an overdue gift.
🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳
my very dear @kankuroplease, words can’t express how grateful i am to have met you through this fandom and how fucking stunned i remain that you ever talked to me or that i was able to work with you on the donations for stories & art campaign. what a dream, truly.
i have written you a fic i was supposed to write for you months & months ago. it is technically a very belated companion piece to bugs, of all things by our beloved @wind-becomes-lightning though it’s nowhere near as cute. i don’t have any art to go with it, but thankfully you yourself answered my nosey anon ask with a beautiful piece that i incorporated into the end. so thanks for that (and sorry for being a sneak).
take care & have a perfect day, my dear. ily. <3
Title: The Jonin Emulsion
Summary: Katsura was on a mission. Well, not a mission, like a shinobi assignment. She actually just turned one of those down because she was busy working on her new cake recipe. But she was on a... uh... quest, yeah, a quest to help her sister Aori finally confess her feelings to Yamato. Now if only she could get anybody to help her, this whole thing would be a lot easier.
Word Count: 7,202
Warnings: none. fluff and fluff and katsura being a bit of a brat, but that’s all. sisterly feels all ‘round. kakashi is a troll, the end.
Katsura had to wonder if she had ever looked as absolutely ridiculous before confessing her feelings to Shino as her sister did at this very moment.
With shimmering eyes and bright red cheeks—an effect Aori had attempted to blame on a sunburn, despite the distinctly overcast weather Konoha had suffered the past week and a half—she looked more like she was meeting an idol than a co-worker. Like Shino when seeing a rare species of beetle for the first time or Yuuta when presented with the challenge of flirting with someone new.
And the cause of the brilliant flush over Aori’s face was none other than the man Katsura recognized vaguely as the now-infamous Team 7’s interim babysitter; a man who went by the name of Yamato and seemed even stranger than Kakashi Hatake, Team 7’s original leader and now the leader of the Village Hidden in the Leaves.
Katsura snorted. That her sister had ever thought Shino Aburame was an odd choice of suitor seemed far more ludicrous now. Yamato, as far as she was aware, didn’t even have a last name. And what was up with that weird chin-protector thing he wore? Not to mention the happuri, which was so outdated as to be laughable.
Did Aori have a Senju kink? Because between the brown hair and the face guard, Yamato looked like some bizarre combination of the First and Second Hokages.
As she finally turned away toward her original purpose, sorting through a crate full of oranges to find only those which were perfectly ripe, Katsura tried to push thoughts of Aori and Yamato to the back of her mind. She had other things to do than worry over her sister’s non-existent love life. After all, she was on a mission.
Not a mission, like a shinobi assignment—she was taking fewer and fewer of those now that the War was over, and she wondered if perhaps she might be able to retire early, to pursue other interests dearer to her heart. Rather, she was on a mission to perfect a new recipe. Thus far, the orange chiffon cake had eluded her; either too dense or not flavorful enough. Today, though, she was going to finally craft the perfect version, a quest which had brought her out into the market to buy citrus fruits immediately after their delivery, thereby ensuring their freshness. Aori had come with her, having just finished her morning training, though now Katsura wondered if there had been ulterior movies involved in her sister’s offer of accompaniment.
Of course, trying to ignore her sister’s romantic plight was only possible for a very short time—in fact, it was really only feasible in the brief quarter hour between Aori bidding farewell to Yamato when Katsura shouted that she was done shopping and the moment they returned home. Because by the twelfth time Aori had heaved a long-suffering sigh, there was no longer any way for Katsura to ignore her sister’s idiocy and it became clear an intervention was required.
Katsura Morita rarely had cause to interfere in her sister’s life. Aori, for the most part, was more than capable of taking care of herself—and Katsura, when you came right down to it, for whom she’d been a surrogate mother since a young age. Not to mention her genin squad, the true pride and joy of Aori’s life.
But this was painful. As bad as the sting of a Warrior Wasp. (Or at least, it seemed that way, Katsura wasn’t about to volunteer to subject herself to that particular insect’s whims any time soon, no matter how often Shino espoused the creature’s beauty and instinct.)
“Stop sulking,” she said, adding orange zest and freshly squeezed juice to her batter and whisking deftly. Katsura wielded her kitchen implements with the same finesse as her sword, a thing which made the process of mixing much more reasonable without a machine to work on her behalf.
Aori hardly acknowledged her, though, waving a dismissive hand as she continued to frown down at her own blades, laid out before her to be sharpened, though she had yet to pick up her whetstone.
