Disclaimer: Even if I were to claim I own the Potterverse or Narutoverse, no one would believe me. So. Yeah, I totally own these 'verses. Kneel, motherfucker.

Whispers In The Dark

~ And Other Morally Reprehensible Things ~

by Rozen Krone

Dog's Pack: Fear The Mind's Puppeteer

Like the gargoyles that surrounded seemingly every pureblood's mansion, I crouched upon the rooftop of the Konoha General Hospital in silent vigil. Between the Disillusionment, Muffling, and Scent-Blocking Charms, I was more or less hidden from all forms of natural sensory; and with my chakra veiling technique, which I have taken to calling the Enshrouding Charm, I was hidden from supernatural sensory. It wasn't perfect, and the few flaws in the technique would no-doubt land me in a sticky situation one of these days, but for this operation, it was more than enough.

As I waited for the sun to fall beneath the horizon, I could only wonder what my comrades would think of me if they could see me now. I was, after all, about to commit breaking and entering into a house of healing so I could crack open an old man's mind and steal all his secrets. There is no greater violation of privacy. And I'd do worse, before all was done. In my hunt to slay Lord Voldemort, I've become what I once hated most: Dark. And I found that I just didn't care anymore. How... poetic.

It's not like I cared about killing Voldemort anymore. It gave me purpose, direction, a meaning to my life, sure. But I've already driven him away from Britain, if at the cost of everyone I had wanted to protect in the first place. And I saw no need for vengeance. I'm going to kill him, merely because killing him is all I know. All there ever was to me.

The sun passed beneath the trees, casting a great shadow over the land. I snickered, knowing my magic would nullify the sound. It wasn't like me to cry over spilt coffee. I had bled my tendency to mope and murmur out of myself during the War. There had been no use for guilt or regrets back then.

I stalked over to the far corner of the Hospital rooftop, steps silent even without aid from my magic. I suppose I shouldn't feel surprised. Taicho was trained by the White Fang and the Yellow Flash, and he's combined the worst of both their training regimes and doubled their session length, knowing my Jinchuuriki-enhanced stamina could handle it. It's some perverse form of protective instinct. He knows we'll be moved off patrol roster in six months and he doesn't want me to make a rookie mistake on a mission and get myself killed. I suppose it's better than lazing around, but I still want to hex him every time he wakes me up after a mere three and a half hours' rest.

As I reach the edge, I pace backwards precisely seventeen steps, and sideways another nine. Judging that this is about as accurate as my reconnaissance will get me, I nod to myself in satisfaction and activate the Cloak.

Death's Cloak of Intangibility is a... curious artifact. The first several dozen times I had activated it, I sunk straight through the earth. I had to Apparate to the surface and nullify my magic or risk incineration from the heat deep beneath the Earth should the Cloak bleed my reserves dry. A very real fear, considering its power requirement. In the end, I reverse engineered one of the weaker Barrier Charms in my arsenal, and developed a version that coalesced the corporeal magic underneath me instead of all around me. It was exceedingly difficult modifying the barrier to make contact with me at all, considering the entire purpose of the spell was to somehow counteract my intangibility, but in the end I managed it by simply tying it into the Cloak's effects in the same way my clothing was.

This spell, which I spent seven months developing, is not cast. Instead, I sink through the rooftop, and three more floors beneath it. I only erect the modified Barrier Charm when I find myself face to face with one Yamanaka Inoshasa, of Konoha General Hospital's Long Term Effects Ward.

Cutting the flow of power to the Cloak which had been melded with my soul years ago, I recast the four Anti-Sensory Charms. I make sure to stay out of the hidden camera's field of view for the split second I was visible after the disruption of the Cloak's magic. I then magically manifest an Illusion of the room as it was moments prior in front of the ocular lens.

When I had realized the Illusory Arts were one of the three great shinobi arts, I immediately looked into the field and compared and contrasted it with magic's variation. I found the two to be incredibly different, both in strengths and weaknesses. The shinobi version feeds energy into the enemy's mind, turning their own chakra system against them, but can be disrupted by a chakra burst. The wizarding version however bends light and manifests a true Illusion, not changing the target's reaction to stimuli but rather the stimuli itself.

