Dedication: To the pain in the ass I would rather die than live without, for the irritant who's been my anchor more times than I can count, for the twin who's shared my life from day one and made the world so much brighter and more beautiful—this is for you. Here's to another year shared, and to all the laughter and happiness and hope you always carry. If it's us against the world for the rest of eternity, I have to say I like those odds.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Smut, pining, dick jokes, Sai's everything, general shinobi darkness, bromance, past canon character death, headcanons, post-699 AU, bits of anti-SasuSaku sentiment, anti-ending in general, etc.

Word Count: ~5700

Pairings: Shikamaru/Sai, Sakura/Ino, platonic Sai-Ino bromanticness

Summary: There was a point in Sai's life—very recently, in fact—when he would have done anything to belong to an actual clan. He's never had a wish come back to bite him in the ass quite this hard, though.

Disclaimer: Hah. I want some of whatever Kishimoto was smoking, but Naruto's not mine.

Notes: Ages and ages ago, the lovely and inspiring ShanaStoryteller gave me permission to use an idea from her fic An Invincible Summer, and between that and my twin's demand that I write him Sai-fic for his birthday, this happened. I meant it to be a one-shot. And then it promptly exploded in my face.

You're welcome to stop laughing any time now.

Drowning in the Wishing Well

Chapter 1

It feels a little like he's back in Root, in the middle of an assassination mission. Easy enough to disarm the traps on the second story window—familiarity lends predictability, and besides, Sai is very good at what he does. One last glance back the way he came, checking for any guards off their routines, but the darkness is still, unbroken. Sai smiles a little to himself, satisfied that he hasn't lost the skills that once made him Danzō's best even in a time of relative peace, and slides feet-first through the window to land lightly on the rug inside.

There isn't even a whisper of movement, no sound of things stirring. Sai pads noiselessly to the open door, and habit more than need has him checking for observers as he slips into the hall. The stairs are to his right, and the master bedroom to his left, but despite the reputation of the occupant Sai picks the former. A few steps proves his hunch correct—there's light spilling from the kitchen, cutting through the shadows to cast distorted shapes along the walls and floors.

Avoiding the creaking stair seven steps from the bottom, Sai heads for the light. A part of him thinks of feeling exasperated, but it's a mild thing, vague and a little uncertain; he probably doesn't have the privilege, given how things stand. That's fine, though—Sai isn't certain he could care, even if he allowed himself to. Better not to even try.

He avoids the floorboard that tends to groan when stepped on, though there's no real need. Just satisfaction, because Sai has been a ghost and a shadow for the majority of his life, and a few brief years outside the darkness have changed him, but not that much.

(Not enough, something in him says constantly. Sai has gotten rather good at ignoring it.)

The kitchen is warm and bright, dinner dishes still stacked in the sink even though it's already after midnight. The smell of jasmine tea is in the air, still fresh, but the figure sitting hunched over the main table, back to the doorway, doesn't seem to have moved in a while. Sai doesn't hesitate, though he does mind his steps more carefully now. The bowed head doesn't lift, and the shadows don't stir, but he's still cautious as he pulls his sheathed tantō over his head. One step, another, and he's almost close enough—

Shikamaru flinches hard when the bamboo sheath taps lightly against his throat, leaping to his feet as the chair skids sideways and whipping around with a kunai already in hand. Sai beams at him, more of a taunt than anything, and waves cheerfully.

"You really should be more careful, lazybones. Someone might sneak into your home and take advantage of you."

For a long moment, Shikamaru stays where he is, eyes narrowed. Then, with a beleaguered sigh, he tosses the kunai onto the table and drops back into his chair, running a hand over his tightly bound hair. "Asshole," he accuses. "The only one likely to take advantage of me is you."

With a smirk, Sai sets his sword down on the pile of papers Shikamaru was working on, then grabs the back of Shikamaru's chair and drops neatly into his lap. He drapes his forearms around Shikamaru's shoulders, leaning forward as if he's about to go in for a kiss, and doesn't let his expression change even when hands curl around his thighs to hold him in place. "You make me sound like a terrible person," he says, too distracted to be an actual complaint, but Shikamaru's thumbs are tracing small, continuous circles on his legs, and his pants aren't nearly enough of a barrier to keep him from being preoccupied with the motion.

"You are a terrible person," Shikamaru informs him, exasperated, but one corner of his mouth is pulled up and there's amusement in his dark eyes. He looks Sai over for a moment, not lingering anywhere, and asks, "You just got back from your mission?"

