn’t really my own.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” Dr Yakushi looked down in apparent embarrassment. “It was my duty as a medical professional, and besides, I was able to gather a great deal of valuable data while working on her body, and that was a horribly inappropriate comment and I do apologise.”

There was an awkward silence.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hazō saw Noburi nod slightly to himself.

“Don’t worry about it, doc,” Noburi said as he released his disguise. “I’m Wakahisa Noburi and I don’t see anything wrong with you trying to expand your scientific knowledge while you work. I mean, isn’t that how you got the skills you needed to save Akane in the first place?” He offered his hand.

Dr Yakushi shook it. “It’s very kind of you to say so, though I fear you overestimate my skills a great deal. The fact that people call me a leading expert in the field only reflects the lack of other specialists.”

He looked from Noburi to Keiko.

“The demands of social courtesy should not outweigh basic information security,” she muttered, not meeting his gaze, and ignoring his outstretched hand.

Dr Yakushi kept his hand out with an open, friendly expression. Keiko lasted for an extremely long time, but finally caved in before he did.

“Mori Keiko,” she said quietly, turning off the Transformation Technique, but she never looked him in the eye or shook his hand.

“Hm. Mori,” Dr Yakushi said to himself. “Mori, Mori, Mori, Mori… ah, Mori.”

He smiled and moved on to Kagome-sensei, who glowered at him.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Kagome-sensei growled. “Everyone else might fall for your filthy tricks, but I can see right through you. You so much as touch one hair on their heads, and boom!” He flicked his palms open suddenly in Dr Yakushi’s face.

Dr Yakushi leapt back with flawless ninja reflexes, coming down in a crouched defensive stance behind his desk. Hazō and the other genin stared.

“Yes?” Dr Yakushi looked at them in puzzlement. “Despite appearances, I am a shinobi. I daresay I would have trouble using medical ninjutsu otherwise.

“But hospitals are places of peace and recuperation. Do please avoid violence here.”

“I apologise for my teammate’s behaviour,” Inoue-sensei said. “I’m sure you can’t blame us all for being a little on edge, circumstances being what they are.”

She gave the three genin another glance, with a shadow of resignation.

“Inoue Mari.”

The two locked eyes as they shook hands, and the handshake lasted a little bit longer than was natural.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Inoue,” Dr Yakushi finally said. “I’m glad to see that Miss Ishihara will be in safe hands when I am finally ready to release her from my care.”

“That’s the reason we came here!” Hazō said, glad to finally get to the important part. “Well, that and to thank you. How soon will Akane recover?”

“Hm,” Dr Yakushi said, taking off his glasses and wiping them with a cloth before giving him an answer. “I do not give fine estimates as a matter of principle. Human bodies are very individual things, and giving an inaccurate prediction carries all manner of dangers. Suffice to say that we are speaking in terms of months rather than weeks.”

“Can we visit her?”

“Ideally she should have peace and quiet, but looking at it another way… I will say five minutes. Ten at most. Only one person, and you must not disturb her in any way. Light conversation only. Fashion. Celebrities. The weather. Whatever it is teenage girls concern themselves with in their spare time. Nothing that may stress her. Am I understood?”

Dr Yakushi’s glasses glinted with a hint of menace.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Hazō said.

“How about gifts?” Noburi asked.

“No foodstuffs for the time being. She will be on a strict hospital diet. That may be a source of stress in and of itself, I'll grant you, but it will accelerate her recovery. Light reading material, perhaps. Laypeople underestimate, I believe, how little stamina a person in intensive care possesses, and how quickly it is drained even by the least mental effort. Flowers, though you must check for allergies first. Trigger an allergic reaction in my hospital, and you will be banned until further notice.”

“One more thing before we go,” Noburi said. “I’m actually training to be a medic-nin myself, and I was wondering… would you do me a huge favour and let me shadow you for a little while? I bet watching a master like you work would make my own skills skyrocket, and I’m happy to do all the dirty work as your assistant.”

“Hm.” Dr Yakushi looked at Noburi appraisingly. “Much of my work is classified, and I am going to be very busy working on the Arikada case. It would be difficult to find any activities in which the presence of an assistant could be both acceptable and useful.”

But the tone of his voice suggested that he was still thinking about it.

The silence stretched on for a bit. Noburi’s expression gradually became more and more disappointed.

“But I suppose there is one way.”

“What’s that?” Noburi asked instantly.

“As I mentioned, I have a strong interest in Bloodline Limits. In fact, I’ve written a monograph on purposefully altered chakra systems, though that was more related to the chakra channels in the brain and eyes. An opportunity for detailed observation of the Wakahisa Bloodline Limit in action, as you use medical ninjutsu and study new techniques of my own choosing, may justify the drastic disruption to my schedule that would be involved. And of course I would have some questions for you, which seems only fair since I’m certain you will have many for me.”