While Genjutsu cannot be used to block a camera lens like I have moments earlier, it is also far more efficient resource-wise. Even with my considerable spiritual energy reserves, I can only maintain the magical Illusion for a short while. Between that, my usage of the Cloak, the four Anti-Sensory Charms, and what I'm about to do next? Taicho is going to be less than impressed when I show up for our fourteen hour training session in thirty minutes down half of my spiritual energy reserves. But no use bemoaning my imminent torture session. Magic's a-wasting.

I stride casually over to the comatose Yamanaka, flip open his eyelids, mutter the incantation, and slip into his mind. The moment the vast Tapestry manifests before me, I recall my least favorite teacher's explanation on the offensive Mind Art:

"The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing... It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly."

And if there is one talent of mine I am most proud of, it is my mastery over Legilimency. The mind takes a different representation for each practitioner of the Art, and so each hopeful must pave their own road. Severus once told me that, for him, the mind of his target manifests as a great castle of glass; how he delves through it, and how he interprets it as knowledge, I haven't the slightest clue.

But I see life differently. I find character to be a primordial balance between nature and nurture, a realization I came to watching Dudley become exactly like his father. I also find life to be like a rainbow of colors, such as when I saw the almost Gryffindor Tracey Davis become more and more Slytherin the longer she wore their green and silver. I find beauty in death, grace in combat, and art in broken battlefields.

And so I interpret the mind of others like a cinematic reel, what I have come to call the Tapestry. But whereas my eyes are bound by the limitations of the world, and can only see a specific section of the color spectrum due to their grounding in reality, my mind has no such law. The Tapestry has thousands upon thousands of colors, each color a single thread, and only a small handful depict my targets' experiences; just like only a small section of the mind contains memory. Other threads measure primal instinct, emotion, knowledge, intuition, desires, higher conscious thought, movement of the physical body, perception, personality, and recognition of external stimuli. And like a masterful puppeteer, the mind is my marionette.

It is as beautiful as it is deadly. The first time I removed myself from a full dive, I found the waking world to be indescribably dull compared to the sheer vividness of the mind.

Within moments of analyzing the Yamanaka's final waking memories I realize the civilian nurse I had Legilimized yesterday morning had accurate information. This fool, halfway through developing a new Mind-Walking Technique, managed to sever his own consciousness. Dumbass. He'll be sitting pretty until one of his clansmen takes pity on him and reverse engineers the Technique he's been working on. And considering most of his clan works for the Torture & Interrogation Division, I can imagine them being sadistic assholes about it and making him suffer for a few months. I'd do the same thing, had I been this moron's cousin. Too bad now's not the time to be mocking the idiot Yamanaka.

I cast my focus to both the beginning and the end of the Tapestry, and ignore all else save for the threads depicting knowledge. I sever these threads at both ends, but instead of becoming undone, the vaguely blue metaphysical depictions of thousands upon thousands of facts duplicate themselves. I bind the copy and store it in my own mind, but cast a cursory glance back over his Tapestry before leaving.

I'm glad I did, because I notice most of his threads in the Tapestry growing steadily longer, and realize he's still awake. Not fully conscious, perhaps, but semi-aware all the same. And while I could carefully edit out my own presence, as I possess the finesse and skill required, it would take at the least thirty more minutes stuck in this idiot's mind. Thirty minutes I don't have, with my Anti-Sensory Charms and Illusion draining away at my spiritual energy. And even that might not be enough, as I have yet to peruse my stolen knowledge on the Yamanaka Kinjutsu.

Inoichi fooling even my mastery over Occlumency flashed through my mind. No, I cannot take the risk. I refuse to be found.

