Children of the White Angel, Part II (Part 2)

[book_people]

Tsunade thanked her aide of the day, and waited until she’d left the room and closed the door before raising her eyebrow at the slightly darker shadow in the corner. Ibiki calmly stepped out of it, looking not the least bit concerned about his complete failure to use her door and/or make an appointment like a normal human being. Tsunade decided to pick her battles. “Well?” she asked.

Ibiki nodded respectfully and pulled out a few scrolls. “Hokage-sama.” He somehow managed to find enough room on her desk for the pile, and spread the first out in front of her. “To begin, it appears that Orochimaru’s former notebooks were destroyed. My apologies.” Tsunade waved a hand dismissively, mind already on the scroll in front of her. She had figured the notebooks would be gone, but it was worth it to check.

“What did you come up with, then?”

“This,” Ibiki started, tapping the scroll on the corner, “is a comprehensive report of all the interactions with Orochimaru we were able to discover. This particular scroll has them catalogued by frequency of collaboration and by date of collaboration. This one,” he continued, picking up another and spreading it over the first, “indicates the nature of those collaborations.” He did a few quick handseals and tapped the second scroll. It became partly transparent, allowing enough of the scroll below to appear so that the new information appeared to correlate with the correct collaboration. “As you can see, Orochimaru rarely worked with the same scientist more than once, and in the event that he did, their collaboration rarely correlated with previous collaborations. There were a total of six exceptions.” He picked up a third scroll and opened it up, holding it so that Tsunade could see.

“…Well, of course Danzo was one of them,” Tsunade grumbled.

“Hm,” Ibiki agreed, stern mouth turning down at the edges. There was not a single jounin in Leaf who harbored anything less than dislike for Danzo.

“What about the others?” Tsunade asked, picking up a pen and making a few notes of her own on the research correlation scroll. “What were the projects, and what were the results?”

“Kintaro Amii and Fujusaki Hato,” Ibiki began, indicating the correct scientists on the scroll, “both went to Orochimaru for his expertise in genetic sealing. Their experiments appear to have been largely successful, and resulted in an ability to mimic specific bloodline limits through permanent seal work. Unfortunately, the seals tended to either break down themselves or begin to break down the shinobi utilizing them after repeat uses.”

Tsunade snorted. “Yeah,” she drawled. “That was right up Orochimaru’s alley.”

“Indeed,” Ibiki agreed, “but it has little correlation to the specific medical experiments in which you expressed interest.” He pulled a file out of one of his larger, inner pockets and handed it to her. “That is a preliminary report on the experiments conducted.”

“Hm.” She flipped through the pages until she came across a sketched seal-eight curving lines made a knot at the base of a roughly-drawn palm before sprawling lazily outward. It followed the lines of the hand, and traced up the veins in the wrist, branching out in jagged edges and sharp angles like a tree with a broken trunk and snapped branches. The shape reminded her, suddenly, of the marks on Juugo’s skin as he’d snapped and fallen into an episode-all unleashed adrenaline and unchecked aggression. “Did either of these two work on the cursed seal?” she asked.

“Not that I’m aware of, but it is possible that either the work on the cursed seal or on these seals influenced the other,” Ibiki replied. He tapped a different name, drawing Tsunade’s attention back to the scroll.

“This associate most closely met your requirements,” he explained. “His work appeared to be on specific chakra pathways and the peculiar ways they change when various outside influences are applied. However, his work seemed to be largely through chakra blocks, and occasionally through… forcing a subject to compensate to a hindrance.” Ibiki’s mouth twisted a little, though whether in distaste or interest was hard to say. “It was informative from an interrogation standpoint.”

“Ah,” Tsunade said wryly, holding out a hand for the report. Ibiki handed it to her silently before continuing.

“I bring these three up first because, interestingly enough, they all continued the collaboration without Orochimaru’s direct input after a short period in Sound. Orochimaru sent them a number of assistants over a short period, presumably to continue his part of the collaboration and to report the results to him.”

“Hmmm… that is interesting,” Tsunade murmured carefully, feeling her eyebrows meet her hairline. She carefully put the file down on the desk. “That’s not his modus operandi.”

