Notes: The first bit of this would NOT write itself, so please excuse the past-past-tense. Criticism is very welcome, as I can't figure out what about this chapter is... off. :S
You've all noticed how I've been calling the ANBU by the masks when they're on duty. Just in case it's unclear, the important ones are:

Kakashi -Hound
Ibiki -Locust
Genma - Bear
Yuugao (purple hair girl) -Cat
Hijiri Shimon (one of Ibiki's Chuunin subordinates) - Owl

Timeline: Jumps around a lot, but I think it's all marked, XD

Thanks everyone for reading and/or reviewing! XD

Laughing would be cruel, Kakashi decided, as his friend's miserable sounds travelled through to the Copy Nin's perception, but Kakashi was sporting a tender bruise on the back of his head, thanks to Iruka's obscene over enthusiasm, so he'd let him suffer - at least a little - before helping him out in any fully conscious or effort-expending way.

Eventually, realizing that he was already late meeting his team, and had to make it to the memorial before he could begin his training with Jiraiya, Kakashi pulled himself from his comfortable doze. Delivering water and pills to Iruka's wholly pitiful form, he gently manhandled the Chuunin into the shower with him, cleaning off the hung-over body as well as his own, though a little more gently perhaps.

"Never drinking again!" Iruka mumbled into Kakashi's shoulder. The Jounin couldn't quite prevent the bubble of laughter at Iruka's suffering groan, retrieving a solid punch in return.

"Do you remember anything at all?" Kakashi's only response was the feeble shaking of a brown head. Kakashi had to bite his lip to keep from laughing aloud.

After a little more fuss, Iruka curled up weakly on the bed, leaving Kakashi to hand his suffering patient a bowl before cheerily announcing his departure. Iruka threw a pillow at him for the volume.

Stupid, overenthusiastic birthday have-ers, Kakashi thought to himself fondly, recalling the impossibly loud, clumsy way Iruka had entered his own house, stumbling through the door, and laughing breathlessly as his shoulder met the frame with a thunk.

The strange noises had pulled Kakashi from his confused sleep - a relief after spending so much of the night reflecting on his past and his present; on Iruka, mostly - and he'd padded blearily into the kitchen, where Iruka had somehow managed to stumble to the kitchen table, and began to rummage around in the pile of letters making up his birthday present. Stacks of them - for each student or past student that had wanted to please their Iruka-sensei, or flatter him, or clamour for his attention.

Dozens of letters, all beginning the same way. Kakashi had crept up on Iruka, imagining blurry eyes struggling for focus as they tried to read those flattering words.

He could remember touching his lips to the back of Iruka's bare neck, chuckling low in his ear. "Useless, you are." Kakashi's arms went round his waist to steady the swaying man as he teased him. "What was it you said? My students will be there, I can't go overboard!' and here you are, completely off your pretty face!"

"Saw m'present - was it yours? From you? All of that?" Iruka had turned unsteadily in Kakashi's arms, hands flying up to Kakashi's face, holding the Jounin still as the Chuunin tried to focus heavy eyes.

"Well, no, obviously the kids wrote the letters." Kakashi felt strangely nervous under the close scrutiny, terrified of the layers Iruka might read into all of this.

"But y'made 'em do it?" Kakashi could remember clearly the heavy scent of Iruka's breath, unpleasantly sweet.

"Hmm." Kakashi had scratched the back of his head in some nervous gesture. "Yeah, I know it's kind of lame, but I couldn't think of anything else you'd wan-" Kakashi had been thrown back a few steps by the force of the kiss. Iruka's mouth had tasted of wine and ramen and wine and Kakashi drank him in greedily until Iruka began to manoeuvre them both towards the bedroom. A bad idea, it would seem, as Iruka's unbalanced weight tripped, toppling them both onto the carpeted bedroom floor.

Kakashi had made some pathetic noise as his head hit the floor, had felt disgustingly sober as Iruka's giggling turned to badly aimed caresses and wicked coaxing. Kakashi stood quickly, hauling the Chuunin up and guiding him to the large bed.

"Go to sleep, idiot." Kakashi had grinned, kissing Iruka again. He'd climbed into the bed, pressing himself against Iruka's back, not fighting as the Chuunin tugged him closer, laughing lightly as the drunken shinobi tried to move himself to face the Jounin.

"No, no way. You are not puking all over me in the morning. You want contact you point that way!" Kakashi nudged him in the back for emphasis.