As I pull out of the unlucky Yamanaka's mind, I come to a decision. I slink over to the rolling medical device keeping him alive, the complicated invention pumping oxygen into his blood. Slipping a kunai from my holster, I slit a certain cord. In a single heartbeat, oxygen stops pulsing into the man's circulatory network, and instead uselessly oxygenated the medical bay air. A second slice later, and the cord relaying his heartbeat to the machine's monitor blinks out, failing to whir the alarm.

No one can know I was here. Granted, were he to one day wake up, he'd just assume another Yamanaka had been in his mind. Thing is, my chakra signature is now laced all over his brain; even when it fades in ten to fifteen minutes, he'll still have it memorized from the sheer virtue of close contact with his own chakra. There is always the chance that he might recognize me from Sensory alone. I cannot take that chance. The Potter luck would see him curious over how a non-Yamanaka could enter his mind, and from there, I'd find myself back in the Interrogation & Extraction chambers.

He worked for T&I. If the Uchiha Police Force magically grows more clever overnight and determines his cause of death as sabotage, they'll have thousands of potential suspects who might have a bone to pick with him. Considering how easy it was to slice a few cords, and how shinobi can create clones or civilians can hire mercenaries for twenty Ryo a pop, their odds of narrowing down the list of suspects any reasonable number are dismal. And nowhere will I be on that list anyways. What would I, rookie ANBU and self-proclaimed future Hokage want with the death of some random Yamanaka?

I once more activate the Cloak and cast the modified Barrier Charm, making my way out of the Hospital. I can't help but wonder over how easy it had been to murder someone. How the Rose Potter of ten years ago would rather commit suicide than do such a thing. I stifle a rueful laugh at the thought.

When had I ever been innocent?

Ghosting through the walls of the Village's prime General Hospital, I slip into the nearest alleyway and Disapparate. The Muffling Charm is attached to me, and since the trademark crack snaps the air after my disappearance, it's not a spell I wish to use in an occupied area unless I want to erect a static Soundless Field Charm. And as I won't be around to take the spell back down after I Disapparate, I'd rather some nurse not realize the laws of physics were broken in the room a renowned Torture & Interrogation clansmen had died under mysterious circumstances.

Reappearing in my ANBU-assigned dorm room deep beneath the Village Hidden in the Leaf, I attach my standard issue fox mask and cut the flow of magic to my four Anti-Sensory Charms. Nodding in satisfaction, I split my focus in half and begin the long trek to Training Field Forty Two. Meanwhile, the other half of my attention is centered inwards. I breathe deeply, and with the mental imaging of a crack of lightning obliterating the moon, call forth my Occlumency.

I have forty-odd years of knowledge curled up into a tight ball and locked in the back of my mind from my... less-than-kind treatment of Yamanaka Inoshasa. If I just leave it back there to rot, it'll drag down my thought processes like too many gigabytes on an old computer. Plus, there's a reason I chose to Legilimize a Yamanaka T&I member. Their clan Kinjutsu has been driving me insane with worry. Not even the Dark Lord has been able to fuck with my mind since that catastrophe Fifth Year. While I did allow Inoichi in, he wasn't supposed to actually manage to erase any memories.

I find the royal blue spool of stolen memories deep in the back, away from my own Tapestry. I prod it with the slightest burst of magic, and as it unravels, forty years of implicit memories assault my mind.

Think of an amnesiac patient. They can remember how to ride a bike, but they haven't the slightest clue who taught them, when, how, what their first bike looked like... They lack conscious awareness of how they acquired this ability, just that they have this ability. That's what an implicit memory is.

I remember clearly the time I had Legilimized Lucius Malfoy. Instead of unravelling his implicit memories, I had chosen the explicit by accident. I was never able to look Narcissa in the eye again, which coming from me is saying something. Not necessarily good, but something. It was unfortunate as she had defected to our side by then, and I had to meet up with her every other week for the next five years to talk resources. The moment she realized why I always stuttered or flushed in her presence? Most awkward conversation of my life.