“No, Hokage-sama,” Ibiki agreed. “Orochimaru was historically very jealous of his work and his assistants. To allow an assistant, let alone several assistants, continue to work with someone after his direct input was no longer necessary was unprecedented in Leaf.”

“Hm…” Tsunade drummed her nails on the closed file, thinking. “Look into those collaborations, and what else the assistants worked on while they were with the collaborators.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

“Now, who’s the next one?”

*

Uchiha Sasuke showed up on time to his operation appointment. Tsunade wasn’t surprised, had in fact planned on it. So far, the fact that Uchiha Sasuke was incapable of being late (or early, but considering he generally looked like any interaction with her was somewhat akin to someone pulling his teeth out one by one, that was expected) to an appointment was the only positive piece of information she’d gathered from this cluster-fuck of an investigation.

So, when Uchiha walked through the door to the operating room and closed it behind him, standing like he was honestly concerned that something was going to jump out of the corner and lick him at any moment, Tsunade was just finishing setting up the IV and operating table. She placed the last disinfected scalpel on the operating bench and turned to him, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Have a seat,” she ordered, gesturing to the operating table, “and change into the robe there. I just have to take a look at your chart and ask you a few standard questions.” She nodded at one of the aides as he let himself into the room quietly, skirted around her patient (who was doing an admirable job imitating an inconveniently placed statue), and picked up the chart. Uchiha tracked the new addition across the room with his eyes, his mouth turning down just slightly at the edges. He didn’t otherwise move.

“I still think the procedure is unnecessary,” Uchiha said, voice steady and emotionless. “My fighting style is very effective, and doesn’t require full lung capacity.” Tsunade sighed and put the chart down, giving the kid her best unimpressed glare.

“We already had this conversation,” she responded, somehow managing to keep her voice from a growl through an impressive amount of effort. “Your lung capacity is 30% lower than it should be. I don’t actually care if you have ways around it, it’s still below accepted standards for nin in the field, and it’s easily treatable. You’ll only be on bedrest for a week and then light duty-which should be easy since you aren’t allowed to take missions right now-for four more.”

“There might be too much scarring for this to change anything,” Uchiha pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “You said so yourself. It’s a superfluous procedure.”

Tsunade crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the operating table, letting her eyes narrow. “As the head medic in this village, I think the probability that it’ll restore some of your lung capacity is high enough that it’s worth the effort on my part and the time on yours,” she told him, definitely growling a little. “Time, by the way, that we’re wasting. Sit your ass down on the table and change or opt out and leave, but pick one and stop stalling.”

“Fine,” Uchiha said, and then turned on his heel and reached for the door, clearly ready to take the “opt out” option and run with it.

“I’ll put your name down on the inactive roster as soon as I get back to my desk,” Tsunade added casually, and smirked as he paused and whirled around again.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t meet physical standards, we don’t send you into the field,” Tsunade explained, letting the smirk widen.

“I’m the best shinobi in the fucking village,” Uchiha snapped, nonchalance shattering like so much hardened clay.

“You take in 30% less air than the average person of your age,” Tsunade responded reasonably. “You’re going to run out and get stabbed through something vital, and then I’ll have to front the expense. That’s the rules, Uchiha. Meet the standards, or I find you a place behind the missions desk. You’re technically a genin, so I can’t give you an Academy position.”

The kid looked ready to spit fire, which, Tsunade reminded herself, was an actual possibility. She grinned and gestured at the operating table. “Sit and change,” she ordered.

He glared impotently at her for another minute, and then closed the door behind him, stalking over to the operating table and sitting down stiffly. He pulled his shirt off with a jerky motion folded it, then dragged the gown onto his shoulders and fastened it in the front before removing his pants. Tsunade wondered if he was under the delusion she hadn’t seen it all before, but left him to it anyway. She picked up the chart, and continued her pre-operation spiel as though she’d never been interrupted. Behind her, the aide returned to actually preparing to assist in an intrusive procedure instead of eavesdropping like a naughty child.