"Wan' see you." The needy whine had been superbly endearing, totally unlike Iruka's usual calm commands, and Kakashi grinned when a hand hit him clumsily in the face, some rough parody of a caress. All Kakashi could think about was the blackmail he would no doubt get out of this.

"I'll go to my place, leave you here?" Kakashi had chewed placatingly at the hand still awkwardly stroking his face, trying not to laugh at Iruka's miserable protests. "Go to sleep, then."

"Happy birthday?" Iruka sighed, dragging Kakashi's arm back around his torso.

Kakashi grinned into Iruka's shoulder. "Happy birthday."

She'd loved her sensei like a father - a grotesquely perverted father who'd played favourites with the wrong kid in a horrendously dysfunctional family, perhaps - but a father nonetheless. So she tried to do his work justice in the decisions she made now. He'd made mistakes in times of war - he'd all but been forced into stepping down to avoid the monstrous mistakes he'd made during the early years of the Third Secret War - but he'd always made those decisions trusting it was the best thing to do for his people.

Yondaime had made mistakes too, but he'd given his life for his village to make up for those, and Tsunade'd prance naked - without an illusion in place - around the pyre of Jiraiya's funeral before she ever let the Fourth's beloved name be slandered within her village.

Then again, Jiraiya would probably love that - and what a fitting end to the super-pervert's life.

It was in this nostalgic mindset that Tsunade found herself - instead of working on war strategy and enemy ambush patterns - watching her most precious shinobi as they celebrated the birthday of Umino Iruka - a young Chuunin school teacher; Sandaime-sensei had shown a particular interest in.

She watched as the children - her future warriors - left, clinging to their parents, crying that they couldn't spend 'more time at the grown-up party.'

She watched carefully as Kakashi whispered in the younger shinobi's ear before joining his peers as they respectfully teased Konoha's own Beautiful Green Beast - who, on seeing the Copy Nin had begun to rebuke his Eternal Rival for his Disrespectful Lateness!

She watched as the alcohol came out; as war hardened shinobi indulged in drinking games they'd coined as teenagers as they succeeded - for just a couple of hours - to forget the harsh reality of their often short lives.

Tsunade, who had spent the last three days badgering Jiraiya into training his student's other legacy, to prepare him for a situation she prayed she could find a way out of, suddenly realised where she'd been going wrong.

She never imagined that her shinobi would still have hope - fractured and skewed and beaten, it was true, but it was there. They had hope, like they had balls - in spades. If Kakashi could break and rebuild himself, only to have Jiraiya immediately working at his flaws and hurts, if he could resist all that, and then tease his comrades like it was the most natural thing in the world - if he could be so normal, despite being always three words away from crazy - then why was she hesitating to send the Copy Nin on a mission he was made to do?

And he wasn't the only one. He was neither the best of them, nor the worst.

These shinobi were the tools of their village. It was her job to make that mean something.

Iruka's cluttered space was comforting, Kakashi realised, especially after so long living in an efficient work space. Still living in an efficient work space, Kakashi amended his thoughts. There was no point getting all attached, he reasoned. Infatuation wore off, and obsession wore out, and lust wore down, and love wore inside a person merely to break them in the end. No. Kakashi was far too realistic to go about getting attached, but this thing between the Chuunin and himself was new, very new. There was no need to panic just yet

Though he really shouldn't have bothered going to that party at all.

Still though, Kakashi found himself carefully picking Iruka's lock, taking his sandals off before putting Iruka's present on Iruka's table - the many pages of scribbled letters looked huge and messy, shoved carelessly inside a book tied with a silly little green bow that had amused Kakashi more than was natural for a grown man. The present had been easy to organize and obtain. A quick word with Izumo and within an hour all the teachers knew of the idea, the students told their parents and their parents had spread the word. Sakura had got all the past students of Iruka's, and Kakashi had only needed to turn up and collect his winnings.

The sloppily presented result, of course, had been the enormous pile of birthday letters to Iruka-sensei, ranging from the heart-felt to the nonsensical. Had it been for anyone else, Kakashi would have cringed at the thought of arranging such a plot. As it was, he found himself hoping it would please the other man. It was soppy, now he really thought about it, but had been the only thing he could really think of.

Dear Iruka-sensei,
Thank you for teaching me about compassion. Because of you I know how precious the
balance between shinobi professionalism and human emotion can be. Happy birthday,
Love, Haruno Sakura

The truth was - Kakashi was a little troubled to realize - that he really didn't know Iruka all that well. The three years of their friendship had been built around an accident, a fluke, just as this new depth to their connection had been built around a mistake that Kakashi probably should have tried a little harder to avoid.