"Mm. I thought it best to report in to the Jounin Commander immediately—" Sai's attempt to lean in for a real kiss is blocked by Shikamaru's raised hand. A little miffed, he looks up, raising a brow at the younger man.

Shikamaru rolls his eyes. "You did not actually bring me your report by sneaking into my house when I'm off-duty and sitting in my lap," he says flatly.

Sometimes Sai is absolutely certain that Shikamaru is far too used to dealing with Naruto. "I left it with the chuunin on desk duty," he agrees easily, and the suspicion on Shikamaru's face is easy enough to read. Aggravating, but not unexpected; for all that Shikamaru is a lazy slacker who would rather sleep than work, once he actually has a job he's startlingly devoted.

This time, Shikamaru doesn't resist when Sai leans in, making his movements clear. Their mouths meet, slow and intent, and kissing is absolutely another thing Shikamaru devotes himself to. Sai is definitely not complaining; it traces heat through tired muscles, makes his breath come short and quick, makes him shiver when Shikamaru traces a thumbnail up his spine.

"You're not bleeding anywhere, are you?" Shikamaru asks in the brief moment they separate. "Because you bleeding out isn't attractive."

"I'm not bleeding at all," Sai protests, and if he mentally tacks on anymore, well. No one else has to know that, and he has a vested interest in not letting Shikamaru undress him until they're somewhere dark. It's more fun like that, anyway. "And I am always attractive. Ino told me so."

Shikamaru rolls his eyes, very obviously. "Was she drunk or drugged at the time? Also, you two being friends is still creepy."

Sai doesn't tell him that they both have a lot more in common than anyone else might think, because they're friends and friends don't betray each other's secrets. He's learned that much. Instead, he just smiles, tracing lazy circles against the back of Shikamaru's neck as he leans in to bite gently at his earlobe. Not the earring—that's a line that was established very early on—but above it there's a spot that makes Shikamaru's breath hitch, his fingers tighten on Sai's legs.

"Do you really want to talk about Ino right now?" he asks, and maybe seduction missions are more Ino's territory than his, but Shikamaru makes a low, intent sound and rises to his feet, spilling Sai back to the floor. He catches himself before he tumbles to the ground, of course—he's a shinobi, after all, and former Root on top of it—but only has a moment to collect himself before Shikamaru is pulling him out of the kitchen and back towards the stairs. They're up to the second story in a heartbeat, and nothing about Shikamaru is ever fast but this is very close to an exception.

Sai laughs as his back hits the wall beside Shikamaru's door, laughs for a bare instant before it's swallowed between them, buried beneath a quiet moan. He can't tell if it's his or Shikamaru's, but either way he pushes back, fingers of one hand tangling in a bushy ponytail, the other hand grasping desperately for the doorknob beside his hip.

"Impatient," he teases, though he's no better himself.

Shikamaru snorts derisively, made less impressive by the way he knocks Sai's hand away from the door and opens it himself, steering them backwards into his bedroom. The lights are, thankfully, off, and with the heady heat of want under his skin Sai wastes no time stripping his short jacket off and dropping it to the floor.

He's been thinking about this since they crossed the Earth Country border, rushed on by freezing winds and a squad of Iwa nin who were very unhappy that he'd stolen their target. Been thinking about it since he and Ino staggered into Konoha, half-holding each other up and breathless with equal parts victory, the close call, and their run. Been thinking of this precisely—Shikamaru with that spark of want in his eyes, driven to speed as he unbuttons his shirt and kicks off his pants, the way he reaches for Sai and catches his fingers, hauling him close by his beltloops. He kisses Sai again, teeth and heat and the intensity he always hides as deft fingers undo buttons and zippers. A moment later Sai is tripping over the puddle of his baggy uniform pants on the floor, Shikamaru's fingers in his hair and curled around his neck as he walks them back towards the bed.

"Fuck," Shikamaru mutters, and then his hands are on Sai's hips as he falls backwards, barely aiming.

The mattress catches them safely, and their bounce surprises a laugh out of Sai as he lands astride Shikamaru's thighs. Planting a hand on the blanket on either side of Shikamaru's head, he leans down, teasingly close but not quite enough so for another kiss, and says, "I don't know about this. Don't you think you're being a little forward?"

Shikamaru makes a noise of exasperation and swats at Sai's head. "Thank you for reminding me just how much I hate you."