But I now have forty years of extra implicit memories thrown into my mind. Granted, it's not the first time I've done such a thing, and won't be the last, either. Much of Occlumency is giving yourself subconscious commands that later become automatic, like breathing, or beating your heart. It's why I always become calm under pressure, rational in the face of overwhelming anger, and check my surroundings immediately upon awakening; I had quite literally programmed these tendencies into my very brain. Occlumency affects both the conscious and subconscious after all, and implicit memories are firmly in the realm of the latter.

For example, I already know how to walk, so the implicit memory teaching me that isn't at all helpful. When I first developed this technique, I was becoming mentally slower and slower as my mind was bogged down by all of this redundant data. So when I commanded my mind to delete all but one 'copy' of implicit memories, and to automatically do so every time I absorb more of them, my magic responded.

Ergo, one hundred percent of the redundant knowledge I acquire is immediately obliterated by my magic. All that leaves is the new knowledge, which unfortunately isn't completely helpful, as I now know the cup sizes of every Yamanaka female above the age of fourteen. Yamanaka Inoshasa, apparently, is a pervert. Surprise, surprise. Maybe that's why no one bothered trying to release him from his self-induced comatose state. Killing him might've been a public service.

Moving on from that, I begin sorting through the more relevant data, because when I came to the Elemental Nations I had no idea there was an entire clan of Mind-Walkers in my chosen Village. And perverted he might be, but Inoshasa was no pushover. He was a veteran T&I Jounin, skilled enough to begin developing his own Techniques, even if he royally fucked it up. I had chosen him for a reason, after all.

I was just coming to the section on chakra theory about most Yamanaka Kinjutsu secretly being dual-target Genjutsu when I arrive at Training Field Forty Two with seconds to spare. Taicho smiles at me, an all-too-happy grin I can perceive even through the mask. The smile promises pain.

How? I wonder. He doesn't have his Sharingan out. How does he know I've depleted my Yin chakra? How!?

"You must be so eager to train today if you started already, Fox-chan," he tells me. "Fifty laps."

I swallow, but don't dare to complain. Forty Two isn't the largest of the Training Fields, even if it is close. He's only asking me to run twenty five fucking miles as the warm-up's warm-up. Inwardly flinging Cruciatus Curses at my Taicho's dementedly grinning body, I pulse the bare minimum of chakra through my system and kick off into a heavy run.

Most of my schedule this last week since joining ANBU has been hardcore physical exertion. I need to build up muscle and physical energy, quick. Turns out my Metamorph talent isn't supposed to age me from five to seventeen without a few harmful side effects. Like death. Had I been anyone other than a Jinchuuriki, specifically of the Nine Tails, I would have killed myself through sheer ignorance.

Whoops.

I can't actually affect the volume, density, and strength of my chakra network, bone structure, or musculature. When I aged myself twelve years, my muscles grew in size to match my elder frame, sure; but they also weakened in strength inversely. Despite being larger, they were no more powerful. I was, essentially, running around those first four weeks with a five-year-old's muscle strength. Without the demonic chakra empowering my body, I wouldn't have been able to walk at all.

Bone structure was even worse. They were larger, yes, but less dense because of it. I was ridiculously fragile and didn't have the slightest clue. A fall down a particularly large set of stairs might have actually managed to kill me where the Dark Lord Voldemort failed for twenty-five years. How pathetic is that?

In the end, though, my chakra network is likely what would have done me in. I can enlarge and shrink my coils, but the chakra resists my magic, like matching magnets. It forces a constant magic drain rather than the one-off transformation cost I'm used to for Metamorphing my body. If I'm careful I can reduce the size of my ears and tail without touching the chakra network, but I can only shrink their size maybe twenty percent, and it makes me look oddly proportioned. But I wasn't doing that; I was clever enough not to fuck around with alien biology, especially when said foreign material is hooked up to a demon of incomprehensible power. What I was doing was somehow worse.

My magic shrouds my coils, taking up the corner of my mind that regulates control over supernatural energies: which is apparently a thing. I was slowly draining myself dry of chakra simply by automatically infusing my body with the energy and strength needed to walk. I would have eventually faced chakra depletion – I should have faced chakra depletion, had I not had that Tailed Beast in my gut – and never known until I keeled over, already a corpse.