He'd been tired the first time they'd really spoken, on the anniversary of some stupid memory, ratty and irritable after another day of being surrounded by three vibrant reminders of the great tragedies of his past - and he'd gone looking for Iruka, so certain of the other man's bland dislike of him, still fascinated by that fabulous outburst at the teachers' meeting several weeks before. He'd gone looking for a fight, and in his utter arrogance and distraction hadn't bothered to pay attention to half the little quirks and ploys he usually displayed, and Iruka - despite barely knowing him - had seen right through, as if he were one of the Chuunin's hopeless students.

Dear Iruka-sensei,
Thank you for passing me, even without any genius ability. You weren't the first to give me
courage to go for my dream of being a shinobi, but you were the first who didn't laugh.
From, Rock Lee.

They had argued that night, quite cruelly, ended it all off with a trip to Ichiraku's to further discuss Team 7 - at least as far as anyone else was aware. But how easy it was to see Iruka in Naruto, Kakashi in Sasuke, and their argument had unleashed some dull hurt in the Copy Nin that had been wanting out since the whole fiasco with Zabuza, so many weeks before. Iruka hadn't minded; he'd had issues of his own to work through, some desperate struggle to work for his students in a way he'd never been worked for that had been trampled on again; and had no objection to using this barely known superior as a verbal punching bag.

Eventually though, the spat had become ridiculous, sake had loosened their tongues, and before Kakashi had realized enough of himself to excuse his babbling, Iruka had begun to giggle into his ramen.

"We really are worse than our students'll ever be!"

And there it was, you see, the reason Iruka was so acutely attractive. He was a little darker than most people realized, and perhaps more human than anyone Kakashi had ever met. But he was sly; he could see through you, down to the worst part of you, he could strip a person bare and go right into the bones. And while he wasn't anywhere near infallible, Iruka had faith in the raw potential of his students - he trained perfectly formed, tiny little ninja every day of his life. That was his job, his greatest skill. And if Iruka could see the darkness in a child like Naruto, and look deeper still to find something worth molding - what mysteries did he see beneath Kakashi's fractured skin?

Dear Iruka-sensei,
You always stressed the importance of balance within your skills and a team unit; it has
always served my team well. Happy birthday.
Hyuuga Neji.

Kakashi didn't dare to imagine what Iruka saw in him now, now that they'd been together, taken the time to experience each other, see each other. Kakashi didn't like relationships, he didn't really understand them, and it annoyed him a little that he was falling into all the traps of one. He didn't like the idea of risking what little of his identity he'd managed to re-forge after he'd finally lost Rin, when in the midst of his wild, silent grief he'd realized how intensely fucked up he really was.

Rin had never really understood him, his motives, despite her claims of love and emotion (how could she, when Kakashi had never understood himself) - not until she lost her parents and learnt what being alone really was. Isolated from her clan - Rin had been Inuzuka in name only; lacking even the ability to fight with the Nin-Dogs they were famous for - Rin had relied on Kakashi for strength, for something; but, falling faster then she was, he'd been able to offer nothing.

Her father had been the runt of the Inuzuka litter, and his wife had been the more influential parent, teaching Rin the herbal recipes that had inspired her prodigal interest in medicine. So surely, Rin should've known that Kakashi was pure poison.

Dear Iruka-sensei,
We admire your persistence - despite what we all put you through you never gave up on us
- even Naruto. Shikamaru says your strategy is the best one. (Sorry about the hole in the wall.)
Nara Shikamaru and Akimichi Chouji.

Kakashi had lost himself, for a while, after his Sensei's death, and somehow managed to drag his last friend down with him. After that, after Rin, the closest thing to a real relationship Kakashi had been able to deal with had been part of a mission - and after the most deviously devoted six months of Kakashi's young life he'd ended up dragging a knife through the other boy's expressive face when the double-ruse had been discovered.

But Iruka had somehow withstood Kakashi's tumultuous friendship, had watched his sanity slide between neurotic worry and spitting rages, between unshakeable calm and desperate shaking. Iruka had seen the worst of Kakashi - though he'd slit his own throat before he'd ever admit that - and was still there. Iruka had no reason to be.

Kakashi had no claim on the other man, and the sad truth was that Kakashi didn't really want to fuck that up.

The sad truth was that it was far too late to worry.

Despite his throbbing head, Genma spent his Monday morning sifting through endless amounts of neglected paperwork, sorting entirely defunct mission briefings into chronological order - rewriting the title and date of each file onto a separate card so they could be cross-referenced by alphabetical order as well.