Katsura rolled her eyes. Since when was she meant to be the more mature of the two?
“You’re being ridiculous,” she added, turning her attention to the flour and sifting in a third before beginning to mix again, “you should just ask him out.”
Aori huffed, still pouting in Katsura’s estimation, and picked up the stone she’d left untouched until this very moment to begin sharpening her swords. The tactic was transparent, but Katsura figured it was at least better that she’d finally stopped wallowing over Yamato enough to be productive. The melodic shnk, shnk, shnk! made by the whetstone as it glided over steel steered Katsura through the rest of her preparations. Slowly, she added the remaining flour, folded an egg white mixture into it, and then poured the batter into her prepared chiffon pan, tapping it carefully to remove the air bubbles before she set it in the oven to bake.
By the time Katsura removed her oven mitts, Aori was sheathing both her weapons, and still pointedly—and infuriatingly—ignoring Katsura’s suggestion.
“Why are you being so stubborn?”
Aori bit her lower lip in frustration and for the first time Katsura wondered if perhaps she was pushing her sister a bit too hard. Still, she couldn’t pretend Aori wasn’t being foolish. She was beautiful, strong, and one of the kindest people Katsura knew, even if they hadn’t been sisters. That she was so terrified of asking for something she wanted—so afraid to put herself out there—felt wrong.
Her sister deserved so much—deserved the whole world and more, as far as Katsura was concerned.
And as Aori slipped away to her room, still without saying a word on the subject of Yamato at all, Katsura realized she would have to take matters into her own hands if she was going to ensure her big sister the happy ending she deserved.
She consulted Shino first, of course. But her boyfriend was reticent at best to get involved in even the affairs of his closest friends, let alone a shinobi who technically outranked him.
“Your sister knows better than you what she wants,” he said, eyes focused on his kikaichu, “Perhaps you should defer to her judgment.”
Katsura’s cheeks puffed out indignantly and when she released a harsh whoosh of breath, it blew her hair back from her face like a gust of wind.
Shino chuckled, the deep timber of his voice reverberating in his chest in that way that made the hairs at the back of her neck stand to attention. Katsura couldn’t help but soften the wrinkle between her eyebrows as she watched Shino pick up a trail of his insects with his finger and lead them over to the table where he was examining them in sets of twelve or fifteen, checking for any who might be sick or overexerted after his recent lengthy mission.
She stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his spine and nuzzling close. As a result, her voice was rather muffled when she grumbled, “She’s too chicken to do it herself. She needs me.”
Shino only chuckled again. “If you say so.”
Katsura did say so, and she knew she was right, even if her boyfriend didn’t. Even if Aori didn’t.
This was going to be like creating a new cake recipe. It didn’t matter how many pans came out burned or how many fire alarms she set off, Katsura was going to figure out the perfect combination of timing and ingredients to achieve the ideal result.
In this case, rather than an orange chiffon cake—which was marvelous, by the way—she was going to get her sister a date.
Though, that was easier said than done, if she were honest. Despite now being in a happy relationship with Shino, it had taken quite the push to get there—a push from none other than the woman Katsura was now determined to help in return. The irony did not escape her, and Katsura wondered briefly if perhaps romantic ineptitude were some latent genetic trait of the Morita Clan as a whole. She refused to dwell on such a thought for too long, though, in the interest of devising an appropriate plan instead.
Next on her list was a visit to Iruka Umino, Aori’s closest friend since childhood and the man Katsura thought Aori was in love with for several long years. Aori had sharply intervened when Katsura began questioning Iruka as to when he was going to ask her sister to be his wife and have his babies. She was only seven, of course, at the time, but that did nothing to tamp down the horrid embarrassment of both Iruka and Aori, who were probably still blushing over a child’s innocent inquiries.
Katsura smirked at the memory of their tomato-red faces and sputtering as she cut a generous slice of cake to bring with her. Iruka could be trusted, and though he would probably help no matter what if she asked, there was no reason not to ensure her success with a little help from her kitchen. She always knew exactly how to get on Iruka’s good side before asking him for a favor.
Iruka was easy enough to find, as usual. While many things had changed since the end of the Fourth Shinobi War, the long-time teacher was still as steadfastly devoted to his students as ever. And though his position was rumored to be changing slightly—gossip flew that he would be promoted to headmaster soon, a thing which interested Katsura especially because it would make room for Shino to join the Academy as an instructor—he was still diligently grading tests by the time she found him hunched over his desk late in the evening.