“You’ve already read the specifics of this procedure in the summons, and we discussed them unofficially during your last session, but I am going to go over them again for the official chart. Please feel free to ask questions,” she began, picking up a pen and settling onto a stool. “The problem is that it looks like a number of your ribs broke at some point in the past and then shifted inwards, so that they healed in a way that puts a significant amount of pressure on your lungs and cuts off your air supply.” She paused and waited for his nod of acknowledgement before continuing.

“Today, we’re going to put you under with general anesthesia, then re-break the poorly healed ribs and reset them in the correct position. I will then begin the healing process with medical chakra in order to assure that they do not shift again as they heal. Once you wake up, you will have to keep your ribs bandaged in order to maintain a certain amount of pressure on the healing breaks for a total of five weeks. I am also going to recommend that you stay on bed rest for one week and then refrain from heavy lifting or strenuous activity for about four.” She pulled a piece of paper out of the chart and wrote this down, and then set it on top of Uchiha’s folded clothing.

His eyes followed the movement before settling back on her face. “That’s an official statement of the potential side effects and treatment after you wake up. We’ll give it to you with your clothes at the end of the procedure. Unless you’d like to look at it now?”

“No,” Uchiha said flatly, clamming right back up again. Tsunade rolled her eyes inwardly before looking back at the chart and flipping to the page with the information for this procedure.

“Because of the nature of the breaks, your rib cage is going to be particularly delicate for a period, so you should keep as much weight off of your chest as possible.” She looked up from her chart at her patient, who was staring at her silently, hands carefully placed on his thighs and mouth set in a line. He was doing that statue imitation again, it seemed. “Any questions?” she prompted.

“No,” he said, this time more vehemently. She rolled her eyes openly this time as she motioned the aide over to do the preliminary checks.

“My aide is going to take your blood pressure, check your pupils, and ask you a few questions. I am going to go into the other room and put on sterile clothing. I’ll be back in just a minute, and we’ll get started.” She nodded at the aide, who nodded back and walked over to Uchiha with the blood pressure sleeve, and then left the room.

Washing her arms and putting on sterile scrubs went far too quickly, and soon she was back in the room. Uchiha had switched positions until he was lying on the table, and the aide had clearly lowered the head so that he’d be more comfortable once the anesthetic kicked in. The heart rate monitor was already hooked up, too, and the aide was placing an oxygen mask over his face and explaining that it was a standard precaution in the event that something went wrong during the surgery.

Uchiha had his jaw set like he was thinking of biting if the aide foolishly put hands too close to his mouth. Tsunade turned away and put on a pair of sterile gloves and a face mask, and then picked up the results of the pre-op eval. “Try to relax,” she heard the aide say, sounding like he was trying to be soothing. “I’m just going to sterilize the area where the IV will enter your arm.”

“I guessed,” Uchiha responded sarcastically, voice muffled by the oxygen mask, “from the alcohol swab.”

“General rule of thumb: don’t snap at people who are going to be cutting you open while you sleep,” Tsunade said absently, walking over as she looked at the results. It seemed Uchiha’s blood pressure was a little elevated, and his pupils were responsive but dilated more than normal. Looked like he was nervous after all. Huh.

The aide traded her the chart for the IV needle as she walked by, and she nodded in thanks as she reached where Uchiha was lying. “This is going to sting a little,” she told him on rote, positioning his arm for the needle (his skin was a little clammy, actually. She’d have to keep an eye on that to make sure it wasn’t an indication of a problem). “Make a fist.”

Uchiha hesitated for a second, and then did as he was ordered. She nodded as the vein in his inner elbow popped up, and slid the needle home in one smooth movement. She felt him stiffen slightly when the needle pierced his skin, but when she looked at him he was staring at the ceiling and paying more or less no attention to her. She rolled her eyes.

“Let me know when you’re ready for the anesthetic,” she told him, reaching behind her for the needle the aide had prepared. She checked it one more time, making sure it was the right dose and didn’t have any air at the tip, and then waited for Uchiha’s eye roll and jerky nod.