He hated this, oh how he hated it.

The worst part, by far (aside from the hangover), was the ANBU Locust's overwhelming presence, leaning over his shoulder, breathing down his neck. The few rare times he'd actually managed to find some interesting aspect of a file and begin to read through, he'd been stopped by that looming figure. The only thing the man had said in three hours was You're here to sort, not to be entertained.

"It's necessary, Newbie." The low command ran like electricity through Genma's tender head. 'ooh a new sentence!' The jounin thought sarcastically, 'It can speak!'

The Locust moved opposite Genma, carelessly moving the pile that had been placed on the chair to sit upon it, feet going atop the desk to shove at the sorted piles of paperwork - spilling them to the floor. Genma gaped, his mask hiding the furious, offended expression at his superior's actions. Don't scream, don't kill, calm down. Everything's a test.

Genma silently knelt on the floor, pulling the now incomprehensible files back into a loose pile beside his foot to be dealt with later. He tugged at the tight-fitting uniform he'd been forced to wear - the rest of the office staff walked around in casual clothing and uniform mask, so long as their tattoo was on display - he wasn't used to the close fit and he felt stifled - more like sausage meat shoved into the tight uniform than as the hot-shit he knew he appeared.

The Locust watched carefully as Genma sped up his methodical categorising, finding a rhythm to his work. Ibiki nodded to himself, pleased. The other recruits had all acted irresponsibly, immaturely. Certainly not in a manner befitting to a shinobi of ANBU level. Of the three novices to graduate with Genma, one had screamed at him - threatening him when he couldn't get his way; one had given up, refusing to work any further under such ill-treatment. The last had simpered; asking Ibiki to leave and that if it was a question of trust than there was nothing to worry about - wrong, incredibly wrong, but at least she had tried to read into the exercise.

Genma knew from the start that there had to be more to this than mere paperwork. What could an ANBU learn from doing paperwork that he couldn't learn in pre-Gennin training, or Jounin level training? The exercise was one of patience, or pressure, or something akin to both. The way Ibiki was commanding the room, silencing Genma; the way in which he loomed and insulted; the way in which, even now, he was childishly, senselessly messing up the dusty files from the careful order Genma had placed them - all of that screamed at Genma to just get on with it.

"Alright, Newbie, that's enough." The Locust's hand came down on Genma's own when the older shinobi hesitated.

"That's enough of this test, or that's enough of this part of the test?" Genma asked. "Am I supposed to carry on despite it all? Can we at least move to somewhere with real files?"

The Locust laughed as he helped Genma carry the stacks of paperwork back to the filing cabinets, cramming them in haphazardly. "No, no that's definitely enough for this test. Let's go grab some coffee."

When they were sitting in the Locust's office - blinds down, masks off, coffee in hand - Ibiki got to work.
"You accurately deduced that whole little episode was a test. How and why, Newbie?"

"The files were neglected, dusty, and useless. The content wasn't consistent or relevant - it probably wasn't even real. That's why you wouldn't let me read through any of the files." Genma paused as Ibiki nodded thoughtfully, a smirk tugging at the scars on his strong face. "You were obnoxious, insolent, totally unhelpful. Designed to either freak the fuck out of me and put pressure on the situation - how I handled that small amount of pressure might tell you how I would deal in a more important situation - or, through the messing up of my stacks, designed to simulate how'd I'd react when things don't go my way.

"Both of these things would be important in your choosing my responsibilities - if you finalise my recruitment at all." Genma grinned at Ibiki's raised eyebrow. "I know you said we all got in, but then you got us wasted. I don't trust you, Ibiki-san, sorry."

"You all got in, Genma. The ANBU choose from the potential they see and then build up their soldiers from that raw mould." Ibiki's voice was laced with humour. "However, of the new recruits who graduated with you, three of them will be shunted sideways - they'll be manning desks and filing paperwork and watching you rise up the ranks and wondering 'why?' for however long it takes them all to realise - you were the only one who didn't fuck around.

"The ANBU have wanted you for a very long time, Genma-san, we're honoured you finally opened yourself to our requests." Ibiki continued. Genma laughed, flattered in spite of himself as the other man carried on. "Now it's just a case of figuring out where you'd be most useful."

"What do you mean?" Genma had, like all shinobi unfamiliar with the intricacies of the ANBU, assumed the Dark Troops were one breed. Assumed that they all worked in the same fields.

