"Overkill" is a pauper’s word. It is used by those who fear to apply overwhelming force too often lest they run out. When one has mastered efficient resource management, every kill is made with the certainty of overkill.

—Mori Ryūgamine, the Angel Without Mercy

-o-​

Mori Ami was known for her bizarre self-invented (some would say self-inflicted) forms of training, from “the floor is larvae” (spend a day without touching the ground, while otherwise carrying on with your normal routine) to “too lazy to walk” (get as far across Mist as possible solely by Transforming into a series of inanimate objects). Given that she was the Mori Clan’s youngest jōnin, these practices were clearly more useful than they looked, and so wherever Ami was at any given time, and whatever she was doing, most people just shrugged and let her get on with it.

Today, Ami’s self-assigned training was to clean the room of her cousin Riki, a nice enough boy but also a complete slob. Such a shame, given that it was an excellent upper-floor room, spacious and providing a commanding view of the front gate and surrounding streets. Of course, it had taken a lot less time to tidy than anyone would expect—it was easy when you went in with an organizational scheme already in mind, and your work consisted mostly of picking each object up and moving it where you’d decided it belonged. She took particular pleasure in rotating the box under the bed just the right number of degrees. Let Riki sweat over the unanswerable question of whether this attractive older girl had discovered the improper woodcuts inside—hopefully it would inspire him to get better at storing sensitive materials the way a ninja should.

But pranking the careless was just a side benefit. The true point of the exercise was that when Keiko appeared at the end of the street, guided by the proctor who'd diverted her as a special favour, Ami knew she was the first to see them.

(Timer starts. Two hundred seconds for Keiko to reach the gate at her current speed. Hesitant pace. Wandering stare. Shift probabilities.)

Ami gave the room a last look-over in case she needed to spend some of her buffer time on finishing touches. Of course she didn’t. If you wanted to do a job properly, you made sure to allocate enough time before you started.

Her tread on the stairs was light, quiet enough that nobody downstairs would hear her before she saw them. Not that there would be anyone downstairs. Over the last few days, ever since she’d heard about the visit, she’d been dropping oblique comments about the clan’s failure to sufficiently honour its fallen. Attendance at the Garden had soon tripled, leaving far fewer people randomly wandering the compound. Her mother in particular would be there all day—Ami had “accidentally” woken her up early in the morning, when her low blood pressure would influence her mood, then reminisced about Aunt Noriko over breakfast. Her father, meanwhile, was in his study, poring over the security reports she’d sent his way.

(Timer ends.)

She was here.

Ami, who was prepared for everything, was taken completely off guard by the torrent of blazing joy. Keiko. Her Keiko. The sister she was afraid she’d never see again. The cutest kid in the world and her unknowing saviour. Keiko.

Ami touched the Frozen Skein briefly, just long enough to slow her racing heart. She still needed to stay in control here. This could go badly wrong, in a thousand ways, and it was the big sister’s job to keep the little one safe. (A job she’d failed at so badly, and now she was being given a second chance.)

That control served her now. She glanced up past Keiko, to the chimney of the house opposite the gate. She couldn’t see the ANBU hidden in its shadows, but it’s where she would be if she was tailing a visiting VIP. Her hands still at her sides, she tapped out a little pattern against her thigh. Privacy, please. And then, Pay you back later. She hoped it was Stargazer up there, who had a crush on her, or at least Stonefish. Just as long as it wasn’t Krait, who overcharged for small favours.

Keiko was staring at her. When had she grown so tall? When had she learned to stand straight? When had the girl who was always on the verge of crumpling under the weight of the world learned such defiance?

Ami heard a faint shuffling noise from the cloister behind her.

(Timer starts. One hundred seconds to father’s study at a swift but proper pace. Three hundred as father continues to read documents, making a show of not caring about his prodigal daughter’s return. Two hundred for him to finally arrive.)

Keiko took an uncertain step forward. Then another one.

Ami mirrored her, forcing confidence into her own movements. She had always been Keiko’s rock. She had always known what she was doing. This was no time to drop the façade.

One more step. Another. And then Ami opened her arms and Keiko ran.

Ami silently thanked the Sage for chakra adhesion as the impact rocked her backwards. Then everything else was lost, melted away by Keiko’s warmth. Their parents gave affection as a reward; her lovers gave affection in hopes of receiving the same. But Keiko just gave. Without reasoning. Without hesitation. Like a wellspring that never ran dry.

In the background, Ami’s various timers kept running, and some thought processes collected data while others analysed it, but for a few perfect seconds they could all do it without her.