She rolled her eyes in return, and injected the general anesthetic into the IV. She turned to the operating bench and signaled the aide over, reaching out for the first scalpel and checking the chart one last time. First break was on the left side, so she’d make an incision at-

The heart rate monitor went crazy as Uchiha’s breathing changed-shallow and panic-fast. She whirled around just in time to see fear-stricken eyes as he rolled off the operating table, taking the IV with him. The pole tipped over towards the operating table, metal feet hitting the metal legs holding the operating table with a loud clatter. Uchiha rolled into a crouch and ripped the line out of his arm, and then tipped the table itself over and scrambled backwards towards a corner. The IV, carried by the momentum from the table, fell onto the operating bench and knocked most of the implements onto the floor. The table hit the ground with an almighty crash.

Tsunade had sprung free of the area the moment she’d seen the kid start to move, and now found herself with her back to the door and a scalpel in her hand. She released the cutting jutsu in her other hand, and kept the scalpel. “Out,” she shouted as the door opened and a few of her personal guard tried to enter (being Hokage had its perks-Tsunade had her own personal guard within shouting distance of her at all times, which was the main reason why her more high-security patients had always been given a modicum of privacy). She didn’t pay attention to whether they listened, instead watching the (very dangerous) eighteen year old currently hyperventilating in a corner of her operating room, eyes darting after things that definitely weren’t there. The bloody needle was on the ground between him and the carnage, smearing red onto the clean tiles. “Shit,” Tsunade snapped out between gritted teeth. “Uchiha!”

The brat was ignoring his arm, which was bleeding sluggishly down from his elbow in thick red lines. They ran down over the summoning tattoo on his wrist and into the lines on his hand before pooling on his clenched fingers and dripping slowly off onto the tile. He was still breathing too fast, almost hyperventilating, loud in the now silent room, back plastered to the wall and fists clenched so hard that his knuckles were white. The smell of blood slowly mixed with the antiseptic in the room. He was crouched like he’d spring at anyone who got too close, eyes so wide that his pupils were visible even in his black eyes for the instant before they bled sharingan red.

“Uchiha!” Tsunade tried again. “Sasuke!”

“No,” he gasped, pushing against the wall. He was turning alarmingly white.

“Sasuke,” Tsunade snapped. “Look around you. You are having a flashback. Listen to what I am saying, kid, you are seeing things that aren’t there.” She’d seen this enough times before to know.

Sasuke made a gasping sound and bit his lip until it bled, a single line staining his teeth and then catching between this lip and chin. He looked… very young, and very scared. Tsunade realized that he hadn’t tried to defend himself yet. “You… you have to ask him first. You can’t…”

“Sasuke! You’re here, in Leaf, with me,” Tsunade said, trying to make her voice calmer and more matter of fact. “What you are seeing is not happening. Tell me if you’re hearing this, kid.”

“You have to ask,” he snapped, eyes fluttering. “You… he said… can’t touch the Vessel without asking him…” That was the oxygen hitting his brain, then, along with the anesthesia finally starting to kick in. He’d probably been put under before-it was taking longer than it should have to take effect. It didn’t look like the blood loss was a problem yet, and Tsunade decided not to think about that possibility too much.

“Sasuke,” Tsunade tried again, even softer. “Sasuke, you are in Leaf. You are in Leaf and you are having a flashback. Come on, kid. Try to look around you. Can you see this room? Sasuke.” She took a measured step towards him.

His eyes snapped to her, and then flitted away again on a gasp, falling on the needle. He made a gasping, terrified sound that seemed to have aspirations of being a sob, and sunk down onto his knees. He pressed his bloody hand onto the floor and pushed himself backwards, pushing another against his chest like it hurt. “You… please, you have to ask Orochimaru,” Sasuke insisted, voice cracking. “You… have to ask…” his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped, finally passing out.

“Fuck,” Tsunade snapped again. “No, don’t get near him.” The aide, who had moronically started moving towards the kid, stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. “I’ll do it. You go tell the ANBU hovering outside the door that I’m going to need to transfer him back to his apartment in a few minutes.”

The aide cleared his throat, obviously pulling his professionalism around him like a cloak. “Yes, Hokage-sama,” he said, and left the room.

