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Shadows

Chapter Twelve

Shadows

December 28, 2008

Sai moved quietly down the hall, wondering what business with the Rokudaime had prompted the urgent summons he'd received. The Anbu that had let himself into his Sai's art studio had taken him back to his days of Root. The visit had given him a moment of disquiet.

"Report immediately to the Hokage."

The message quick and to the point before the masked individual disappeared. He could only guess it had something to do with either the cauterized, bloodless bodies piling up or the suspicious movements of several prominent political figures and the sudden emphasizing of protocol and regulations. Both of which were of significant concern to the artistic jonin.

The former for obvious reasons, the latter because it reeked of Danzo like tactics. Putting speculation aside, he focused instead on something else that often occupied his thoughts.

The dark haired shinobi watched the people he passed, taking note of expressions, listening closely to the composition of laughter, and analyzing the natural flow of emotion they exhibited so easily that he himself still struggled with.

It was confusing at times.

Trying to match the right emotion to the right situation at the right time to the right degree that was appropriate and necessary.

He found it taxing and puzzling most days.

It felt like there was a thin sheet of glass between him and human emotion sometimes. He could see what he was supposed to feel but whenever he reached out to grasp that emotion, the barrier of glass barred him. The people he watched, the books he read, made it all seem so simple and yet he got it wrong almost every time, resulting in stunned stares, and hushed whispers between confused or creeped out socializers.

While a lot of his blunders were accidental, some were not so innocent.

He felt a coil of amusement.

Learning about what made the human heart tick had its advantages, and Sai enjoyed utilizing the things he learned to tease the people he interacted with. Naruto was his favorite target most days.

The blonde genin was so easily roused, quickly embarrassed with a few choice words and always offered the most hilarious reactions.

He replayed several memories of the dramatic Uzumaki, lips curled in what he hoped would be seen as the smile of amusement it was intended to be, until he reached the Hokage door.

The pale painter paused outside the door, listening to the hushed voices within.

The words were muffled, and he couldn't make out who else was in the room. Unwilling to barge in and interrupt he instead knocked.

"Enter." came his response.

Sai opened the door and stepped inside the well lit office, shutting the door behind him.

Two men occupied the room.

Kakashi Hatake, Sixth Hokage of the Hidden Leaf sat behind his large, paper scattered oak desk. The former Sharingan legend wore the distinguished robes of the Hokage and his trademark mask. His dark eyes, normal twinkling with lazy merriment were instead sharp and deadly serious. The silver haired male leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk and folded his hands beneath his chin.

Shikamaru stood next to the plush chair the Hokage occupied, his expression mirroring his superiors.

Sensing the heavy tension in the room, Sai straightened his spine.