FIC: Hazardous Missions 101 [SAKURA genfic series] ch. 4

[shortitude.livejournal.com]

Title: Hazardous Missions 101 [chapter four]
Author: Cella [stereotype_vamp]
Fandom:Naruto
Ship: Genfic
Rating: Teen+
Summary: “I’m going to hell.” “Now, Sakura, becoming a teacher won’t get you in hell.” SAKURA. CHILDREN. On teaching, slices of life, children, learning, bitch-fights, useless missions, more children, clones, campfires, girl troubles, even more children, and lots of ninjas.
Spoilers: None.
Dedications: To Rose, Jen and Sorah. They all know who they are, and why they’re so utterly important to me. Thanks for the boost. If this doesn’t work, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.
A/N: Thanks all for your helpful comments. This chapter is dark. There’s still humour in it, but this one’s a dark and sad one. Had to be done. Please read the notes at the end.


CHAPTER FOUR
Three Cheers For Lady Sorrow

If Sakura had to call her assigned team anything by the end of the first month, it wasn’t what everyone else called it.

Some people called her team average. Those people didn’t matter, in Sakura’s opinion, because they were wrong, and therefore stupid. Team 3 was not average. Sure, it didn’t have a taijutsu expert, or a weapon expert, or a genjutsu expert, or an Uchiha, Hyuuga, Kiba, and so on. If bloodline counted, her team had Mara. As an Akimichi, the young girl was doing well in demonstrating the world that she could very much beat everyone up without the need of being slim. As for the rest, they’re just skill. Expertise is earned through tears, sweat and blood. Not by being born into it. The problem was when Sakura would start to consider which area would suit which student.

Sakura would call her team ‘full of potential’. Hana was starting to show a lot of potential in chakra manipulation—something that pleased Sakura to no end—but was also deadly accurate with her aim. Jiro, it seemed, had a great memory, as well as good abilities in hand-to-hand combat. Some of his jutsus needed polishing, but nothing vital. And as for Mara, she’d started showing more interest in becoming a ninja, after her talk with Sakura. The girl had begun practicing the various Akimichi-clan’s techniques, as well as taijutsu. Jiro and she seemed to have a lot of fun sparring against each other.

Regardless their interest in specific categories of the ninja way of fighting, Sakura still faced herself with the most difficult task. Setting them a pattern.

------

As usual, a routine in their game, it seemed that whenever Sakura had doubts about herself, she would go to Kakashi. The reasons were simple in most cases:

If she went to Tsunade, the Hokage would just shoo her out the door and ask Sakura where the hell she’d hid all her sake.

If she went to Naruto, the man would just nod and encourage Sakura that everything she did was perfect.

If she went to Sai…well…it was Sai. It could only end in blood. His.

In this case, however, she went to her former-sensei for the sole reason that he knew what to do in these cases. Personal experienced helped more than brains or encouragement. Or alcohol.

So after about a month since his departure, Kakashi returned from his mission. He was tired. He wanted sleep. He wanted his comfy bed. And he wanted to avoid the hospital as much as possible.

But, as the saying goes, if Mahoma can’t go to the mountain…

“What are you doing in my apartment?” Kakashi asked, a neutral look on his face.

Sakura looked up from the book she’d been reading, and smiled. “Wetting your plants.”

One—the only visible—eyebrow raised as he plucked the book out of her hands, looking at the cover. “Icha Icha Paradise? Really, Sakura…”

“I was curious. It’s like psychology. Getting into the brain of your perverted old sensei by reading his porn books,” she defended, unfazed.

“Well, if you’re gonna start copying me in every aspect, pick an updated version,” he droned, putting the book on its shelf, and taking a seat. “That one has about your age.”

“I’m not copying you,” she muttered. “So…you should lock your apartment, you know?”

“Why? So it could be a challenge to get in?”

“There is that. And because people could steal things from you.”

“They wouldn’t. Why are you here? Really.”

“Alright, alright. I need your help with something. Something about my students…” she said, then after a moment added: “And someone has to check you for injuries since you won’t go to the hospital. Old brat.”

Kakashi shook his head. He got no respect from these young people.

------

Twenty minutes later, Sakura had him checked fully for any injuries, gave him the ritualistic ‘there’s nothing that wrong with the hospital, you should visit…if only to see my cheerful face after a long and tiring mission’ versus his own ‘what cheerful face, Sakura?’, followed by a bit of ‘if you don’t come to the hospital next time I’ll drag you there kicking and screaming like a baby, and then you’ll see the people go that was the famous Copy Ninja…once’, and ending with Kakashi’s famous dotdotdot answer. Following that, Sakura neatly offer to prepare some dinner while she mulled him for all the information he had.

“So far, Mara will stick to the Akimichi jutsus. I’m thinking of asking Chouji to train with her whenever he has the time, but I don’t want to separate the team just yet. I remember what happened when you started teaching Sasuke, and left Naruto in Ebisu-san’s care. One part of the team always ends up neglected,” she said, stirring into a pot full of noodles.

