If you could change anything about the village, what would it be?

That was the prompt for this year's essay contest, and Hiruzen Sarutobi had looked forward to reading what the academy students had written for weeks. His duties as Hokage kept him from interacting with the youth of Konoha as often as he would have liked, and the essays allowed him to see the village from a child's point of view. The prompt was one which had been set before, so he had a few ideas about what he would find. Most would likely be complaints about the academy or other students, and these he would turn over to the chunin in charge of such things; others would involve clan politics, and these he would delicately set aside to be forgotten—he could not intervene in clan affairs, no matter how much he might wish to.

Then, there were children like Hanako.

The child had settled into life in Konoha very well, and Hiruzen had noticed a marked difference in Kakashi's behavior. Gone were many of his self-destructive tendencies, and he was taking fewer and shorter missions, spending more time in the village. Hiruzen hadn't seen her, himself, since officiating her adoption into the Hatake clan, but others, particularly her senseis in the academy, had expressed amazement at her intellectual prowess. She was far from the only genius in the village, however, so he'd payed little attention to such things beyond ascertaining that she was well.

Perhaps, if he'd paid more attention, her essay would not have rattled him so badly.

Nearly three times as long as those written by her classmates, Hanako Hatake's essay tore into the heart of village politics, questioning the entire system from the bottom up and then back down. Her words were cutting, her criticisms valid, and, worst of all, her perspective foreign. If Danzo got his hands on this essay, there'd be nothing Hiruzen could do to keep him from ejecting the child from the village. At the very least, she offered up solutions to the problems she identified, and even put effort into tracing the roots of each issue, doing her best to absolve living persons of any guilt beyond complicity.

Hiruzen sighed, lighting his pipe with a minor jutsu. He couldn't pick Hanako's essay as the winner of the contest no matter how much she deserved it, because then the essay would be available to the public and Hanako would be exposed to the wrath of the council and clans.

What to do, what to do?

He looked up as the door to his office opened letting in Shikaku Nara, his Jounin Commander. At the sight of him, an idea began blooming in Hiruzen's mind.

"Ah, Nara-kun," he beckoned the younger man closer. "Come, read this."

"Hm? Are these the essays from the academy?" Hiruzen watched as Shikaku read the essay, taking great pleasure as his eyebrows climbed slowly up his forehead. "Who wrote this? Hiko Hatake? Kakashi has a kid?"

Hiruzen chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Yes, he does. She's a precocious little thing, only seven years old and already completely disillusioned with our society. Her name is pronounced Hanako, by the way."

Shikaku let out an explosive sigh. "Seven, huh? Can't say I'm surprised, if she's Kakashi's. How troublesome."

Hiruzen nodded sadly. "Indeed. I confess, I'm not sure what to do with her. She couldn't even read three months before joining the academy, you know. Two years later and this is what she's writing. I worry she will surpass her senseis before she graduates."

Shikaku whistled lowly as he returned the essay. "Wow, all that, huh? Sounds like she could do with an apprenticeship."

Hiruzen smiled around his pipe. "I thought so, as well. Do you have any suggestions?"

The younger man gave a slouching shrug. "I dunno. Kakashi might be the best choice, as her father and all, but he's more of a doer than a thinker. It depends on her other skills, too, though..."

He trailed off as Hiruzen reached into a drawer and pulled out the girl's academy file. He accepted it with a snort, shifting his weight as he flipped through it.

"Her taijutsu needs work," he said idly. "The academy might not be a bad place for her if she focuses on her shortcomings. Sure, it'll be intellectually stifling, but the Nara have gone through that, ourselves."

True, but not what he'd been hoping for.

"Hanako Hatake has a kekkei genkai," he said carefully. "One unique to the village and which her father cannot teach her to manage. It should be listed there, in her file."

Shikaku flipped to the page and his eyebrows rose again. "A seal? Well, short of calling back JIraiya-sama, I'm not sure anyone can help her with that."

Indeed. That was an issue. The other nations really hadn't been thinking straight when they banded together against Uzushio. Now, the whole world suffered for their loss.

"Still, do you know any jounin willing to take an apprentice? I'd like to keep our options open, for now."

Shikaku rolled his neck, sighing. "Well, if you want someone who can both keep up with her mentally and help her improve everything else, then there's only-." He leveled a glare on his Kage. "You could have just asked, you know."

Hiruzen hid a smile behind an exhale of smoke. "Would you have been as amenable if you hadn't reached this conclusion yourself?"

"How troublesome. At least let me meet the kid, first."

"Gladly."

Shikaku Nara never should have met her.