"The ANBU are made up of four main departments," Ibiki sounded bored, like this was information he'd had to reel off countless times. "The Assassins - the solo operatives. The ANBU hound has specifically requested you do not join their ranks; I have to agree with him. You're too old for that head-trip...
"The Shadow Guards - named for their principle duty of guarding the Hokage."

"Clever." Genma smirked at the snide way Ibiki presented that fact.

"They're the ones most shinobi associate with the ANBU. The law enforcers, teamed operations and medical nin. You have a recommendation from the ANBU Cat to join these ranks, should you wish to apply." Ibiki let the fact sink in before he continued.

"I work for the Information and Strategic Analysis department. Anything to do with information is ours - translation, interrogation, strategy, development of weaponry, and often training and recruitment. They've started referring to us as the T&I squads, so if you hear that around just be aware that's us.

"Then there's the ANBU Pranksters. The go-betweens. These shinobi are the ones that go where they're needed; one day they might be hacking into some enemy surveillance equipment, the next day performing a detailed Field Op. You know enough about the paperwork and the action to make the links between the two, so, for now at least, I'm putting you with them. Any questions?"

Genma queried the other shinobi: "Why are they called Pranksters? What does T&I stand for?"

"T&I stands for Torture and Interrogation, it started off as a joke amongst the ANBU, but now it's semi-official. On all our letter heads and crap like that. That's probably how the Pranksters got their name - a joke that stuck - but I haven't a clue what it was before." Ibiki's grin did nothing to soothe Genma's nerves.
"The ANBU Boar - I'm guessing that was your examiner, the greedy bastard - works in the opposing T&I unit. For some reason which we have never figured out, he despises Pranksters. They get to him, and it's always funny to see."

"You want me to join the pranksters?" Genma asked, still slightly shocked he'd got in so quickly.

"Starting tomorrow." Ibiki rose as he finished his coffee, ushering Genma out of the office. "They'll want to train you for a while, regularly, before you go back to your normal duty."

Genma repositioned his mask as he bowed to Ibiki, leaving the offices.

He was in. Now all he had to do was stay sane.

A tiny hint on the breeze had Kakashi on alert, slouching his way downwind of the out of place scent. The lack of any visual - or even sensory reference - such as hearing or feeling the chakra of any other nin, was the only clue Kakashi needed to assume it was a threat.

Allies didn't mask their presence. That simple instinct had Kakashi pulling his book out, using the bright orange distraction to mask his roaming eyes and twitching nose as he worked to discern whether or not it was indeed a threat.

A sudden rush of air, scent and chakra as the enemy's illusion dissipated had him tucking the book away, tensing all over as he turned towards the new presence.

"So, I never pictured you trusting a school-teacher." Jiraiya grinned as Kakashi froze, dropping to a wary crouch. "Take off your hitae-ate."

"I don't know what you mean, Old Man." His voice was stiff and careful as he obeyed, throwing the scratched-up headband to the Sannin's feet, blinking owlishly as sunlight flooded the Sharingan eye.

Gotcha, the Sannin thought, smugly. "Don't flatter yourself, Brat. A Chuunin as a touchstone? What could have possessed you?"

"Those records are classified." Kakashi's voice was little more than a drawl, an odd remnant from his childhood rigidity, a flat tone that spoke nothing but boredom, had driven Obito to distraction, yet failed so utterly to mask Kakashi's emotive responses.

"Nothing's classified if you're curious enough..." Jiraiya's almost lascivious grin comforted the Copy Nin, who let out a short sniff of disdain.

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know?"

"Luckily, I'm a dog person." Jiraiya grinned wistfully as he spoke, remembering so clearly the arguments he'd had with Sakumo that had ended up with the familiar line. He wondered if Kakashi had ever known about the joke, wondered if Kakashi had ever heard a joke in his whole pathetic childhood.

"Isn't that my line?" The smirk was clear beneath the dark mask, but Jiraiya could see the wiry tension controlled in Kakashi's form. The reference was lost on him after all.

"Oh you think you're doing well, pup," Jiraiya sent a thread of chakra to Kakashi's back, appearing behind him instantaneously; Yondaime's Body Flicker. "But you've got nothing on me."

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, attacking where he knew Jiraiya to be. How wrong the Sannin was, he couldn't help but think. He might not have the stamina, the experience, the powerful enormity of the other man, but Hatake Kakashi was no slouch, either. Unbeknownst to Jiraiya, Kakashi was well aware of his sensei's signature jutsu - though before the wonderfully clear demonstration Jiraiya had just provided the implanted Sharingan, using the technique had wasted enormous amounts of Kakashi's limited chakra.