Noburi looked hesitant at this.

“No clan secrets, of course,” Dr Yakushi said quickly. “I assure you, I have every respect for the principle of classified information. But matters you might consider trivial, ones which might even be taken for granted in your home village, could be a great contribution to my research at no cost to you.

“Hm,” Dr Yakushi said, “I find myself beginning to warm to the idea. My position prevents me from taking on apprentices in the usual way, and yet there is so much that I could potentially share. All my experience, so much little-known lore, even the values that have made me the doctor I am today. And of course, the opportunity is as unique for you, since other doctors would not be cleared to know your identity, and would hardly trust non-Leaf strangers like yourselves even if they did. As it is, I foresee hours of filling in forms and arguing with the Hokage’s Office before I can make your desire come true… but I trust that you will make it worth my time and effort.

“So yes, Wakahisa Noburi, I agree to your request. I shall clear the matter with the Hokage’s Office, and you should clear it with your minders, and expect to hear from me tomorrow with details of our schedule.

“I look forward to working with you.”

“Thank you, Yakushi-sensei,” Noburi said emphatically. “I promise you won’t regret this!”

​ o-o-o-o

​ Ishihara Akane, the world’s best apprentice, was alive. Alive and awake, and a lot paler than usual, but she was able to sit up in bed when she saw him (with a wince), and that was more than enough for Hazō.

“Hazō-sensei!” she said quietly. “You came!”

“Akane!” Hazō almost rushed over, but forced himself to obey Dr Yakushi’s admonition and walk slowly and calmly to her side. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve mostly been asleep,” Akane confessed. “Everything hurts, but I am alive. I didn’t think I was going to make it.” Then, even more quietly, she added, “I’m sorry I failed everyone, Hazō-sensei.”

“What?” Hazō stopped. She’d done what? To whom? When?

“You didn’t fail anyone, Akane. I’m the one who should be apologising for failing to protect you!”

Hazō silently cursed. This was the exact kind of high-stress conversation Dr Yakushi had told him to avoid.

“No, please don’t blame yourself,” she said. “I wasn’t youthful enough. If I had been, I would have spent more time training so something like this wouldn’t happen. You weren’t too slow to dodge Arikada’s attack. He wouldn’t have been too slow. I just… I hate hospitals.”

Hazō was caught off-guard by the non-sequitur.

“I lost a big chunk of my life to this hospital,” Akane said. “Even after I was allowed to stay at home, it never let go of me. Bi-weekly check-ups, instructions to my parents… I should be grateful to it, to everyone who put so much effort into helping me get better. But now I’m back here, and I hate it. I’m back to the person I was before, weak and helpless and letting everyone down. Only this time I’ve already had my second chance.”

“Akane, that’s just not true,” Hazō said fiercely. “You got hurt on a mission, the way everybody does sooner or later. Remember when the mountain ninja hurt Inoue-sensei? She needed bed rest too, but it didn’t make her any less of a person.”

Akane shook her head, then blinked a couple of times to clear it from what must have been a burst of dizziness. “Thank you trying to make me feel better. You’ve always been the more youthful one out of the two of us. But I messed up and I could have got everyone killed. And when I look back, it’s been like this all along.

“I got tricked by Mizuki-sensei because I was too gullible. I fell for the Liberator’s brainwashing because I was too naive, and you had to save me. I nearly got us all killed by Kōta because I was too trusting, and you had to save me. I collapsed from chakra drain because I was too stubborn, and you had to save me. I nearly got killed by Arikada because I was too incompetent, and you had to save me. I’ve enjoyed travelling with you so much, but I think maybe you would be better off without me.

“When I’m better, I think I should take Jiraiya-sensei’s offer and come back to Leaf, where I’m not going to hurt the people I love. Or maybe I should quit being a ninja altogether if they’ll let me. I could convince them I’m unfit for duty.”

Hazō had never seen this side of Akane. It was like talking to a completely different person. Even Keiko didn’t talk like this (most of the time). Had the trauma really hit Akane that hard? Or were there things she’d been bottling up all along, behind that unswervingly cheerful exterior? Why had he never thought about that before?

Well, if ever there was a time to tap into his supposed powers of Youth and deliver an inspirational speech, this was it. Hazō opened his mouth and prepared to try to surrender to the weird stream of consciousness that kept coming up with things Akane somehow found meaningful.

But before he could, Akane slumped back in her bed. “Thank you for coming to visit, Hazō-sensei. But I think I need to sleep now.”

She hesitated. “Would you… come see me again? Just until I feel better?”

“Every day,” Hazō promised. “I’ll help you feel youthful again if it’s the last thing I do.”