The medical shinobi who diagnosed the problem hadn't the slightest clue why I was unable to access my chakra network, but ended up blaming 'the idiotic bastard who experimented on a five-year-old Jinchuuriki.' The mind apparently sends electrical signals into it like it would any other organ, which is how shinobi can 'control' it. But my magic already took that spot in my brain, an unfortunate side effect of my ruthless and ignorant Occlumency techniques my first hour in the Elemental Nations. Luckily, spiritual energy generated in the soul doesn't show up in their scans, because they use the energy manifested in the mind. After an eight hour long surgery, they were able to re-connect the brain tissue to the chakra network, so now I can 'feel' it.

And I was running on fumes. Two more days? No more Rose Potter-Black.

The Fire Shadow called in several dozen Jounin and had them donate their chakra, infusing it into my chakra coils. Now Taicho has me doing nothing but physical exercise until I no longer require constant chakra expenditure and nightly infusions from his own coils to stand upright. Even my ridiculous reserves aren't infinite, and if I never have the chance to actually regenerate chakra, it was only a matter of time until I ran out. I'd rather not win the award for most humiliating death one week into the Black Ops, thank you.

Unfortunately, that means more running. As an academic Ravenclaw, even one who cheated on just about every assignment and test during my six-year tenure, I find physical exertion to be awful. I exercised religiously back in Britain, yes, but only because reflex and agility could save my life in a fight. Had I lived in peace time, I would have gleefully used my Metamorph talent to stay more-or-less in shape while I lazed around with books and chocolate all day, every day. I would have gotten away with it too. With the fortunes of the Potters and Blacks, I would never have had to work a day in my life.

But this isn't that world. Because of my forced aging, I now have to work out like Oliver Wood before a Quidditch match with Slytherin just so I don't accidentally off myself in the middle of the night. Fuck.

I suppose I should feel thankful. If it weren't for the chakra monster in my gut, I would be too dead to complain. Said chakra monster is also amplifying my endurance to godly levels, giving me the resources needed to build up my physical energy the natural way. Despite all of the grief it caused me/Naruto in my/our youth, I found myself grateful to it, not that it had a choice in the matter. Now only if it could give me a... shortcut...

Could it be that easy?

My Inspection Charms, the trance magic that first broke the news of a faux magic circulatory system to me all those weeks ago beneath the orphanage, had also told me - on further study - that the chakra demon in my gut was formed entirely out of Yang chakra: otherwise known as physical energy. It was demonic, yes, but Yang chakra all the same. I don't know if Namikaze Minato took the Yin half to the Shinigami with him, or if that is simply how Tailed Beasts are, but I also don't care. Why would I work so hard to increase my Yang production by minute increments when I have a demon bound to my will that can do it for me? All I'd have to do would manipulate the Seal to pulse far more of its demonic energy into my body than the insignificant leak it is managing right now. Problem solved.

Thing is, I don't know the Sealing Arts. There are no real Fuuinjutsu Masters in the Leaf of sufficient skill for me to Legilimize, and have a snowball's chance in Hell of altering the Seal and not killing myself halfway. The only practitioner that would have enough skill would be Jiraiya the Toad Sage, but he's a Sannin and a little out of my league at the moment.

I'll have to ask Taicho, then. Give him the idea, see what he makes of it. We only have six months before we start going on missions, and if I have to spend the entire time doing nothing but laps and other basic physical exertion I'll never be ready. The only things I've learned are silent footsteps and Tree-Climbing or Wall-Walking or whatever they're calling it, and I had to cheat to learn even that.

I finish the fiftieth lap and drop into a set of push-ups without bothering to wait for Taicho's say-so. I then move on to crunches, mountain climbers, lunges, and half a million other things that the very thought of makes me want to swear up a storm. I can't wait until I learn some Clone Technique I can Transform to look like Taicho, just so I can Crucio it. I have plenty of pent-up rage, I suppose.