Katsura admired him for a few moments before she knocked on the open door, watching as Iruka read each paper carefully, so focused on the task before him that he muttered to himself and did not recognize her presence. He jumped when she finally rapped her knuckles on the doorframe, but his fright soon turned to a warm smile when his eyes met hers.
“Ah, Katsura! What brings you here?”
She smiled and held out a piece of orange chiffon cake, carefully wrapped in beeswax paper. “I tried a new recipe and thought you might like to be one of my taste testers.”
Iruka lit up as he always did when offered one of her new creations. He sniffed the air as if trying to track something through the woods, which seemed extremely strange, but Katsura tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible.
“It smells delicious,” he said once he’d stopped smelling the air like a dog, eyes sparkling.
Katsura plopped down in the seat across from his desk and set the slice of cake before him. She leaned back in her chair, frowning when all but her toes could no longer reach the ground, and watched as he unwrapped the offering. Iruka licked his lips and broke off a generous piece with his fingers before popping it into his mouth. He groaned, eyelids fluttering closed.
Katsura giggled. She did love that he was so complimentary of her culinary experimentations. It was always a nice boost to see someone enjoy her sweets so much.
“I assume that means you think it’s good?”
“Divine,” he said, “your best yet.”
She rolled her eyes. “You always say that.”
Iruka just gave her a warm smile in return. “Because it’s always true.”
Katsura did not blush at the compliment. Definitely did not. Perhaps she was too quick to judge Aori for claiming a sunburn, though, now that she thought about it. There had been a little peek of light through the clouds a few days ago when they went for a walk by the Naka River…
Iruka took another bite, licking his thumb and forefinger as he leaned back in his chair.
“Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”
Katsura puffed her cheeks up and huffed a breath. Iruka may not have been a blood relative, but that didn’t stop him from reading her like an annoying big brother.
She tapped her toes against the tile floor, slumping in her seat. “How do you always know?” she asked.
Iruka’s smile broadened, crinkling the corners of his eyes pleasantly. “I’m a teacher. It’s part of my job.”
Katsura rolled her eyes. “I’m not one of your students,” she grumbled.
“Maybe not, but you still act like one upon occasion.” The chastisement came with an infuriating smirk and Katsura pouted. She knew she did because Iruka laughed. It wasn’t her fault that sometimes her lower lip would jut out of its own accord when she was annoyed! Her fingers curled into fists, irritated at her lack of control over her expressions when in such familiar company.
Iruka, seeming to take pity on her, finally shook his head and tamed his smile into something more friendly than teasing.
“So what is it, Katsura? You know I’ll help if I can. You didn’t even have to bribe me.”
That was true, at least. Having Iruka as sort of a surrogate big brother had more benefits than not. Though he teased her heartily, she also knew he was someone who could be relied upon in almost any situation. He’d part the clouds for her on a rainy day if he could just locate the proper jutsu.
“It’s Aori,” she said, and Iruka’s posture immediately straightened.
“Is she all right? I know she just returned from a mission with her squad, but I thought—”
Katsura waved her hands to stop him from continuing down that particular thread. “No, no, Aori is fine, she’s fine. It’s not that.”
Iruka visibly relaxed and Katsura made a mental note not to start a request with such an open-ended statement in the future.
“Do you know that Yamato guy?” she tried this time. She knew he did—Iruka often filled in at the mission desk, so he knew everyone—she just didn’t know to what extent, and that would be an important bit of information in order for her to formulate an appropriate plan.
Something flashed in Iruka’s eyes that caught Katsura’s attention, but she ignored it for the time being.
“A little,” he said evasively, “why?”
Katsura chewed the inside of her cheek to rein in her own curiosity. Iruka was being cagey for some reason, and she desperately wanted to know what it was, but she reminded herself that was not her main objective tonight.
“Aori is…” how to put this delicately, she wondered, “Aori has a… a crush, I guess. On him. Yamato.”
Smooth, she thought, doing her best not to roll her eyes at herself this time.
Iruka blinked several times as if waiting for her to elaborate and then he leaned forward on his desk with his hands clasped before him, giving Katsura the distinct impression it was the same exact posture he used when trying to whittle information from a troublesome student.
“And? What does that have to do with me? Or you, for that matter?”
Katsura’s legs jiggled again, the balls of her feet bouncing madly against the tile.
“You know I love my sister, but she’s also a little, well…”
“Dense,” Iruka provided helpfully and Katsura couldn’t help but laugh in response.
“Yes, that. I watched her today in the market talking to him and it’s so painfully obvious to everyone else how much she likes him, but she won’t say anything.”