“I missed you,” came the whisper, and she didn’t know whose it was, and didn’t care.

For however long, there was only warmth.

But the timers didn’t stop for love. Ami had to be in control, always in control, because nobody else shared her skills and her priorities. So she felt for the clues her sister’s body gave her. The slight tension in the shoulders. The catch in the breath. The fingers, pressing a little further apart than usual. Keiko felt guilty, and afraid of what would happen when either of them pulled away.

(Shift probabilities. Eliminate and reallocate.)

So Ami didn’t pull away.

“Welcome home, runt,” she allowed herself to keep pretending for a little longer. “I always knew you’d find your inner badass someday.”

“Ami…”

Ami knew it would happen this way. She’d always known that when the time came, Keiko would either break or ascend. It was how they were made. So when news had come of Keiko’s survival, that she hadn’t broken, Ami alone had known what it meant.

Except that after Keiko had stopped Ami from breaking, Ami hadn’t been there to do the same for her. Her duty had been fulfilled by strangers, and that thought made Ami burn with gratitude and jealousy alike.

Ami stepped back, gently, just enough to see Keiko’s face.

“The Chūnin Exams, huh?” She kept talking in part just to keep talking, to put off the moment. “You have no idea how proud of you I am. Like, if I didn’t have my incredible chakra control, I’d probably be exploding right about now. I mean, I didn’t doubt for a second that you’d get strong enough someday, but I had no idea you’d do it so soon. I haven’t even finished baking the cake.”

Keiko reflexively raised an eyebrow.

“OK, or started baking the cake. Or learned how to bake. Or how to cook. But let’s not get hung up on the details.

“So how was your trip around the world? Did you meditate under waterfalls and wrestle bears? Discover lost cities? Learn unspeakable forbidden techniques? Tell the Mori Voice where it can shove its condescension? Find true love? Hold on to my shuriken?”

Keiko gave her the classic long-suffering look that she’d been waiting for. “Varied. No. Yes. No. Not yet. I don’t know. Yes.”

Ami grinned. “Man, I can’t wait to hear all the stories. Especially about your love life. You have no idea how slow the gossip’s been lately.”

“I exist for your entertainment, dear sister,” Keiko said with a deadpan that could sink battleships.

(One hundred and fifty seconds left.)

Their time was up. Keiko couldn’t afford a connection with the Mori, much less a vulnerable emotional one. Not until she assumed her full power within the Nara Clan and decided for herself what to do with it. Right now, Ami knew five different people on the Mori side alone who would exploit Keiko ruthlessly in order to shift the balance of power between the two clans.

“Still, I can’t believe how cunning you’ve become, runt. You’ve gone from a missing-nin to the Hokage’s daughter, all in order to finally find your way back here. Those old farts who doubted that you were really my sister can stick that in their pipes and smoke it.”

“That is… yes… thank you, Ami.”

Somewhere out there, Keiko had apparently learned to keep the distress out of her voice, but she still hadn't learned not to be "Kei" when she lied. Real deception wasn’t about hiding your feelings. It was about being the person that you would have been if you hadn’t had those feelings to begin with.

And now, Keiko had to leave, before she got caught up in a confrontation with the clan authorities. So Ami would cast one final dart, the most powerful kind of lie. The kind that was true.

“I was afraid, you know,” Ami said in the low, thoughtful voice that she only used with Keiko, during those times when intimacy was more important than the super sister act. “Not that you wouldn’t survive and grow up to be amazing. But you were always far away, further with every report, and I kept thinking: what if you couldn’t come back? What if you couldn’t keep your promise to me?”

Keiko’s hands were exactly the kind of relaxed that meant they weren’t being curled into tight little fists.

“I’m sorry, Ami,” she said quietly, without knowing that Ami knew what she was really apologising for.

For a moment, Ami felt the weight of damnation, her sentence for finally manipulating the one person in her life who had always been pure. Then she was in control. Always, and inescapably, in control.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Ami said in the default tone for strangers, light and bouncy and giving away nothing at all. As jarring a contrast as she could manage. “We’re honoured to have you here. Since you’ve been away for some time, would you like a tour of the compound? Or perhaps I could offer you a meal? You'll be amazed at how much Minako’s cooking skills have improved.”

A second's shock, a second to understand. And then the light drained out of Keiko’s eyes.

“No, thank you,” Keiko said hollowly. “I should return to my quarters. I am… glad to see that you are well.”

She turned around. Walked as far as the gate. At the last second, she looked back briefly, hoping, begging.

Ami gave her a sunny, empty smile.

Keiko walked away.

(Timer ends.)