Tsunade waited for the door to close behind him before picking up a roll of bandages and some antiseptic wipes and making her way cautiously over to the boy. He was slumped against the wall, eyelids fluttering, breathing back to normal. He didn’t move as she approached-well, he shouldn’t. The anesthesia they used on ninja of his quality would put out a fucking elephant. She knelt down in front of him, paying no mind to the blood that stuck to the pants of her scrubs, and reached out for his arm, uncurled his fist. He’d dug his nails into his palm until they bled. She sighed and opened one of the wipes. “Who were you talking to, kid?” she asked aloud. “Why didn’t you try to defend yourself? You could’ve blasted everyone in this room. Why didn’t you?”

Sasuke didn’t respond.

She sighed and reached for his elbow, cleaning some of the blood off before pressing some cotton to the wound and bandaging it firmly to keep some pressure on it and stop the bleeding. Then she moved down to his palms and cleaned them off with a few swipes of a new antiseptic wipe. She bandaged that, too, and then moved to the other arm.

“Sorry, kid,” she murmured. “I should have noticed you were so close to the edge, there, huh? Really fucking experienced medic, right here…” He’d been covered in panic sweat when she’d inserted the IV, and his eyes had been dilated. She should have focused on that instead of the heart rate. Of course the little brat would know how to slow that down-she’d already noticed that he was way too good at masking weakness.

With that in mind, it was easy to reassess his actions and turn “annoyance” into “terror.” Particularly since he’d stopped talking at all when she’d made a quip about operating on him while he slept.

That had probably not been the best thing to say, in hindsight.

She finished with that hand and checked the rest of him over quickly, to make sure he hadn’t gotten injured in some other way in his mad dash across the room. He hadn’t, fortunately. She took a length of bandage and wiped some of the blood off his lip.

Apparently, she’d been barking up the wrong tree with this investigation. Or maybe an adjacent tree. There was one person she could think of who might fit the bill, and there could have been others like him.

She stepped back as two ANBU entered with a stretcher. “Take him to his apartment and have someone keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t wake back up in a flashback.”

She left the room before they had a chance to respond. She needed to talk to Ibiki.

*

Sound’s bases all had a particular scent-musty and damp, with a tang of cold salt from the minerals in the walls and smoke from the oil lamps and torches that gave its inhabitants some semblance of light. Sasuke smelled the walls of his old room in Sound before he opened his eyes to them, mind slowed from kicking off the anesthetic and blood loss and limbs heavy with-

He froze, and tried to move his arms again.  The straps dug into his wrists, making his fingers throb from the slow loss of circulation. He gasped, sharp against his raw throat, and felt the cords holding him to a backboard tighten against his shoulders and legs-too tight, too tight, that asshole always bound you too tight if he didn’t want you to move, what had-

The memory forced itself through the fog in his brain, of lying on his stomach with his arms and legs bound, the cold, sharp pain of an incision at his back and the click of an electrode that shot through his entire body, and the blood in his mouth as he bit down on his tongue as that fucking voice warned him to say if he stopped feeling his legs, and then the electricity had started and he’d screamed anyway. His back and legs throbbed, as though waiting for him to remember just to hurt, and he couldn’t breathe-

Something landed on his chest, and he kicked it off before even really thinking that it shouldn’t be possible while tied to a backboard.

“Ow! You asshole, those were my fucking ribs. Damn it, fuck, ouch, what is wrong with you-“

Naruto shouldn’t be in Sound either.

Sasuke blinked, and felt the room shift around him a little, his room somehow ending up alongside his other room, the one in his new apartment in Leaf, with the window that he’d screened so he could keep it open and the huge, thick, heavy bedspread and one blond idiot clutching his ribs on Sasuke’s floor and keeping up an impressive litany of insults for someone who was insisting his ribcage was shattered. Sasuke’s stomach rolled, and he sat up and drew his knees to his chest, disoriented. He felt sick.

His back was still throbbing.