Iruka gave her an understanding smile, unclasping his hands so he could steal another bite of his bribery cake.
“While that very well may be,” he said around a mouthful of citrusy chiffon, “I’m not sure it’s our place to interfere. Aori will come to that on her own time. She has to.”
“But what if she never does, Iruka? She’s been through so much and she just…” Katsura took a deep breath in an attempt to regain control over her emotions. When it came to Aori (and Shino and beetles and baking), she tended to get a little overly sensitive if she wasn’t careful. “She deserves to be happy. And I don’t want her shyness to hold her back from that.”
The least Katsura could do, she thought, was to make sure the sister who had essentially raised her, who now worked so hard to make sure her genin were safe, and who had done so much during the War to protect those who were vulnerable, got the happy ending she deserved.
The happy ending she wanted, but didn’t feel ready to voice.
The only sound in the room for a few long moments was that of Iruka chewing over his cake and his thoughts. Eventually, the beeswax paper was empty and Katsura stood.
“Just think about it, okay? You know she’d do the same for us.” She looked down at her feet bashfully, thinking of that day at the store all those months ago when her sister had prodded her to reveal her true feelings to Shino, “She already did it for me.”
The scar across Iruka’s nose wrinkled slightly in a thoughtful expression Katsura was all-too familiar with. It meant he was considering her words, though, and that lit a wick of hope. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but then his eyes darted to the doorway, and he frowned instead. “You’re late.”
The tiny candle flame snuffed out.
Katsura whirled to see who Iruka was talking to, eyes going wide when she noticed the telltale face covering of none other than Kakashi Hatake, Sixth Hokage of the Hidden Leaf, nose buried in a book, though his keen eyes were fixed exactly on hers when she turned.
He snapped the book closed and stowed it in his vest. “Yes, yes. My apologies, I had a late meeting.”
Katsura looked back toward Iruka, who had gathered his belongings into a satchel and stood from his seat. He handed her the crisply folded beeswax paper as he brushed past on his way out.
“I’ll think about it, Katsura, but no promises. You know I don’t like meddling.”
Katsura held the wrapper tightly in her hands, bit her tongue as it crumpled in her grasp, and nodded. Sometimes she missed the Iruka who was always pulling pranks and wreaking havoc. That Iruka would have already locked Aori in a closet with Yamato and transformed the key into a beetle just to amuse her.
Katsura jolted out of her sour thoughts when the Rokudaime stuck his head into the room and sniffed the air in much the same way Iruka had done when she first arrived with her offering.
“Oranges?” he asked, following after Iruka with his hands in his pockets.
“Yes,” came the answer, “Katsura brought me dessert.”
Their voices faded, but Katsura was sure she heard Kakashi respond with, “Cake seems like an awful waste of good fruit.”
She stood there for longer than she would like to admit processing what she’d just seen.
When had Iruka started dating the Hokage? And why did they both sniff the air like dogs?
“I can’t believe I didn’t know!” Katsura lamented later that evening, flopping dramatically onto a cushion as Aori finished preparing their dinner.
Aori seemed in better spirits now, at least, than when Katsura had last seen her. She imagined this had at least something to do with the new bruise on Aori’s shin and the bandage wrapped around her left ring finger.
Her sister was always happiest during and after a difficult training session. Aori had been spending plenty of time with Gai Maito lately, as he worked to keep in shape with his right leg now out of commission. Katsura grimaced as she imagined what sort of shenanigans the two of them might have gotten into between Aori’s frustration over Yamato and Gai’s desire to prove himself as Youthful as ever even after his injury.
“Iruka’s been head over heels for Kakashi for years,” Aori said, setting their food on the table. “I never thought he’d take my advice and finally ask him out.”
Katsura’s eyes flew wide for a moment, and then she squinted accusatorily across the table at her sister, who looked as though she’d been caught in a spotlight and forced to recite all the Shinobi Rules backward in a foreign dialect.
The only time Katsura had seen her blush as hard was when speaking with Yamato.
“What’s that look for?” Aori asked nervously, picking up her chopsticks to begin eating.
“Oh, you know exactly what that look is for!” Katsura said, slamming one palm flat on the table. “How is it you’re so busy matchmaking for other people, yet you can’t seem to do the same for yourself?!”
Katsura wasn’t sure what irritated her more, that Aori was so obviously in tune with the feelings of those around her but incapable of acting on her own, or that Iruka had brushed her suggestion of intervention aside when her sister was the reason they were both currently in relationships with the men of their dreams.