Looks like he'd learnt something from the Old Man after all.

Kakashi reined in the impulse to mimic the older shinobi, instead using only moves that Jiraiya would expect. He knew the reason for this training - at least a little of it. The whole fiasco, every little attempt to break Kakashi open - were simply to see how much he could take. There could be no greater meaning to it than that. The snide comments, the hurtful insults - Kakashi didn't understand why, he didn't know what Jiraiya was trying to prepare him for, but he trusted the old hermit as much as he trusted anyone - the Sannin had taught his teacher, after all. You didn't really get closer family than that.

He could've just said though, rather than forcing him through that bell test. A simple hint wouldn't have gone amiss, rather then letting Kakashi go in blind. A simple this test was to make sure you weren't a nut-job. The bell test, so similar to the one Kakashi had first taken with his team-mates - so arrogantly self-assured that he'd win, simply through how well he knew his teacher compared to these imbecilic Gennin he was suddenly expected to trust. Of course, what he hadn't expected was the genjutsu, the one showing him the possibility of his new team-mates' deaths, his teacher's death, his father's death. His sensei's caring voice through it all - how much do you think you can take, alone?

So if mental stamina was the test that he'd passed, physical endurance was the one he now faced. Whatever it was, it had to do with the Sharingan - they had sparred and trained a couple of times before, but until yesterday's training session Jiraiya had always insisted they leave Obito out of their exchanges. Kakashi had always thought that was just an attempt to hear him say the dead boy's name, but it had been a consistent effort, until now.

Question was, how long could Kakashi hold up against the Sannin?

Jiraiya drilled him methodically, the basic stuff - genjutsu, taijutsu - seeing just how much Kakashi could stand, how easily he could shift to normal vision with the Sharingan so headily exposed - how easily he could deny himself that power for a greater chance of survival.

When Kakashi was finally close to collapse; his gasping breaths quiet enough to allow him seclusion amongst the trees but his body's reflexes severely reduced by stress; Jiraiya gave the hitae-ate back.

"Better. Much better than yesterday," Jiraiya chuckled. "Although it's possible you just weren't trying to kill me this time."

Kakashi sat heavily, leaning his sweaty forehead against Jiraiya's leg. "...the point?"

Jiraiya sat down beside the Copy Nin, watching with slight concern as the brat grunted at the movement - almost letting himself fall forward. He was still favouring his right hand, Jiraiya had noticed, but he'd been able to use it, at least.

"Alright, brat." Jiraiya allowed Kakashi to rest against him, worry colouring his old eyes. "We've run out of time. How soon can you be mobile, and in control of the Sharingan?"

Kakashi looked up, noting the gravity, the sheer weight of that expectant look. "Let me rest for twenty-four hours, give me three hours after that to sort a few things out."

"Good. Now the crux of it." Jiraiya shifted, taking more of Kakashi's weight. "We have received intelligence outlining the involvement of Hidden Stone with the renegade and rebel shinobi threatening our village. Konoha is not prepared for war - particularly against such a specialised village. Fire can only toughen rock; we need a better battle plan than that."

"And Stone are leading them? Fuck." Kakashi finally understood why Jiraiya had been so cruel. It had been a ninja from Hidden Stone that had caused him to - that had killed Rin. It had been a ninja from Hidden Stone whose face he had slashed when the boy got too attached to his target. Kakashi's pain was wrapped in Stone, and so soon after his break, Kakashi could just see what was coming...

"We need you to infiltrate the Hidden Village of Stone. Copy what moves you can, gather any information that presents itself. We want techniques, battle strategies, allies, politics; we need you to find everything you can." Jiraiya tried to read the boy's impassive face. "We cannot risk the lives of our villagers without good cause, Kakashi. That's something you can appreciate. Nobody wants a repeat of the Third War."

Kakashi's face remained blank, his voice was strong, but he couldn't stop the deep shudder that ran through his body. "I'll leave tomorrow night, Jiraiya-sama. How long will I be gone? How will I remain in contact with Konoha?"

"An ANBU member will go with you to a certain point. That is where you'll meet every third night until your return here." Kakashi didn't miss how Jiraiya dodged the question, but decided he'd rather not know. It would be tough enough even without a time frame.

"What are my orders, Jiraiya?" Kakashi tried to form some rough plan in his mind, but there was nothing, no clue as to how this one could be approached. Ah, well. He'd just have to wing it.