Sai's smile is a little too wide, but for once it's natural. For once he doesn't care. "I've read that friends seeing each other naked is an unconscious expression of deep trust. Dicks are very meaningful, lazybones, you can't simply write off this exciting step in our—"

"Gods, Sai." In a rush of movement, Shikamaru twists, throwing Sai onto the bed and landing sprawled out on top of him, nose-to-nose. Sai blinks up at his narrowed eyes, innocent smile firmly in place, and Shikamaru gives him a flat look. "This is not the first time you've seen me naked. This is not the first time I've seen you naked. This is not even the first time we've had sex."

"But," Sai says solemnly, "with you, every time feels like the first—ack!"

"You," Shikamaru tells him, with the air of a person revealing one of life's great secrets, "are unbelievably troublesome."

Sai bats the pillow away from his face, still laughing a little, and twists his leg around Shikamaru's as he lets himself slide down the bed a bit. "And you are in bed on top of me but not doing anything. I think I should be insulted."

Shikamaru very obviously rolls his eyes again, but he leans down, one hand framing Sai's face, and kisses him deeply. Sai pushes up into it, gets his hands splayed out over Shikamaru's ribcage to feel the quickened pace of his breaths. Shikamaru's mouth is hot, and something in Sai has felt cold and he didn't even realize it until now. Didn't notice, or didn't care, because shinobi aren't supposed to be warm things but—

He sucks in a breath that seems too loud as Shikamaru breaks the kiss to trace the line of his throat with his mouth. Sai tips his head back to make it easier, ghosts his fingers over whatever skin he can touch as lips follow the line of his collarbone down to his chest. A touch to Shikamaru's hair makes the man pause, but when he glances up at Sai it's not a rebuke. The lack of refusal is all Sai needs in invitation; he tugs the tie from Shikamaru's ponytail, trying not to pull too hard, and watches dark strands tumble down. He drags his fingers through them, just barely scrapes his nails over Shikamaru's scalp and gets a low groan for it, and has to laugh.

"You're like a lazy cat, aren't you?" he asks, amused, and Shikamaru makes a grumpy noise at him that does nothing to refute the statement.

"You talk too much," he retorts, closing his hands around Sai's hipbones. The touch is unexpected enough to make Sai twitch, and he gasps when Shikamaru lowers his head to nose across smooth skin. It's just enough of a tease to make Sai shiver, too close to where he wants it to resist a push up into Shikamaru's hands, but he doesn't budge. Shikamaru lays a kiss on his thigh, then another slightly higher up, then another. Sai can feel the whisper of his breath against his cock, and Shikamaru moves over, leans down to leave a kiss on his groin just to the left of his erection, and—

Stops.

Sai whines and feels no shame in it, hips bucking up, one hand fisting in Shikamaru's hair and the other grasping vainly at the blanket. "No," he says breathlessly. "No, please, that's—"

Shikamaru's chuckle is something dark and heady, and the strands of hair that fall to brush against Sai's skin are like firebrands. "You're hard."

"And you're supposed to be a genius," Sai complains. "If you're picking now to be lazy I'm going to—ah!"

A long, slow lick to his cock shatters every coherent thought in his head. He jerks up before he can stop himself, only for Shikamaru to press him back down with an immovable hold and drag his tongue up Sai's shaft. The pleasure is a hot-tingling flood, shaking him, and he breaths out a cry he doesn't have the wherewithal to muffle. Shikamaru hums against his cock, wringing a full-body shiver from him, and Sai lets go of his hair for fear of doing damage, curling his fingers into his own hair instead as Shikamaru works. It's a tide, sweeping him under, and he wants wants wants—

Then the touch is gone, and Sai grabs for Shikamaru in desperation. Shikamaru catches his hand, tugs him up off the mattress with a hard pull, and they tumble over to land with Sai shivering on top, Shikamaru sprawled out beneath him as smug as a cat.

"Did I blow your mind?" Shikamaru asks, and he's breathless himself but Sai is too full of sharp-edged need to care. He leans down, takes Shikamaru's mouth in a desperate, messy kiss, and he's so hard it hurts. A fumbling reach, but before his fingers can even touch the bedside table Shikamaru is shoving a tube into his hand.

"You do it," he says, and it's rough enough to spark Sai's amusement again even if he doesn't have the breath to say so. "I want to—let me watch—"

The viscous liquid is cool against Sai's fingers, but that's hardly about to give him pause. Bracing a hand on Shikamaru's chest, he leans forward, getting his knees underneath him, and reaches back. The first slide of fingers into himself makes his breath hitch, his muscles tremble. It's been a while since they last met, and there's no one else for Sai, so the stretch is sharp but perfect. He uses two fingers, and the angle is awkward and nowhere near deep enough, but Shikamaru's eyes are fixed on his hand, on the way Sai trembles when he grazes over his prostate. His hands are tight around Sai's thighs again, and Sai can't stop a breathless laugh as he leans forward, moaning softly as he slides a third finger in and spreads them.