Aori, ever the patient big sister, set down her food and looked at Katsura plaintively. “Listen, Katsura, I… I think it’s sweet you’re so invested in this, but I’d really prefer you drop it.”
Katsura huffed, worried she might actually be etching a permanent line between her eyebrows after all the frowning she’d done in the past twelve hours.
“How can you say that? You did the same thing to me, and it turned out so well! I can’t just sit here and let you be alone because you’re too scared to be honest with yourself.”
Aori’s optimistic face fell, and she glanced down at her food, suddenly finding the sticky rice and grilled fish far more interesting than they could possibly be.
“It’s different,” she said quietly. “Yamato is…”
“He likes you, Aori.”
Aori shook her head. “He’s busy. We both are. And not like you’re busy, you know, he has… he’s Kakashi’s most trusted shinobi. And I have my team to worry about. They’ll be training for the chunin exams soon and I want to be there for all of them, so—”
Katsura slapped both palms down this time, sloshing broth from her miso soup onto the table as she leaned up on her knees, towering over her sister for the first and only time in her life.
“You’re just making excuses,” she hissed. “You’re better than that.”
Katsura decided she wasn’t all that hungry after all and she stood, ignoring the placating voice of her sister as she pounded down the hall toward her bedroom and slammed the door closed behind her.
Fine.
If Shino thought she was being silly and Iruka wouldn’t help her and Aori wouldn’t listen to her, then Katsura would just have to take care of things herself.
Which meant she was going to have to figure out Yamato’s last name, if he had one. Or literally anything else about him other than that he looked sort of funny and her sister was apparently in love with him.
She’d start in the morning. For now, she turned to her terrarium and inspected her beetles as they munched on the jellies she laid out for them in the morning. They were growing quickly, and soon they’d be ready to be released. A bittersweet thing every time, though watching them grow was still worth it, even if she cried whenever she turned one out into the wild.
As she watched them, Katsura let her mind roam, slowly coalescing a plan to get Aori and Yamato together and force them to speak—force Aori to admit her feelings if Yamato wouldn’t do it first. If she could emulsify a stable lemon curd without it souring, then she could certainly get two idiots who clearly had a thing for each other out on a date.
At least, she hoped she could. Because otherwise she’d probably come out on the other side of this looking like a complete idiot.
Katsura was not typically fond of being so short, but she could admit it had its benefits. Though she was never considered a particular specialist in espionage, when you were under five feet tall, people tended not to notice you so much, which made sneaking around infinitely easier.
She’d been doing as much all day, flitting through the corridors of the Hokage Tower—sometimes in rooms she almost definitely was not supposed to be in—looking for any sign of brown hair or a happuri to no avail.
As she turned yet another corner only to find yet another empty room with absolutely no Yamato in sight, Katsura stomped a foot and clenched her fists at her sides, throwing her head back to growl through grit teeth.
“Something the matter?”
Katsura Morita, deadly shinobi and heretofore unflappable lover all things creepy crawly, shrieked.
She turned toward the sound of the voice—a voice which had appeared out of nowhere—hands thrown up in a defensive stance.
But rather than finding an assailant, Katsura’s eyes met the level stare of none other than the Sixth Hokage for the second time in as many days.
Her heart beat furiously in her chest, adrenaline lancing her veins even as she dropped her fists limply to her sides.
“Where did you come from?” she asked, eyes darting around in search of any hidden doors she might have missed. She didn’t even sense him coming, no flare of chakra, no whiff of cologne or shampoo.
It was terrifying, honestly, that even as a shinobi she had no warning of his proximity. It suddenly made the picture painted of him as a deadly assassin and elite shinobi all the more real, despite his usually aloof demeanor.
“Well,” Kakashi said, leaning nonchalantly against a wall, “I actually work here. In the building. Which is more than I can say for you.”
Katsura felt her face flush a deep pink and she bit her cheek to keep from saying something snappy in response. Annoying or not, he was still her Hokage.
“So the real question is,” he said, “what are you doing here?”
Katsura considered lying. She considered it for all of half a second before she realized she’d be up to her pink-tinged ears in trouble long before she finished spinning untruths to Kakashi Hatake. He watched her with two eyes as dark as any beetle she’d raised and Katsura suppressed a shiver.
“I’m looking for someone,” she said finally, hoping that might suffice. But when Kakashi’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and he titled his head—reminding her again so very much of a dog that she wondered whether this was some sort of elaborate and forbidden transformation jutsu—she sighed, knowing she’d been caught. “I’m looking for Yamato,” she muttered, staring down at her feet as she scuffed one shoe against the floor.