Although his 'welcome-to-the-Black-Ops' gift alleviated my anger somewhat. Jiraiya is a goddamn genius. Where has he been all my life? If I wasn't into women, I'd throw myself at him, him being my grandfather's age notwithstanding. Christ. I can see why Taicho carries the entire series around with him. I will too when I finally get the time to have a Sealing tattoo inked on me.

I was just moving on to pull-ups off a tree branch when I was interrupted and not at all in a good way.

"Fox-chan! Come say hello to Crow-chan! She'll be your partner from here on out, kinda like how Weasel-kun is stuck with Mouse," Taicho called. I snickered to myself, finding amusement in the way Mouse grew a tree out of the earth in front of him only to smash a chakra-infused fist through it in hybrid fury and dejection. I knew Taicho was actually rather fond of Mouse, but since Mouse was clearly raised in the ANBU, his social skills weren't exactly sharp. He obviously couldn't see the almost brotherly if distant affection in Taicho's voice that's all but obvious to me.

I wasn't going to point it out to him. His depression was far too funny.

As I dropped to the earth from a low-hanging branch, I decided that there was at least one silver lining to my near accidental suicide by Metamorph misuse. While I couldn't actually manipulate the size of my chakra coils for longer than a handful of moments, as the chakra flow would repulse the magic and force it back to normal – or, at least, Jinchuuriki dimension traveler normal – I could tighten the coils near the tenketsu at the soles of my feet for that needed second to skyrocket my chakra control by diminishing my chakra capacity in that extremity. Not the most glamorous use of the famed Black family talent, but I was able to pick up Wall-Walking, or Tree-Climbing as my comrade tree-huggers like to call it, in only two hours. And once I figured it out, I separated the implicit memory from the explicit and buried it deep in my subconscious, skipping the need for practice and making it instinct. It wouldn't help my chakra control or muscle memory, but my mind would be prepared, which is something, at least.

It's cheating, but I'm an official shinobi now, so cheating is kind of in the job description. I was never the most honorable sort in the first place. I didn't earn the moniker "the Butcher of London" by playing fair.

Then Taicho's words finally made it through my ears and into my brain, and I realized I now had to put up with another human being every day for the next several years.

In my defense, I was still hung up on Yamanaka Inoshasa's implicit memories, then laughing at Mouse's insecurities. I had no idea having a fifth member join our already overpowered patrol and training team was even in the cards, let alone being dealt. We already had a shapeshifting and mildly unbalanced Jinchuuriki, the last practitioner of the Wood Release, the Uchiha prodigy, and Sharingan no Kakashi, sole surviving student of both the White Fang and Yellow Flash. And all we did was patrol.

I wasn't dense, either. I knew why this team was put together. Taicho held an emotional connection to me, reducing the chance of their sole demon container becoming a flight risk or even more mentally unshackled, and was well-versed with the Sharingan – which was ideal for taming a Tailed Beast. Weasel had the same eyes, for even more insurance, and his placement on a training and patrol team soothed his clan head's ambitions, offered a Village prodigy valuable instruction under the Copy Ninja's care, and calmed the Fire Shadow's guilt over having a twelve year old in his Black Ops. Mouse's Wood Release was rumored to be even better than the Sharingan at controlling Tailed Beasts, and he could gain some valuable social and communication skills in a team with my Taicho and I; I assume the decision was made before I 'randomly' transformed into kind of an asshole 'overnight.'

So I saw no reason why a fifth piece had been added to an already solved puzzle, unless the Fire Shadow just liked to fuck with us. Which was possible. I held fond memories of him, but looking back with a far more advanced mind I found much to be suspicious of. I held no personal relation to such a busy man, only military resource. And yet, he found time to play at Dumbledore's "kindly grandfather" persona and endear himself to me. I don't blame him though. Back during the Blood War, if some random kid showed up with a demon as powerful as the Nine-Tails in his gut, I'd endear myself to him too. Hell, I'd probably adopt him and feed him ice cream every night, so he never turned on me and mine, and seven years down the line I can point him at my enemies and shout 'kill!'