"See something—" he asks, trying for coy, but has to break off with a groan at the stretch and slide. A moment and he forces his eyes open, his breathing a little more steady, and tries again. "See something you like?"

Shikamaru's eyes flicker up to his face, and if Sai wasn't already breathless the look there would be more than enough to make him. Shikamaru is beautiful in the shadows, just a few bare slivers of light from the hallway and window illuminating his face, and the heady heat in his expression just winds the coil of desire inside of Sai tighter.

"Yeah," he says, and the word rasps, makes Sai shiver a little as it slides down his spine.

Not willing to wait even a moment longer, he reaches back, slicks Shikamaru's cock with whatever lube is left on his hand as Shikamaru groans and arches up into the touch. A push from Sai forces his hips back down, and Sai gets a hand on his cock and shifts back, leans into the stretch but doesn't stop until Shikamaru bottoms out. It aches but in the best way, forces the air from Sai's lungs and drives a cry from between his lips, and when he settles against Shikamaru's hips he has to stop, braced on Shikamaru's chest and trying not to come then and there.

"Idiot," Shikamaru manages, but his expression is dazed, and his grip on Sai is practically desperate. "Did you—hurt yourself?"

Sai doesn't fight the faint bubble of a laugh, though it makes his back arch, drives his eyes closed as he leans back carefully, slowly. "It feels good," he says, and swallows a whine as he slides down the last centimeter. It could be an answer to Shikamaru's question or entirely unrelated, and even Sai isn't sure. There's a buzzing under his skin, and all he can think about is how full he feels, the thickness inside of him pressing at his walls. It's always a shock to do this, has never been something Sai could simply get used to, and he loves it, raw and strange and closer than anything he's felt before. It's like assassination, a little, like being pressed up against a target close enough to watch the life leave their eyes, but in reverse. This isn't death; it's the furthest thing from it.

Shikamaru groans, head tipping back against the mattress, and he doesn't otherwise move, but he's breathing hard. It makes Sai smile, and with a bit of effort he gets his knees under him, rise up and lets gravity pull him back down with a cry. Beneath him Shikamaru jolts, hips snapping up, and Sai lets it rock him forward only to thrust back. He gets a hand on one of Shikamaru's knees, pulled up to brace him, and lets his body lead in long, heavy strokes that make his head spin with heat.

"Sai," Shikamaru gasps out, and an instant later there's a hand around his cock, making Sai cry out. His rhythm stutters, he sways, but with a desperate noise Shikamaru thrusts again, trying to keep him moving. It takes a moment, but Sai remembers, practically bouncing on Shikamaru's cock as he thrusts forward into the grip on his erection and down into the hot-bright stretch of the dick inside of him. It drags over nerve endings, pressure against that spot inside of him, and Sai can hear the breathless, eager noises that he's making but couldn't stop them for anything, doesn't want to. He can feel the pleasure winding tight, growing, burning sharp and hot like a phosphorus flame, and he wants it even as he wants this to last even a minute longer.

The muscles in his legs falter, dropping him back hard on a thrust, and Shikamaru makes a punched-out noise of pleasure, hips jerking up as his hand tightens on Sai's cock. That's all it takes, and the coil snaps, slamming through Sai with unexpected force. He comes hard, strangled cry bursting from him as he arches, grasping desperately for an anchor as his vision whites out for a breathless, perfect moment.

He comes back as Shikamaru's hands tighten on his thighs, desperately pulling him into another thrust. All of Sai's muscles and limbs may as well be water but he leans back, gasping at the short, hard thrusts against nerves still humming with pleasure but clenching down, pushing into each arch of Shikamaru's body. He feels dizzy with it, dazed, but when Shikamaru shouts and jerks, his whole body bowing, Sai keeps his eyes open and on the other man, committing it to memory.

In the silence broken only by their heavy breaths, Sai slumps forward, forces trembling muscles to work as he pushes up one more time. The drag of Shikamaru's cock leaving his body makes him swallow another groan, and without care he lets himself pitch forward to land on the mattress beside Shikamaru, closing his eyes and basking. It feels so good like this, body well-used, pleasantly exhausted, the aftermath of arousal sparking across his nerves. He can't feel the ache inside of him yet, but he will tomorrow, and he's glad.