This seemed, however, to garner a great deal more interest than she was anticipating.
“Tenzō?” Kakashi asked and then shook his head when Katsura shot him an inquisitive look. “It’s a code name,” was the only explanation offered before he added, “Why are you looking for him?”
Katsura weighed her options. Again, she could lie. She could say she was hoping to train with him or Naruto wanted to see him or maybe she could pretend that he asked her a question at the market and now she had the answer…. Thankfully, before she could say any of those idiotic things, the cover of a book caught her attention from within the Hokage’s vest.
Bright orange with a red symbol on it denoting it was definitely not for children.
And something clicked. Because she remembered that book and its companions from Aori’s bedroom, though she’d never admit as much to her sister. And while the story hadn’t really interested her, she knew that, in addition to being smutty, they were also incredibly, absolutely, overwhelmingly cheesy in their more romantic aspects. And Kakashi was apparently a big fan, if he still carried a copy with him even while officially on duty as the Sixth Hokage.
Which meant Katsura might have finally found the ally she’d been looking for.
“I’m trying to set him up with my sister.”
The glint in the Hokage’s eyes should have made her want to run, but instead Katsura’s mouth curled into a triumphant smile. Finally, someone who appreciated what she was trying to do.
It turned out having the highest-ranking shinobi in the village on your side made matchmaking a lot easier. Katsura was astounded at how well Kakashi was able to feign seriousness when he gave Yamato—err, Tenzō? She decided not to dwell on it—the order that he was to report to training field twelve for a special assignment.
That Yamato seemed so eager to obey the command was another thing entirely, though Katsura tried not to dwell on that too deeply, either. What sort of person got that jazzed about training?
Wait…
She did know one other person.
“Shoot,” she cursed under her breath after Yamato had been dismissed. Still, Kakashi with his inhuman—and again, very canine-like—hearing caught her whisper, even from across his office.
“What?” he asked. “You’re sure Aori will be there, right?”
“Yes,” Katsura said, “but I don’t know whether she’s meeting Gai there, so I should go intercept him just in case.”
She frowned. She’d wanted to watch the interaction, see the culmination of her scheming and hard work.
There was no option, though, someone had to keep Gai away from the training field if Aori was going to have any chance at all to confess.
Much to Katsura’s surprise, though, Kakashi stood from his desk chair and stretched. They both grimaced as several loud snaps and pops rang out through the room as he did so.
“Don’t worry about Gai,” he assured her, “I’ll handle him.”
“How?”
Kakashi chuckled, striding toward the window before opening it and crouching on the sill. He looked back at her, eyes creasing in what she assumed was a smile, despite not being able to see his mouth. “We’re well behind our usual competition schedule. I’m sure I can come up with something to keep him distracted.”
Then he disappeared, leaving several stunned ANBU to meld out of the shadows and begin trailing after their Hokage, though one stayed behind, she assumed, to keep an eye on Katsura and make sure she didn’t go snooping through any classified mission scrolls.
“Why is Aori friends with such weirdos?” she wondered aloud.
She swore the ANBU agent still in the room chuckled as she left, but by the time she turned around, they were already hidden from sight.
Aori was at the training grounds, battering a wooden sparring dummy with a pair of bamboo swords, by the time Katsura hid behind a bush at the outskirts of the field, suppressing her chakra so as to remain undetectable.
Her sister was flushed from the exertion of her training, midnight blue hair sticking a little to her sweat-dotted forehead and temples. Katsura grimaced. Maybe she should have made sure Aori wouldn’t be so sweaty when she confessed her feelings to Yamato.
It was too late, though, she soon realized, when the man appeared at the opposite side of the field, looking around as if trying to figure out why Kakashi had sent him. Mercifully, he seemed to have left his happuri elsewhere for the time being.
He approached from behind Aori, eyes falling upon her back almost as soon as he entered the clearing. Aori, however, though she obviously knew someone had encroached on her morning, apparently was not sure who it was because suddenly she launched one of the bamboo training swords across the field at the intruder.
Yamato was clearly surprised, already wide eyes going even wider as he ducked out of the trajectory of the weapon, catching it in one hand when he detected it wouldn’t slice him open.
The furious pull between Aori’s brows relented when she realized who it was she’d just attacked.
“Yamato! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—” she raced across the field, no doubt to continue apologizing as she retrieved her training weapon. Her intentions didn’t matter, though, because by the time she’d almost reached Yamato, who smiled and assured her he was uninjured, a pack of dogs came bounding out of the woods, barking and howling.