“You know, Sakura, it was never my intention to—“

“I know, I know. I got over it, didn’t I?” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder.

“With the way you treat me sometimes I think you still hold a grudge,” Kakashi muttered, flatly.

“I do it because I care.”

“Abusive…”

“Shut up. Anyway. So as I was saying, Mara’s got the Akimichi techniques, but if she ever wants to do something else, I won’t stop her. Hana has good aim, and Jiro is good in taijutsu, but I’m not sure…I don’t want to restrict them. I want to have them—“

“You can’t have them being the best in every domain, no matter how much you want it, Sakura,” Kakashi murmured, helpfully. “My advice would be to train them equally in every domain there is, making sure they’re good. After they’re good, then you can choose one speciality for each—or better yet, let them find their calling and chose it by themselves.”

“Like you did with Sasuke?” she asked, quietly.

“That was—“

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…ugh. Here I am, asking for advice, and I’m ruining the whole dinner atmosphere,” she muttered, before pouring the noodles into different cups.

“I thought Sasuke was a bit like I was in the past,” Kakashi admitted, a moment later. The kitchen was bathed in silence.

“And you tried to help him not make the same mistakes?”

“I think,” he began, rubbing his chopsticks together, “I think in the end I only made it worse.”

Sakura placed a bowl of noodles in front of him, then let her hand dwindle on his shoulder. “He chose the path he chose all by himself. The only thing you did was to teach him a jutsu. But every other step was his own. Don’t burry yourself under the angst, eh?” she said, smiling a bit. “Or I’ll drag you out of there and it won’t be pretty.”

He nodded in appreciation, and Sakura sat down. And waited, looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked, smirking slightly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re famished. Come on, Kakashi, eat the lovely dinner your lovely student cooked for you,” she sang.

“Ex-student. And you only did this to see my face, didn’t you?” he asked, watching her with a critical eye.

“You think I’m capable of such a thing?”

He raised an eyebrow, and answered. “Yes.”

------


In the end, Sakura ended up leaving shortly after dinner, but only when she made sure Kakashi wouldn’t dive straight into that river or regrets he so loved to swim in.

The dinner had been productive—even if Kakashi hadn’t taken off his mask, eating only after she’d left his home, the sneaky bastard. At least now Sakura had a more clear view on what she had to do with her team.

On her way home, however, she saw a familiar figure, training on her team’s grounds. She jumped into a tree and peered closer.

It was Jiro.

“What are you doing up this late, kid?” she asked, jumping down beside him.

He turned around, blushing slightly like a kid caught with his hand in the cooking jar. “Well, I…I couldn’t…”

“You know,” Sakura started, a hand perched on her hip. “I understand you want to surpass your brother, but exhausting yourself like this isn’t going to help.”

“You don’t get it, sensei, it’s more…it’s more complicated than that…it’s just…”

“Does it have to do with family business?”

The boy looked at her for a moment or two, as if debating with himself on what to say next. Then he stiffened, and turned away to gather up his weapons. “Forget it, sensei. It’s nothing you should care about. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Sakamura,” she growled, and the boy tensed. “I’m your sensei. Of course I fucking care. If you don’t want to tell me, fine. But don’t get lost on the road to power. It’s not a pretty trip.”

He paused, his back towards her. Nodding once, he said, “Don’t compare me with your old team-mates. This has nothing to do with it,” and then he left.

------

That night, Shikamaru was jostled awake by the familiarly strong grip of Haruno Sakura.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” he grumbled, irate.

“Ino gave me the key. It’s an emergency, wake up. I need your genius mind. I’ll compensate you in…whatever it is you want compensation,” she whispered, dragging him out of bed.

It seemed it was in Shikamaru’s genes to be dragged around by everyone. Or better said, by women. Or better said, his boss, his workmate, Ino, and his mother. Four of them were bad enough, either way.

“So, say that again. Ino gave you the key to my apartment?” he asked, taking a seat on his couch while Sakura brought the coffee in. Normally he’d never let anyone touch his kitchen, but at the moment he’s too lazy and sleepy to care.

“Yeah, bout right,” she answered, taking a seat beside him, then placing two folders on the table in front.

“My…girlfriend…gave you the key to my apartment, so you could visit me in the middle of the night?”

“No, Shikamaru, I’m not going to ravish you against the couch,” Sakura said, sighing in an irate fashion. “Now can we get down to business?”

He sipped his coffee, and was silent for a moment. “…not even a little?”

She gave him a blank stare. Then raised an eyebrow in a dangerous manner, leaning forward in what was supposed to be a sensual way, but—

“Right, okay, business, then,” Shikamaru said, picking up a folder. “What’s this emergency about?” he asked, clearing his throat. Loudly.

