Backslide-Blackkat

Chapter 8

Sarutobi sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose, wondering if he's simply seeing double and that's why his desk looks like a file cabinet exploded on top of it. Team assignments are always a tedious time, and his personal investment in this particular class doesn't change that.

The damned traitorous Academy teacher hasn't helped matters any, either.

I'm too old for this, Sarutobi thinks, restraining another sigh with difficulty. He was too old when he passed his hat on to Minato, and he's too ancient for it now, when Minato is dead and his son is a genin hated and feared by the civilians, hated because he's feared. It's not fair, and while Sarutobi is never one to indulge in such thinking, has been a shinobi far too long to assume it bears any weight at all, but sometimes even his practicality is overwhelmed in the face of the bad hand Naruto drew in this life.

Right now, as it stands, the only successor who won't turn the village inside out within a month is Tsunade, and she's sworn never to come back. Maybe he'll have the hat until he dies, and that's a grim thought indeed; Danzo will doubtless use the chance to snatch up the position with haste, pry it right from his cold, dead fingers. While Sarutobi believes that Danzo believes he has Konoha's best interests at heart, he doesn't think the execution of those interests will result in anything less than tragedy. And Danzo will never see it, because as much of an old war hawk as he is, he still has an idealized notion of humanity, and it's never sat well with Sarutobi.

The sigh finally escapes, heavy and low, and Sarutobi turns back to his paperwork, berating himself for letting his mind wander. He really is too old, but there's no alternative to be had. At least for a few more years.

He's smiling to himself, picturing the reactions of the general populace to learning that their new Hokage is the demon brat, when a soft thump alerts him to a presence on his windowsill. It's common courtesy for ninja to announce their arrival in such a way; for all that he's getting on in years, the last three assassins who managed to get this far all realized very quickly indeed why Sarutobi Hiruzen is still called the God of Shinobi.

He looks up, and blinks, startled by the sight of a wealth of unmistakable red hair and those ocean-blue eyes. Uzumaki Kurama stares back at him, mouth set into a neutral line, which is...out of character, from what Sarutobi has seen of the cheerful young man. He's still in his dusty and battered mission clothes, bristling with weapons, and there are leaves in his hair. It's the work of half a second to recall Namiashi Raidou's report, and Sarutobi frowns, wondering what pressing business Kurama could have so soon after returning.

And then a shock of sunshine-yellow hair peeks over Kurama's shoulder as arms tighten around his neck, and Naruto pulls himself into view. His eyes, a sky blue several shades brighter than Kurama's ocean blue, are confused and perhaps a little hurt, wide with uncertainty but also a bewildered sort of stubbornness. He doesn't say anything, and that's perhaps the biggest clue of all that something has happened.

Silently, Kurama slides off the sill and drops into a crouch, letting Naruto down. The boy wavers, clearly torn between staying with his newly found cousin and running up to the Hokage like he usually does. Finally, after a long moment, he settles on giving Sarutobi a fairly weak smile and twisting his fingers into the hem of Kurama's shirt.

Clearly, this is not going to be an easy conversation.

"Why don't you sit, Naruto, Kurama-kun?" Sarutobi suggests at length, indicating the chairs in front of his desk. There's another pause where he wonders if he'll be obeyed, and then Kurama tips his head in acknowledgement and steps forward, wary and graceful. Sarutobi has thought quite a bit about his options in regards to the two of them, and while he can safely say he's considered nearly every angle, his heart still gives a pang at the sight of shuttered eyes and a blank face. From everything he has been told, has observed himself, Kurama is given to smiling, to cheer. But he's deprived this lost young man of knowing his little cousin, did it willingly and with full realization of his actions, and even though Sarutobi can't quite bring himself to regret it he does hate to put Kurama through any more pain.