The brush of fingers through his hair makes him open one eye blearily, to see Shikamaru propped up on one elbow and smirking at him.

"Mind blown?" he asks, and it's so smug that Sai fights through the pleasantly overwhelming lassitude to answer, because he's not about to let that stand.

"You have a nice dick," he agrees, and precisely when Shikamaru's smugness reaches critical mass adds cheerfully, "If only you knew how to use it."

Shikamaru splutters, deeply offended, and Sai snickers. "You make me do all the work," he points out, and when Shikamaru grabs the pillow again he throws his arms up to shield his face, laughing brightly.

After a few swings, Shikamaru apparently decides that's too much exertion for him, and with an exasperated sigh he tosses the pillow away. Nudging Sai over, he slides out of bed, and a minute later comes back with a warm, wet cloth that he throws at Sai's head.

"What a gentleman," Sai tells him, cheerfully wiping himself down. Shikamaru has already done the same, so he folds the cloth neatly and sets it aside, then carefully pushes upright.

Shikamaru is watching him, sprawled on the bed once more. When Sai glances up at him—because this is the part of the night he hates, the uncertainty and lack of structure, with too many ways for things to go—he huffs out a sigh that's likely meant to be irritated and flips the blanket next to him down.

"My mother will be home at eight," he says, and it's clearly a warning.

Still, that's more than enough for Sai. He takes the offer, sliding under the covers and dropping down against the pillow, and says sweetly, "I'll wake you at five, then."

"Only if you want to die," Shikamaru returns, narrowing his eyes at him. Sai gives him his most innocent smile, and Shikamaru groans. "I regret all of my life choices."

Sai laughs, and when Shikamaru flops down in surrender he lets himself curl closer, just near enough to feel the warmth of Shikamaru's skin.

Suffuse with goodwill, Sai does not wake his bed partner at five. He slips out of bed, quiet enough that Shikamaru doesn't even stir, and collects his clothes. Most of his gear is back at Ino's house, unfortunately, but he digs through his pockets and finds a length of ninja wire, a stray kunai, his spare ink and brushes, and a scrap of paper. A trip down to the kitchen gives him a bucket with a cup of water in the bottom, and he carefully rigs it above Shikamaru's bed, ready to tip, then runs the wire holding it up to the top of the window frame.

Satisfied, Sai quickly sketches out a mouse and gives it just enough chakra to come to life, and when it scurries into his palm he raises it to eye level with a smile. "When you see the light from the windows reach here—" He sets the kunai down to mark the spot "—I want you to chew through this wire, all right?"

Bright eyes study him for a moment, and then the mouse chitters an agreement. Sai strokes its tiny head, then sets it on the window frame beside the wire and slips out of the room. His tantō is still on the kitchen table where he dropped it, and he collects it, then ghosts out of the house. The Nara compound is deathly silent, as is to be expected from a clan of late sleepers, and the one guard is yawning hard enough that it's no trouble at all to slip past her and out into the street.

Despite the hour and less sleep than would be ideal, Sai feels strangely restless. He thinks back to waking up, pressed against Shikamaru's side with Shikamaru's arm beneath his head, and something in his chest goes tight and nearly painful. He didn't want to leave, even if Nara Yoshino was coming home from visiting her sister. He wanted to stay, to wake up with Shikamaru and mock him for his ridiculous bedhead and find out how he takes his coffee on a lazy off-duty morning. Wanted to greet Yoshino, and not have his presence be something strange.

He didn't want to leave, but that's not how things work between them.

Almost of their own volition, Sai's feet turn towards the Yamanaka Flower Shop. It's nearby, at the eastern corner of the Yamanaka compound, and even though the sun has barely risen over the forest there's a light on inside.

It feels like a relief to pick the lock and slip inside, padding through the rows of cut flowers and the shelves of potted plants. Like a jungle, eerie and wild in the heavy shadows, and it makes Sai's fingers stray towards where he would normally carry his sketchbook. Not a drawing to use in a fight, but…Sai has learned, or learned again, what it's like to draw for himself instead of just a future battle. A glance back, trying to fix the play of shadow in his mind, and then Sai moves on, taking the two steps down into the room where the bouquets are made.

Ino is at one of the tables, hair falling loose around her, flowers scattered across the surface do the wood and slipping off the edge to pool on the bench beside her. Red lotuses, white camellia, white gardenia, and Sai takes them in with something heavy settling in his chest. He's been friends with Ino long enough to read the tale of unrequited love and years of waiting written in their petals.