Sakura was fighting a smirk. She took a sip of her coffee, and proceeded. “I want to find out the most I can about Sakamura Jiro, and his family. I want to know why he trains so much, why he wants to surpass his brother when said brother’s only a Chuunin, what are his traumas, the whole lot. I need to know what keeps my 11 year old student training in the middle of the night, alone.”

For two hours, they reviewed every little bit of those two thick folders Sakura had brought in. Some of them contained pretty classified information that, in Shikamaru’s opinion, meant only one thing. Sakura had obviously done some breaking and entering in the archive room. The day this woman becomes a mother…we’re doomed.

Two hours passed, therefore, with comments from each, whenever they found something important. Sakura had at one point summoned a paper where they noted down every bit of information. In the end, they had something potentially frightening.

Sakamura Jiro
11 years old
Both parents: alive
One older brother: chuunin. Aged 16.
Family is very traditional. Older son inherits.
Medical History:
Age 0-after three months of incubation, the Sakamura’s second son was declared a healthy baby. Mother: okay.
Age 3-Sakamura-san has brought their second in for the necessary check-up before ingression in the Academy. Son presents good health. Strange anomaly near the eyes. Possible new bloodline development.
Age 5-Sakamura Jiro presents the remarkable health of a boy his age. Anomaly seems to have disappeared. Prescribed glasses for bad eyesight, temporary.
Age 7-Sakamura Jiro ingresses for two months, presenting a strange formation in his retina. Diagnosed: cancer. Placed for surgery.
Age 8-After using the healing Jutsus, Sakamura Jiro has recovered from his disease. Secondary effects however, are present, such as the change of his eye colour, and loss of hair. Also loss of appetite, and apathy. Respectable parents have decided to pull Sakamura-kun out of the Academy.

For a long full ten minutes, neither moved.

“Shit,” Shikamaru murmured, his coffee gone cold.

Sakura couldn’t agree more.

------

It was a good thing the next day had been Sunday, and the kids had the day off, because Sakura didn’t know if she could’ve dealt with seeing them at that time.

So she’d spent that day setting her next plan of action in course. Therefore, when Monday morning rolled in, she arrived at the training grounds with a scroll under her arm and a smile on her face.

“Wake up, brats, it’s mission time today. We’re going on our first real mission, an escort to an old man. You’ll love this one, it’s all filled with walking around, watching how trees move, and trying not to get killed by a branch,” she explained.

The girls stared at her, while Jiro was busily avoiding her eyes. “Sensei, why suddenly a mission…you said we weren’t prepared yet,” Hana started.

“Well, you’re not fully prepared for a C class mission. But this is a D class, and it should be very easy for you to conclude. The point here is to gather up experience, in the field, in training, in missions, in everything. You can learn all you want from books, but when you do a jutsu you do it from your body, not from your books.”

“And…you think we’re ready for this?” Mara asked.

“I think you’re prepared to give your best. And I think you’re ready for this mission. The thing is, I’m going to increase your training from the minute we return. We’ll do weights, taijutsu, ninjutsu, genjutsu, we’ll train with weapons, I’ll teach you the basic medical healing, everything’s going to go up one level—and I’ll be deciding on giving you each a special jutsu to define you.”

“Why?” Jiro finally spoke.

“Because, my dear brat of a student—and I am so glad you asked—I plan to prepare you all for this,” she said, and opened up a scroll.

Chuunin Exams: 15th October

“Chuunin exams? But those are only…three months from now!” Hana said, eyes wide in surprise.

“I hear people die in there—“

“People do not die in there,” Sakura said. Well. They did, but what was the point of letting them get scared so fast? “Are you going to whine like babies? Or are you going to take this as a challenge to be the best? You know, in the village they smirk at me because my genin team is average. I have no special super bloodline, and no extra-cool kid. But I think they’re wrong. I think you’ve got potential. I think you can do this. Definitely. So. In or out?” she asked, looking at them seriously.

“In,” Hana said, smiling.

“Definitely in, sensei,” Mara agreed.

Jiro wasn’t looking at them, rather staring at the still-opened scroll. After a moment, he lifted his head, grinning widely. “Let’s show the village how wrong they are.” Thank you, sensei, his eyes said.

Sakura just smiled, accomplished.

____________________________
A/N: Poor Jiro, right? ;.; Anyway, right. Jiro had cancer. Yes, had. He doesn’t have it anymore, because they managed to extirpate it on time. Is cancer possible in Naruto-verse, you ask? Good point. I think it is. After all, people smoke. People smoke, and drink like holy hell. They can have cancer. It’s just that they don’t cure it the same way. So Jiro was cured by Jutsus that I’m not going to create, so we’ll leave that obscure for the sake of plot. And not sounding ridiculous. Because Nomorecancer-no-jutsu? Just. No. Anyway. His baldness, now you have your answer, comes from secondary effects. Just like chemotherapy. Right. That being said, I’m sorry and promise to return to my usual humour in the next chapter. However, that ending made me weep. Kishimoto-sensei so would write such a thing. Ah…clichés…