Eight

Reputation

Pakkun... didn't know what to think.

He was relieved their enemy had only been some sort of clone and they hadn't faced off against the real Hoshigaki Kisame, but he... well, first of all, he had to commend their teamwork; seamless even though he thought it was a bit weird that Yuuhi hadn't taken command. Second, the Inuzuka brat made that seal? Seriously? A complex four-pronged barrier that spazzed like water on hot oil but held up like an iron coffin? It shouldn't have been possible from a pup like him.

And weren't all of Yuuhi's kids still chuunin?

He hurried back over to the team as color bled from the corpse and the terrain ran dry, blue shifting to tan and the body shrinking in size. Navy hair diffused to muddy brown and the face of the dead man wasn't one that Pakkun recognized; a Suna-nin that aligned himself against his own village.

Wasn't that a thought?

As the jutsu shed off like a snake skin, the Samehada replicate crumpled into shapeless pieces. Sakura's torn mess of a hand was more visible now, dripping blood and caked with flecks of dirt. Her face was blank as she raised it to inspect the damage—unfeeling. Unconcerned.

Her left hand hung at her side and through the torn bandages, Pakkun saw cracked wood and the sheen of dark metal.

'Damn.'

Shino's brow creased as he observed his friend and Pakkun thought he was settling the shock that surely had to be thrumming in his veins, but the boy took one step forward and absolutely smacked the back of Sakura's head.

"What have I told you about placing yourself in avoidable situations? Hm? I would like to think that injury may be avoided with a modicum of common sense but your hand is falling out of itself. Your medical file is not getting any smaller, and I would like for it not to grow as fast as it is."

"Ow."

"'Ow,' she says," he grumbled, and Kiba fought off a snicker as he crouched to search the dead body. Shino held out one of his hands and Sakura placed her mauled appendage on it without question, his chakra lighting up a bright mint green as he began to repair the damage. "I give another lecture on her severe lack of self preservation and she responds with ow."

Kiba upends the kunai pouch from Mukade's leg. "She doesn't wear sunscreen, she doesn't listen ta' rules. It's a vicious cycle."

Akamaru woofed.

"See? He gets me."

"A miracle," Shino remarked dryly.

Kurenai peered over the healing with a worry that reminded Pakkun of his own mother before she helped Kiba bury the body—wait, bury the body?

"What are you doing?" he questioned as he padded over to the makeshift grave they'd begun to sow into the earth. "Mukade, or whoever he is, was, tried to kill you all and you're burying his body?"

He missed the look Sakura and Shino shared behind him and when Kiba said nothing as he upturned dirt, Kurenai smiled at the ninken summon. It was a smile that was more tired than it should be, but not one that tried to hide discomfort. It was open and fatigued and resigned and as she helped lower the corpse into dirt, her eyes shadowed with something he couldn't quite pick out.

(He didn't like it.)

"This has become a... ritual, of sorts," she explained softly. "To bury the bodies of anyone caught in the crossfire and all enemies that end up dying by our hands. It's more out of respect than anything else, really."

Pakkun tilted his head. He could understand that. The jobs shinobi did were never easy and it wasn't unusual to see different teams finding different ways to cope. Boss, he knew, liked to read the first few books of his favorite Icha Icha series after particularly rough missions. The same three books he read forwards and backwards in the darkness of his own apartment, eyes skimming over the familiar words after he washed his hands for hours at the kitchen sink.