Both jonin turned toward the pack as it advanced, Yamato sputtering something that sounded like, “Pakkun, what are you doing?”
He hardly got the question out, though, before the dogs were circling the two ninja, tightening the loop with every pass. Aori and Yamato both appeared confused and overwhelmed as the ninken kicked up a swirl of dust in their wake, clouding their vision and causing them to sputter and cough. Aori dropped her sword and started ineffectually swatting the dogs away.
One of them, the largest by a wide margin, seemed to take offense at this, and headbutted Aori’s backside with a grunt.
Katsura grinned as Aori fell forward, colliding harshly with Yamato’s chest, forehead bumping his chin.
Thank goodness he wears that chin protector.
Yamato appeared incredibly flustered by the sudden contact, though he managed to steady Aori by her elbows just long enough for the dogs to break formation. One of them, a medium-sized creature wearing sunglasses of all things, nudged the back of Yamato’s knees.
He had only a moment to register what was happening before he pitched backward, hands still clasped on Aori’s elbows, forcing him to drag her down in his wake.
They both landed in the dirt with a thud, a plume of dust puffing up around them.
The pack of dogs, apparently satisfied with their shenanigans, bounded off again. Just as they disappeared between the trees, Katsura swore the smallest amongst them turned to shoot her a wink.
Though Kakashi had not provided her any details of his precise plan, the dogs made perfect sense given his own canine-like proclivities, and Katsura could not argue with their efficacy.
Because once the dust cleared, she had a perfect view of a very flustered Aori trying to scramble to her feet and kneeing Yamato in the thigh. Yamato, for his part, seemed incapable of moving, holding his hands as if in surrender as his face turned the same bright red as Aori’s.
By the time they both managed to get themselves upright, Katsura was sure they’d invented an entirely new shade of crimson between them, and she smothered a chuckle with her hand.
Aori bit her lip, dusting dirt from her slacks as she stared at her feet. Yamato, looking equally as unsure of what to say now that they’d been attacked by the Hokage’s ninken, cleared his throat several times, but didn’t open his mouth.
Katsura waited behind the bush, fiddling anxiously with the hem of her skirt.
“Come on, Aori…”
Katsura thought for sure her sister was about to miss her opportunity, and she was half a breath away from leaping out into the middle of the field to scream at Yamato to take her sister out on a date when he finally spoke.
“Sorry about that,” he said, “I’m not sure what Kakashi-senpai sent me here for, but it seems like maybe it was a prank of some kind.”
Aori nodded vaguely in agreement. “I wonder where he is, though?” She turned to look over her shoulder and Katsura ducked down to avoid being seen. “Shouldn’t he be here to witness the chaos if that was his plan?”
Yamato chuckled. “You’d think. But he’s a strange man, sometimes. Maybe he got caught up at work or…” he coughed, “reading.”
Aori chuckled at the addendum.
Katsura thought she heard the rumble of a far-off explosion and winced, wondering what sort of competition, exactly, Kakashi had devised to keep Gai entertained.
The two lovebirds in the clearing seemed not to notice the apparent chaos ensuing halfway across the village and, “Mm,” was all Aori said in response.
They stood there a few moments longer, though Katsura took heart that neither attempted to step further away from the other. As if the proximity, though embarrassing at first, no longer made them uncomfortable.
Progress, at least, even if neither of them had confessed their love for the other, yet.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted your training,” Yamato said, and Katsura growled at his formality. Why couldn’t he just loosen up? Even from this distance, she could discern the fondness in his gaze as he looked at Aori, could see the gentle upturn of his mouth as he examined her pretty features.
“Oh, no!” Aori assured him, “You didn’t interrupt anything.”
Silence again. Infuriating, impenetrable silence.
“Come on,” Katsura growled, fists curling into the branches of the bush she remained crouched behind. It took every ounce of self-restraint she possessed not to launch herself across the field and press the two idiot jonin’s heads together like the dolls she used to make kiss when she was a toddler.
What were they waiting for?
Katsura closed her eyes, teeth grinding together with all the force of a bull ant’s mandibles. For one brief moment, she wished she had some Yamanaka lineage; that she could project her thoughts into Aori’s mind and force her sister to give voice to the feelings she so clearly held for Yamato.
Maybe if this failed she’d reach out to Yuuta to see if he or his cousin Ino could help. Clearly, roping in the Rokudaime was not quite enough to get these two blockheads together.
“Well, I guess I should get going,” Yamato said, “so you can get back to work.”