"A beautiful bouquet," he says, and Ino doesn't jump, just raises her head and casts him a tired smile. Her face is lined, and he wonders if she got any sleep at all after their return.

With a sigh, he takes the seat next to her, scooping up a camellia that's about to tumble to the floor and reaching out. Ino doesn't knock his hand away, so he brushes her hair out of her face, slipping the flower in among the thick, soft strands.

"Very beautiful," he adds, and smiles at her.

Ino laughs a little, reaching up to rub at her eyes. She straightens up, picking up a lotus, and without ceremony tucks it behind his ear. "There," she says. "Now we match."

Sai likes lotuses, so he would hardly mind. "Thank you," he tells her gravely, and is pleased when Ino's smile deepens, turns just a little more genuine.

"Not a problem, partner." Her fingers brush across his cheek, taking in the bags that his handful of hours at rest weren't enough to banish, and her mouth pulls into a bittersweet curve. "Don't give me that face when you're just as bad as me, Sai."

Sai surrenders the point with a tip of one shoulder, and asks, "Mission?"

"I love you." Ino leans over and kisses him soundly on the forehead, then slides off the bench. "Yes please. If I have to sit around the village watching her pine after that asshole—"

This is a rant Sai has heard more than once, so he feels safe interrupting. "You know, beautiful, at one point you might have been accused of the same thing."

Ino's humph of disdain is clear. "When I was twelve and liking another girl and my best friend was scary, sure. But I grew up. It's like just seeing his stupid face turns her back into a helpless child and it pisses me off. She's is the strongest kunoichi in the village, maybe even in the world, and if I catch her sighing over the way he said goodbye to her—which, for the record, is the same way his brother said goodbye to him—ugh. If I see that one more time I'm going to scream."

Sai holds the door into the house open for her, then follows her through. He doesn't try to offer platitudes, because Ino gets that from Choji and doesn't need more of it from him. Instead, he lets her grumble as he trails her up through the silent house and into her bedroom. He waits while she changes, and they're comfortable enough with each other that he doesn't bother lingering on the other side of the door when it's easier just to take a seat on the bed, crossing his legs under him.

"What are you thinking?" Ino asks, wriggling into her uniform top. "Scouting, border patrol, assassination, courier mission?"

With a thoughtful hum, Sai leans back on his hands, glancing up at the ceiling. "We just did an assassination, and no matter how much you want to escape Sakura I'm not going to spend four weeks camping during the rainy season, so no border patrol."

Ino rolls her eyes, resettles the camellia in her hair, and picks up her pack and the sheath with the two long knives she favors. Sai's pack is beside it, since he left it with Ino after they finished writing their reports, and he catches it easily when she tosses it to him.

"You've gotten so soft it's ridiculous," she accuses. "Fine. How about we see what's available and decide while we're there?"

Sai accepts this compromise with a smile, and when Ino grabs his hands he allows her to pull him to his feet and then towards the open window. "Acceptable. But if you pick something in Frost Country be aware I'll wait for you at the border."

With a laugh, Ino leaps out, landing lightly in the street, and as soon as Sai touches down next to her she grabs his hand again, linking their fingers together. "Fine, then we'll ask for the one about people going missing down near the Tea Country border. Is that warm enough for Your Highness?" The roll of her eyes is so obvious it's practically audible. "You could just wear a uniform like the rest of us, you know."

"I like my clothes, though." Sai doesn't point that he is wearing a uniform, and that's one of the reasons he can't simply move on to a jounin uniform. Root is still very much a part of him—it's the part of him that remembers Shin, more importantly—and he can't give it up.

Captain Yamato understands, but sometimes Sai thinks he's the only one who does.

Still, even if Ino can't understand completely, the way her sharp blue eyes linger on him says that she knows at least intellectually why he's being stubborn about this, and the soft, faintly sad smile she favors him with says she isn't going to push.

Sometimes—most of the time—Sai is very glad to have Ino as a partner.

Banishing the solemn mood, Ino bumps him with her hip, squeezes his fingers, and lets go. "Race you there," she challenges cheekily, and in a blur she's up on the rooftops and bolting for the Administration Building.

Sai laughs before he can help himself, calls up a shunshin, and vanishes in a swirl of ink. Ino curses when he lands in front of her, but redoubles her pace, and Sai waves tauntingly before he leaps a cluster of roots, swarms up a tree clinging to the edge of a building, and leaps for the next.

The sun is coming up, and even if this isn't how he wanted to start the day, he can think of worse ways.