I could understand the move. I hated him for it, because it was blatant manipulation, but I could understand it.

"Taicho," I hummed non-commitedly, rounding the bend in the glade in that half-sprint all ANBU who can't pull of a Body Flicker are supposed to manage when a superior officer calls their tag name. I was just turning to my new partner when my Sensory caught up with my dash and caught the taste of cold snake venom, the coppery tang of blood, and pure sugar. "Oh, fuck."

"Nice to meet you too, Foxy," came the heavily amused response.

I double-checked: violet hair, teasing attire, sadistic and slightly demented grin that can be sensed through the mask; yes, this is the crazy snake lady who tortured me, and the Kami seemed to think I'd trust her to watch my back.

She makes me think of a pre-Azkaban Bellatrix Black. Which is not a compliment. Not at all.

"No offense, Crow-sama, I'm sure you have a great personality," I began, pausing briefly as Taicho tried and failed to muffle a snicker. "Somewhere... somewhere deep, deep down... But we didn't exactly get off to the greatest start. Can I trade her back for a new one, Taicho?"

"So you remember, huh?" Crow, who I knew as torturer extraordinaire Mitarashi Anko, said. I thought I heard a hint of something undefinable underneath, but couldn't really tell. It's not like I blamed her for interrogating me – it was her job, after all – but she made me weak, and that cannot be excused. "I'll have to tell Inoichi-san his Technique, which has a flawless success record, failed."

"I remember enough," I managed, "but it seems Yamanaka-san failed to account for my alien neurology and advanced regenerative capabilities."

Idly I wondered if Inoichi, clan head of the Yamanakas, would make the same mistake twice if word got out I just casually murdered someone who was probably his uncle something-or-other. Probably not. Then again, I wouldn't walk out of the Interrogation & Extraction chamber alive if he knew.

Good thing I plan on taking that little tidbit to the grave. I feel rather hypocritical condemning Crow for sanctioned torture when I just murdered an innocent, comatose man. Oh well. I never made a claim for sainthood.

"Maybe a spar will cheer you up?"

"You'd destroy me," I countered, voice deadpan. "I have one week of training, Crow-sama." I wonder if throttling my partner is against the ANBU rulebook – I wouldn't know, Taicho never gives me time to read it. Nevertheless I decide not to continue this utterly unproductive conversation until I have the strength to back it up, without resorting to my magic, which I'm trying to keep hidden, and am not juvenile enough to bust out over a cat fight. "Just don't touch me, and we'll get along like a house on fire."

"Oh, they grow up so fast! Already acting so mature and worldly!" Taicho exaggeratedly tackle-hugged me, but was moving slowly enough that my extremely limited knowledge of the Body Replacement Technique let me switch myself with Crow. She was less than impressed, leering down at her new Taicho, whose speed suddenly ratcheted up several notches and was just barely able to avoid her no-doubt poisoned kunai. "Why, my adorable little sister? Why would you do such things to me?"

"You can't touch me either, Taicho-niisan," I drawled. "Last time you did, you tried to cop a feel, once more forgetting I'm – as you so eloquently put it – you're adorable little sister. Creep."

Crow laughed, while I shot Taicho a confused look when he pretended to wail in grief. It was a little... much, even for him. Is there something going on?

"What has you so excited, Taicho?" Crow asked, sensing the same thing. Her tone was casual, as if she already knew the man rather well. She paused before the respectful address, as if wanting to say something else, lending credence to this theory.

"It's nothing, cute little kohai," he teased, and I rolled my eyes behind my fox mask. Then I remembered the idea I had not thirty minutes ago and figured there's no better time to ask than now.

"Taicho," I began slowly. "I was practicing my Sensing earlier, and I noticed that all of the Nine Tails' chakra in my Seal is physical energy. I seem to be having a problem with physical energy..."