You didn’t have to be a Hyuga to see how desperately Yamato didn’t want to leave, nor the way Aori’s fists clenched at her sides in frustration.
Yamato turned to leave and Katsura was just about to leap out from behind her bush and confess on her sister’s behalf when Aori squeezed her eyes closed and shouted, “Wait!”
Yamato nearly tripped, obviously surprised by the sheer volume of Aori’s voice. But when he turned back to look at her, Katsura thought she saw something hopeful in his expression.
“S-sorry!” Aori said, cheeks turning that same shade of sunburn from the market all over again. She crossed her arms over her chest and Katsura groaned quietly.
That tended to be the most defensive stance Aori took—a sign she was uncomfortable, and usually that she was about to clam up. Katsura took a deep breath and stood, popping up from her hiding space so she could stride across the field and intervene on her sister’s behalf. Sure, Aori would be upset with her for a while, but in the end, she’d thank her—
“Hey, Yamato?”
Katsura stopped in her tracks, suddenly feeling horribly exposed (and incredibly grateful both jonin appeared too invested in their interaction to have noticed her, yet). She crouched, cursing under her breath as she crawled behind a charred tree stump apparently left behind from a particularly violent training session, peering around it to continue watching.
During her brief moment of panic, Katsura discerned that Yamato must have given some sort of response, because by the time she tuned back into the conversation, Aori was speaking again.
“If you’re not busy tonight, would you… like to get something to eat? Maybe?” She paused and then tacked on a little oddly, “With me?” as if her question required clarification.
Katsura’s eyes widened, mouth stretching into a smile. Aori was as brightly colored as the red velvet cookies Katsura had made for her last birthday, but she’d done it! She’d finally asked Yamato out!
And while Katsura had no doubt that Yamato returned Aori’s feelings and would be giddy to join her on a date, he took just a little too long to answer, just long enough for Katsura to worry a moment and Aori to pull her lower lip between her teeth anxiously.
Katsura was about to really march across the field and give Yamato a piece of her mind for breaking her sister’s heart when he finally answered.
“Of course,” he said, the smile as clear in his voice as on his face. “I’d love to.”
Somehow, Aori’s cheeks managed to turn an even deeper shade of crimson. “R-Really?!” she asked, clearly a little taken aback by his response.
Katsura wanted to smack her.
“Really, Aori,” Yamato said, smile growing wider.
“G-great! Uh…”
Aori clearly had not planned for a positive response. Katsura couldn’t wait to tease her about it.
“How about we meet by the Hokage Tower around seven?” Yamato suggested, mercifully. “We can decide where to go from there.”
Aori smiled, face so red that if it were an actual sunburn, a trip to the Konoha Hospital would likely be in order.
“That sounds perfect,” she agreed.
Yamato bowed at the waist and Katsura rolled her eyes at his outdated decorum. “I’ll see you then.”
Katsura did her best to rein in her joy, biting her lower lip to keep it from curling into an impossibly wide smile. She squealed quietly, stamping her feet in a happy little jig as Yamato departed.
“You can come out, now!”
Katsura stopped, peeking out from behind the charred tree stump to find Aori glaring in her direction, brows pulled together and arms still crossed.
Katsura sighed at having been caught, but failed to stop smiling as she sauntered toward her sister, letting her hips sway freely as she made her way over.
"Hey, sis,” she said, no longer attempting to hold back her smirk, “you got any plans this evening?”
Aori tried to roll her eyes, but the flush over her face diminished the impact of the gesture.
“Why do you insist on meddling in other people’s business?”
“Not other people’s,” Katsura insisted, “just yours.”
She hooked her arm through Aori’s, beginning to drag her sister away from the training field. They had plenty of time before Aori’s date, but Katsura knew her sister well enough to know there were at least two or three anxiety attacks coming, so it would be best to start preparing her for it now.
“Besides,” Katsura said slyly, noticing that Aori didn’t fight her as she started to drag her toward home once they each picked up one of the training swords, “I had help.”
“Oh?” Aori asked, looking curiously down at her sister. “Who? Iruka?”
Katsura’s nose wrinkled as she laughed. “Nope! Iruka is apparently no fun whatsoever. His boyfriend, on the other hand…”
She felt Aori bristle beside her. “You roped the Hokage into your matchmaking scheme?! Katsura!”
Aori chided her the entire way home, but Katsura didn’t care; she would have taken whatever punishment Aori could dole out—any punishment the Rokudaime himself might assign her.
It was all worth it to make sure Aori got her own little piece of happiness.
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