“Shut up,” he snapped, voice cracking. He felt his throat and lungs burn from even that, and he realized he was panting. He forced his breathing slower and tried again. “Shut up, you loud, obnoxious, moronic waste of space, why the fuck would you jump on someone while they’re sleeping-“

“Fuck you, see if I snap you out of it next time you have a fucking seizure or whatever the fuck was going on there-“

“It’s called a nightmare, you idiot.” Sasuke’s head throbbed and the cords tightened on his ribs again, the room shifting back towards Sound, with its cold and its damp musty stone. His throat tightened, and he forced the words out to the apparition of Naruto lying on cobblestone in the dark. “Maybe you’ve heard of them, people with brains occasionally-“

“I fucking know what a nightmare is, you jackass, your eyes were open-“ Naruto pounded on the floor-stone?-deep blue carpet for emphasis, the sound muffled by the wool fibers, glinting on sunlight in a cold, dark room. “-and I fucking said your name four times, it’s not my fault you-“

“Shut up,” Sasuke snapped again, and shut his eyes tight against the rolling in his stomach. He breathed again, feeling the cold start to let go of his bones a little, the warm sunlight finally reaching him through the memory, leaving him shaky and weak and sore, but very much not in Sound. He swallowed, and let go of one leg to swipe at his face. “There’s no dealing with you, fuck.”

Naruto made a huffy noise, and Sasuke lifted his head and looked over to see Naruto reclining on the floor, scowl firmly in place and jaw working, like he had a few things to say about that but, due to some sort of miracle, had decided not to let whatever it was spew out of his mouth in a litany of self-righteous crap for once.

He breathed in carefully, and choked on the last vestiges of damp stone, stuck in his nose like he’d left it just a minute ago, like he hadn’t been here in his room the entire time. The sudden urge to blow his nose got him carefully straightening his legs and swinging them off the bed, ignoring the numb stiffness he always had in the mornings and after pushing too hard for too long with the ease of long practice, and took a determined step towards his bathroom.

His knees tried to give out on him, and the room spun from the drug still leaving his system, but if Naruto noticed the moment of shooting panic before Sasuke got his shit back under control he didn’t say anything.

“I was at the hospital,” Sasuke stated, reaching for a tissue and blowing the rest of the memory out of his nose. He felt… it was hard to say. Calm was the wrong word. He felt like he was holding onto composure by his finger nails, and he certainly wasn’t what anyone would term steady. But he felt-detached? He poked idly at the feeling, and then stopped immediately as panic bubbled up from underneath.

“What?” Naruto asked, walking over to lean the door to the bathroom, not quite blocking the door with his fat ass. “In your dream you mean?”

Sasuke twitched, and eyed Naruto as cuttingly as he could. Like he’d talk about his dreams with anyone. Naruto was grating on Sasuke’s last nerve, making his skin crawl. He was blocking the exit, and Sasuke didn’t like it. “No, you stupid waste of space. Before I woke up. I was at the hospital with the Hokage.” Naruto stared blankly, and Sasuke, in what he felt was a heroic effort, did not slam Naruto’s useless blond head into the doorframe. “How did I get from there to here?”

“ANBU brought you,” Naruto said, raising an eyebrow. “You freaked out before Baa-chan could get going, and passed out like a little girl. They brought you home and stuck me on babysitting duty. And then you tried to kick in my ribs.”

Sasuke felt his control snap. He grabbed Naruto by the front of the shirt and tugged, got in his face with a snarl, so gloriously angry he was breathless with it. “Get. Out. Of my apartment.”

Naruto snarled back, bared his teeth wide enough that Sasuke could see his canines, the lines on his face stretched to look like whiskers, eyes shining in-was that triumph?

“Fuck you,” Naruto growled, and then grabbed Sasuke’s arms and hooked his still shaky knees. Sasuke went down like a fucking log, but he held onto Naruto’s shirt and took him with him, making sure to hit Naruto right in the ribs with both his feet as he threw Naruto over him and into the toilet. The ceramic shattered with a crash, water shooting out of the pipe as the toilet fell to pieces, ceramic dust clogging the air and pasting onto the two men as they rolled onto their feet. Naruto made a sound that was half a gasp (bruised ribs) and half a bark of laughter, lunged at Sasuke’s legs and used his weight to propel Sasuke ass over teakettle out of the bathroom. He punched the air out of Sasuke’s lungs and used the momentum to leave Sasuke behind, jumped to his feet and planted himself near the window, sliding it open almost as an afterthought. “That the fucking best you can do?” he asked, only a little breathless from the chest injury because he was a fucking cheating jinkuuriki who healed in fucking seconds.