The kid was small, too small, with wild, curly brown hair and big, black eyes that saw more than they should. There was a weight to her gaze, a gravitas that even shinobi his age sometimes lacked. It was...disturbing to say the least. His son was smart, but he still looked at the world with a child's eyes. That innocence was reflected in how he spoke, how he wrote, and his interests.

This kid had none of that.

Seriously, it was like talking to a tiny adult.

She sat beside her father, watching the shogi board with genuine interest as Kakashi lazily moved a piece.

"So," the masked man said. "Is there a reason you invited us over, Shikaku?"

Shikaku chuckeld wryly. "What? Can't a man just want to play shogi?"

Both Hatakes raised an eyebrow at that, and he felt his smile widen.

"Tell, me, Hanako-chan," he began, countering her father's attack easily. "How are you liking the academy, so far?"

She cocked her head to one side in that dog like way that Hatakes and Inuzukas had. "It's fine, why?"

"Just fine, huh? What do you think about graduating early?"

Kakashi looked down at his daughter and she rolled her eyes at him. They must have had a similar conversation, then.

"I think it would prove detrimental to my social development."

What.

That was not a child's answer. A child, even his own, would have said something like 'I don't want to leave my friends' or 'it'll be lonely', not...that.

"Mah, Hana-chan," her father said with a laugh. "I turned out alright."

The blank stare she leveled on him only made him laugh harder.

"The Hokage has expressed an interest in assigning you to an apprenticeship," Shikaku finally admitted. "You're just too far above your peers academically to warrant keeping you in the academy."

"Academically, yes," she agreed readily. "But I am also behind in many ways. I don't see how an apprenticeship would close the gap in skill."

Exactly what he'd told the Hokage. Damn.

"I agree with you," he said, closing in on Kakashi's general. "But, the point of an apprenticeship is not to pump out well rounded shinobi. It's a matter of specialization. Normally, apprenticeships are granted to chunin, or older genin, who have shown promise in one field or another through their mission work. Their potential develops in the field, revealing natural aptitudes and hidden talents that might not have been obvious in a classroom setting." He set down a piece with a satisfying clack and met the little girl's too serious gaze. "You're a little different. All of your senseis have expressed fears that you will soon surpass them, and then the only classes you'll be benefitting from are the jutsu and kunoichi courses. There is also," he added, watching her expression carefully. "The issue of self-esteem. You may not find the coursework difficult, but there are others who do, and with you setting the bar so high, many of your peers may come to resent you and themselves for their failure."

She lowered her gaze and he cursed the Hatake propensity for masks. Kakashi still managed to be expressive, but those were all emotions he wanted people to see. His daughter—that was still such a weird concept, Kakashi as a dad—on the other hand was a blank slate, totally unreadable except for the emotions in her dark eyes.

"I think," she replied slowly. "People who find comfort in blaming others will do so regardless of whether I am there or not. If the success of others is enough to discourage them, then they are probably in the wrong line of work."

Again, that was not a child's answer.

Shikaku exchanged a glance with Kakashi and the other man turned to his daughter.

"Kiddo," his voice was gentle, but firm. "Is there a reason you don't want to graduate? Your senseis offer every term, you know."

Did they? Shikaku hadn't known that. So, he had a genius child who chose to remain in a class far below her level.

Interesting.

Hanako's eyes were trained on the shogi board, straight brows furrowed ever so slightly. Tentatively, she reached out and moved one of her father's pieces, preemptively countering one of Shikaku's traps. "I don't want to attract unwanted attention," she said quietly as she withdrew. "There are people watching me, and I'd really rather they didn't. Graduating early, securing an apprenticeship—these are things that will sharpen their focus. I...I don't want to leave the village."

Shikaku was confused. A rare and uncomfortable feeling that he looked to Kakashi to dispel.

The masked man sighed. "The kid's mother's from outside the village. The council isn't very happy about that."

That...explained some things, but—.

Damn it, now he was curious.

"Does it help to know that your apprenticeship would be with me?"

She looked up at him, visibly shocked. "W-what? But you're—you're the Jounin Commander!"

"So? There's no rule saying I can't take an apprentice."

Her eyes flitted back and forth and Shikaku took a sick sort of pleasure in knowing he'd surprised her.

"But...," she looked up at her father. "What would I specialize in?"

"Analysis." Three eyes locked onto his face. "More specifically, tactics and protocol. Maybe cryptology. It depends, really."

Father and daughter looked to each other, a silent conversation passing between them. Then, Hanako leaned forward, bowing deeply from the waist like a proper clan heir. Which she was, he remembered belatedly. How troublesome.

"Thank you, Nara-sama, for your offer of an apprenticeship. I graciously accept."

She came out of her bow and smiled beneath her mask, a light in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Shikaku resisted the urge to shudder.