"Don't get caught." Jiraiya moved to rise, ruffling Kakashi's hair apologetically. "Good luck, brat."

Gai and his students had not yet returned from a mission to help the ANBU members ready the bunkers - apparently even the abilities of the Dark Troops were lately being stretched to breaking point; Asuma was recovering in hospital from some insane virus he'd caught protecting Chouji from what he'd thought was just a simple jutsu; Kakashi was readying himself for yet another beyond classified mission (after besting Jiraiya in a fight, according to the latest rumours) - and judging by the sheer speed and intent of his normally ambling slouch, it was going to be a big one; and Kurenai was, while worrying herself to an early death over her team-mates, trapped in what was little more than a Kunoichi Boot camp.

"THRUST!" bellowed the ANBU Cat - today's mild mannered sensei. "STEP! TWIST AND JAB!"

Kurenai followed the Cat's dance-like steps, fighting down the perpetual nausea that had shaken her last couple of weeks.

It was apparently necessary - although the Hokage would not yet publicly tell them why - for all Jounin level ninja to be at ANBU level ability. Specialities were all well and good, the Gossip Vine seemed to be singing, but exactly how far will that get us when armies are pissing at our gate?

"Matarashi! Stop sticking that arse out or I will kick it to the ground!" Anko bristled in rage at the teacher's roar. "I'm serious Matarashi, your weight is off centre."

"My weight's off centre, you chunky slag?" Anko screeched inanely as the lean figure of the ANBU Cat appeared in front of the violet haired kunoichi.

"Say that again." The surrounding kunoichi rolled their eyes, exasperated at Anko's unsurprising outburst. The ANBU kunoichi tittered at the exchange; though Kurenai barely noticed for all her mind was racing. The ANBU clapped and they resumed the practise.

The problem was, Kurenai figured, as she struck her palm forward in perfect tandem with the other twenty-odd Jounin level kunoichi, (knees bent, head bowed, step through the punch to add maximum strength to the blow), that no-one knew what was coming, and so everyone was expecting the worst.

And a ninja's worst was pretty fucking traumatic.

The only difference between this sort of training, Kurenai knew, and the type she took her students through, was that this was specific, designed to build an army of shinobi, as opposed to a teeming mass of independent fighters. This was for ranks, and flanks, and lines of defence and attack, and trench formations.

This was for war.

This meant war was coming.

As a child, Kurenai could remember watching the older shinobi go through this sort of training, the almost useless attempts to improve Konoha's shinobi beyond their natural capabilities. Back then, though, the adult ninja had been too set in their ways. The ones that had thought they were invincible were trusted by mere mortals to prove themselves so. So called 'heroes' like the White Fang and the Sannin and the Yellow Flash had all, eventually, fallen to nothing; or fallen apart.

One by one, death by death, Konoha had proved itself a village of mortal men.

That couldn't happen again.

x

"You look green." Anko said, abnormally subdued as they reached for their water bottles.

"Heh." Kurenai took a long swig of water, holding the bottle against her forehead as she suppressed another queasy jolt in her gut. "I've been sick lately. It's ridiculous, every day at around lunch time. Can you believe it?"

Anko was silent for a long moment, too long, and Kurenai hoped the cool water was keeping down her flush.

"You're not..." The hyperactive, walking calamity started. "...you know... pregnant? Are you?"

Kurenai laughed loudly, brightly, and Anko's relieved grin said it all. "Don't be ridiculous - can I tell you a secret?"

"You know they're the magic words!" Anko smirked.

"I'm working on a new type of genjutsu. It'll be so great if I can just get it right!" A dreamy glaze clouded the kunoichi's red eyes. "It's just really draining. There aren't any guidelines for creating new illusion types - not like with ninjutsu - it's exhausting. It must be that, I think. Either that or I really am sick!"

Anko shot her friend a concerned look, didn't join in with that bubbling laughter.

"If it keeps on..." Anko's voice was stern, caring. Kurenai listened intently, so shocked at the woman's abrupt response. "I want you to see Tsunade-sama, or Shizune. Ok? Don't fuck around, Kurenai; you're too powerful for us to lose on a technique."

"I'm not fucking around, Anko." Kurenai bristled at her friend's coddling, only to receive another long look.

"I'm not blind, you know?" She whispers, violet eyes scrunching up slightly as she tried to smile through some unknown memory. "Everyone thinks it, but I'm not."

"I know, Anko-chan." Kurenai's brow creased in consideration. "Let's get back in line."