Just like how the soul and mind generates spiritual energy, the body generates physical energy. Chakra is a mix of the two, and the more perfect the balance, the more stable the chakra. I have two souls and a collective thirty year old mind, but my body, despite seemingly being that of a young adult, only produces the physical energy of a five year old. A hyper and demonic five year old, but a five year old all the same.

In most situations, I would have to ramp up my physical exercise to correct the imbalance; which is what I've been doing. But the situation could also be solved in reverse. If I were to continuously pump pure physical energy into my body, it would grow stronger and my vitality would skyrocket at a pace that far outmatched that of exercise alone. Lucky me, I have a demon formed entirely out of demonic Yang chakra trapped in my gut.

"You didn't touch it, did you?" He asked, voice finding a thread of steel.

"Did I fuck around with the Seal holding the world's most powerful demon at bay from tearing me and my Village to shreds? No, I did not, Taicho," I deadpanned, and the childish assassin before me had the grace to act sheepish and scratch the back of his ridiculous hair. I refrained from mentioning that if this Village had more Seal Masters, specifically one I could Legilimize on the sly, I probably would have fucked around with it. No one needs to know that. "From what little I know, the Seal is supposed to leak more and more Nine Tails chakra into my system over the years as my body matures enough to handle it. But I jumped from five to seventeen, and the Seal didn't get the memo. I was wondering if there would be a way to cook two Rock shinobi with one Grand Fireball, so to speak, and fix my little muscle problem while updating the Seal."

Crow shrugged in that universal way all non-academic shinobi have whenever Fuuinjutsu is mentioned, and wondered off to go do whatever it is torturers do when they're not torturing people. Mouse, who was eavesdropping not at all subtly from a tree that I swear hadn't been there twenty minutes ago, slipped away while Taicho had his back turned. Weasel didn't bother trying to hide his spying, matching Crow's clueless shrug, and went back to his Interceptor Taijutsu katas.

Taicho seemed to get an eager glint to the sole eye not covered by his modified ANBU half-mask. He tried to pass it off as nothing, but wasn't putting much effort into the charade.

"Jiraiya-sama of the Sannin should be arriving at the Village in a few days. Hokage-sama recalled him a week after you vanished when it became clear we might need all the resources we can get in order to find you. He was on the opposite side of the Elemental Nations, which is why it has been taking so long, but when he gets here he likely plans on taking a look at your Seal anyways. We can mention your idea then."

"Ah, I see," I nodded, very carefully not leaking any of my own excitement at the thought of Jiraiya returning to the Village, even if only for a short stay. I had quickly become a fanatic of his series, even if Taicho doesn't give me much time to read. Jiraiya's a strong shinobi too, I guess, but that's not as important. "So that's what has you in such a buzz."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.

I just smirked at him. He was a shinobi, he could probably smell my amusement or something, mask or no mask.

Clearly, he didn't like that. He sniffed. "Get back to training, Fox. Ten more laps."

"Yes, Taicho," I muttered, attempting a Body Flicker and narrowly avoiding a nasty face-plant into one of Mouse's seemingly random trees. Fucking artificial Senju and their spontaneous forests.

I set a heavy pace around Training Field Forty Two once more, ignoring Taicho's snickers and my almost instinctual urge to plot his gruesome murder, and focused once more on the implicit memories of Yamanaka Inoshasa.

Knowledge cannot be directly lifted from the target's mind, only verified or annulled... Personality can be forcibly altered through continuous use of the Artificial Character Subversion Technique... The existence of foreign influence on a specified mind can be determined through use of the basic Mind-Body Switch Technique, as all external stimuli will remain behind with the target's body... There is no known way to verify mental training in a target without catching them in the act of casting a Yamanaka-esque Kinjutsu...

A/N: A week early! Huzzah!

By the by, I've been updating the earlier chapters every couple of days. This is my first story, and I'm still getting used to this whole "writing" thing. There's not really any need to go back and reread them, it's more for my state of mind than anything else, and if I add in something really important I'll mention it up top in the latest upload.

Anyways. Next chapter will be split in two parts - Anko being an asshole and Jiraiya being an asshole. Sounds like fun.

Cheers.