Sasuke snarled and shoved off the ground, caught Naruto by surprise with a solid punch under the chin, and back kicked him through the window. Naruto caught the ledge at the last minute and slid down the building, chakra-laced feet leaving burnt streaks on the wood as he went. Sasuke jumped out after him, intent on wiping that fucking grin off Naruto’s fucking face, who the fuck did he think he was, Sasuke was going to rip his face off-

The damp, hot breeze passed over the town, carrying with it sun-baked wood rot and the first stirrings of ozone. The rain wouldn’t come for another six hours, after the sun had fallen and Sasuke and Naruto had cheerfully beaten each other almost unconscious in a mad game of deadly tag through the village that ended in the river near the bridge where their genin team used to meet. And if Sasuke wasn’t quite as solid on his feet as he usually would be, Naruto was probably too dumb to notice.

*

Tsunade put down the medical chart in front of her before Ibiki even entered the door to her office, mouth set and eyes intent on her new source of information. “Report,” she ordered, not even waiting for him to finish closing the door and turn around completely. Ibiki blinked at her, but complied.

“Uchiha Sasuke came to at approximately 1430 hours, apparently in the throes of another flashback. Uzumaki Naruto had already been stationed in his room for such an eventuality, and managed to provide a grounding presence throughout the episode. Shortly thereafter, he provided a quick distraction.”

Tsunade made a face. “Yeah. He distracted him all over the fucking village. Did he report himself?”

“No, Hokage-sama.”

“Well, when he does, tell him he is cleaning up the property damage by his fucking self.” Tsunade sat back in her chair again and sighed. “Did he at least manage to get those reflex tests I asked for?”

“Again, Hokage-sama, I don’t have the information at this time.” Ibiki looked a little put out. “He hasn’t reported in, and the ANBU guard on Uchiha thought it would be… imprudent to interrupt.”

Tsunade raised an eyebrow. “Imprudent?”

Ibiki shrugged from his at-ease position. “No more a problem than usual yet.”

“Hmmm…” Tsunade let it go. Those two were a headache and a half, even for the third member of their team, and Tsunade was not about to get into the middle of it. She had more important things to worry about.

“Good. I want that report as soon as it’s in, even if it’s just another bout of Naruto lying through his teeth about Uchiha’s mental state. That said, I’d like to talk to you about the… related investigation.” Ibiki nodded politely to indicate that he knew what Tsunade was talking about, and she continued. “Recent intelligence into the parolees seems to indicate that…” she paused, felt her mouth twist into a frown. Juugo had broken nearly a year’s worth of control over a routine blood test, and Sasuke’d had a full out flashback and panic attack in the preliminary stages of an operation-had spoken to someone who wasn’t there as though this was something that had happened before.

“They seem to indicate,” she said again, “that someone who had regular access to them in a medical role may have been responsible for the incidents we are investigating.”

Ibiki frowned. Tsunade wondered if he had understood who she was referring to. He was head of intelligence for the village, after all. He would know about the man she was thinking about. “You would like me to change the direction of the investigation, then?”

“I would,” Tsunade said, frowning. “Whoever had access to the Vessel and the foundation for the cursed seal was rather high in Orochimaru’s organization. Likely, Orochimaru would have trusted them with other projects. Perhaps even allowed them to work as his representative during collaborations outside of Sound. I want you to look into the aides he sent directly-see if there are any patterns in the type of work they do.”

“Understood, Hokage-sama.” Ibiki looked grave, eyes hooded, as though he were already reorganizing the investigation in his head. “Was there anything else?”

“Yes,” Tsunade said, equally grim. “Tomorrow morning, order the parolees back into interrogation. Apparently, they neglected to tell us something.”

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