Kakashi was late. He was incredibly late. It was past 4pm - his students had, presumably, been waiting since 10am, unless they'd used their heads and started taking shifts at the memorial like he'd been hinting at for months - and he had about two hours before he had to meet that ANBU escort; and the elusive Copy Nin was, quite frankly, shitting himself a little at the prospect of this coming mission. He was in a little over his head.

"Maaa, sorry I'm late..." Kakashi strolled right past his students, clicking his fingers in a gesture that they should follow. They did so with surprisingly little fuss. "...I was sleeping."

The four shinobi stopped dead in their tracks as the information sunk in. Kakashi's back was facing the three deeply shocked teenagers, so that they couldn't see his slightly manic grin. 'Mustn't laugh at them - I bet even Sasuke's pulling that face!'

"WHAT!" Naruto and Sakura appeared in front of Kakashi, ranting and screeching in their indignation.

"Hn." Sasuke started. "Whoever told you that 'honesty is the best policy' should've done more work with the basics."

"Seriously, you have to stop being so normal," Kakashi mock-glared at his usually moody charge. "I won't know what to say to people if word gets out that you've lost your angst!"

Sasuke obviously wasn't amused, just glared up at his teacher - a look of intense hatred Kakashi could fondly remember from when his student had been but yay high - as he led his students to a favourite training field.

Kakashi sat beneath one of the larger trees, lounging against the rough bark as he waited patiently for the three to settle down. When Naruto and Sakura had quietened - apparently deciding between gritted teeth that if nothing else, they appreciated the Jounin's honesty - and Sasuke had lapsed happily into his usual scowl, Kakashi gestured for them all to sit with him.

"Today isn't going to be much of a lesson - I have to leave for a mission that could take several... erm... a while." Kakashi scratched at his head, squinting at the bright sunlight reflecting off the trees.

"Is that why you're wearing those clothes?" Naruto asked innocently, noticing for the first time Kakashi's lighter coloured clothing - The brown mask and flak jacket, thicker khaki coloured trousers and a tightly fitting jumper. If Kakashi hadn't been expecting it, he probably would have had a brain haemorrhage out of sheer incredulity.

"Aaa, several of the Jounin have offered to teach you in my place, so your training will continue when it can. Tsunade may also need you to take some missions - don't moan at the grading of them, Naruto, they need to be done." Kakashi paused at the amused look exchanged between Sakura and Sasuke, and Naruto's own obvious irritation.

"There is one small thing I wish for you to work on, while I'm gone." Kakashi grinned beneath his mask, hoping it wouldn't show too clearly. He nicked his thumb on a kunai at his side, making the hand seals for his personal summons. Three grey puppies sprang into existence on Kakashi's lap - the smallest of the three immediately digging his head beneath its master's hand, desperate for attention.

"All three of you have come a long way in terms of team-work, ability and responsibility. However." Kakashi looked his students sternly, exposed eye taking on a severe glint even as his hands fussed soothingly over the three scruffy bundles in his lap. "You have no idea how to lead. Not one of you is capable of considering the strengths of the other members of your team. Until you can lead, how can you follow? You must learn to respect one another, and you will work on that skill while I'm gone."

"What has that go to do with your dogs, Kakashi-sensei?" Sakura tried to sound serious, tried to be true to the new respect for her teacher that had been growing ever fonder since that fight last Sunday - it didn't take a genius to realise that it had Jiraiya to break Kakashi's hand, but she hadn't even told Sasuke or Naruto that fact just yet.

But her attempts at solemnity crumpled even as her inner self squealed at the unbelievable cuteness of those puppies. Their pointy little ears perked up and their scruffy little tails thumped gleefully as her sensei scratched beneath their tiny little jowls. She pressed her fists to her lips to hold back an 'awww' as the tongue of the smallest pup lolled out blissfully as Kakashi started attending to its sensitive neck.

"To prove your leadership qualities, you're going to turn these cute little puppies," Kakashi's eyes scrunched up in a cheerful grin as he paused. "Into Nin-Dogs."

x

Kakashi broached the border of Stone Country in the early hours of Thursday morning. As he sped into unknown dangers, totally alone with no comfort, no back up, and no support should this mission (as he had no doubt it would) turn horribly, terribly ugly; as Kakashi turned away from all manner of comfort, he decided to himself that, despite all things, whatever should happen...

...that look on his students' faces - when he suggested the training with the nin-pups - would be enough to keep him entertained for months of torture.

x

He just hoped that wouldn't be put to the test...

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