Chapter 1


The morning sun crested slowly over the horizon, casting the four Great Stone Faces of the founding Hokage in velvet shadow. Leaning a shoulder against the frame of the large picture window, Soriya appreciated the view while sipping contentedly from a mug of hot coffee. Finally, after several uncomfortable moments of trying to squint past the increasing glare, the redhead relinquished the struggle. Gray eyes turned inward to the other occupants of the warm, cheery kitchen.

Beside her, Iori sat in his wooden high chair, attempting to eat cereal and milk with a spoon. With amusement, she saw that he managed the rice puffs well enough, but the milk consistently eluded him, dripping messily down the child's chin to decorate the front of his shirt.

“Is it good?” she asked, smiling.

Iori nodded, mouth full. His curly auburn mop needed a trim, she noted idly. He was the spitting image of his father: all wild hair, good cheekbones, and straight nose with a faint smattering of freckles. When he wasn't having a toddler meltdown, he also had the same open, smiling expression. But the eyes... Those deep ebony pools were clearly his mother's. Soriya could already picture the girls drooling over him when he got older.

He's getting so big...

She sighed inwardly. She could hardly believe he'd be three in another couple of months!

She glanced over at his younger sister, strapped into a flowered sling worn across her mother's body. Sumiko gurgled happily, chubby fists waving in the air, while Izumi bustled around the kitchen preparing breakfast. The delicious smell of grilled fish and eggs filled the room. Soriya's gaze softened.

“Here, let me take her a minute,” she offered, setting her mostly-finished beverage aside. “I haven't gotten in my spoiling today.”

Yori, clad in a dark t-shirt and work overalls, paused in the middle of buttering a piece of wheat toast. “It's early yet,” he laughed. “I'm sure you'll find the time.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, then rose to take the baby from Izumi's outstretched hands. Not quite three months old, the infant smiled as Soriya reached for her.

“That's my girl,” the kunoichi crooned, cuddling the child in her arms. Inhaling the sweet baby scent, she rubbed her nose against the fine, dark hair. Predictably, long red tresses drifted forward into the range of tiny fists. Wincing slightly at Sumiko's enthusiastic tugging, Soriya endeavored to untangle the strands from curious fingers. An amused voice sounded behind her.

“Well, well...isn't this a pretty picture?”

Letting the side door fall closed behind him, Kakashi entered the kitchen. Dressed in his usual outfit of midnight blue trousers, shirt, mask, and olive green vest, the shinobi's visible eye winked at Soriya. “Need some help?”

“Please,” she chuckled, turning so he could untangle the infant's hands from her hair. “You'd think I'd know by now to tie it all back. She's just fascinated by it.”

“Can't say I blame her,” he murmured, giving Soriya a lazy look. Lightly, his fingertips traced a path from her collarbone down to the shoulder blade revealed by the black halter top she wore. Her breath caught and she looked up at him. He grinned, knowing the effect he had on her.

Blushing slightly, she asked, “Want some coffee? Izumi makes the good stuff.”

“No, thanks. Some of us don't need it to get going in the morning. I've been up for a couple of hours already.” He arched a silver brow at her.

Yori laughed. “Soriya's never been a much of an early bird, that's for sure. I'm amazed she's managed to drag herself over here at the crack of dawn every day.”

She shrugged good-naturedly. “I want to see the kids when they're awake. Ibiki-sensei's been driving us hard these last few weeks, getting us ready for the summit. So, if I want to see you at all, morning's the only time. Once the summit starts, my hours'll be erratic. And probably late. So, for now, I'll deal.” She smiled at Izumi. “As long as there's coffee to be had.”

The petite brunette grinned. “Only the good stuff here.”

Just then, the familiar cry of a falcon shattered the stillness of the peaceful morning. Kakashi looked at Soriya.

“I came to get you. We've been summoned,” he said, mock-dramatically.

She sighed, kissing Sumiko on the forehead. Reluctantly, she handed the baby back to her mother.

“Duty calls, little one. I'll see you later.” She ruffled Iori's hair. “Be good for your mom, kiddo.”

“'Kay, Aunt Suki,” Iori responded gamely.

“Don't you want some breakfast? You could take it with you,” Izumi offered.

“No thanks. Coffee and toast are enough for me. I don't want to be too full, in case I have to spar with Takeo and Yuichigo later.”

Yori snorted. “Yeah, well, I wish those two would be more careful with you. I'm tired of seeing you come home all beaten up.”

Soriya waved a hand dismissively. “The eye last time was my fault. I underestimated Yuichigo's reach and practically walked right into his fist.” She frowned. “And if he apologizes one more time, I'm going to slug him. It's driving me crazy!” She shook her head in mild frustration, then shrugged. “Takeo's been behaving himself. Now he mostly goes for body blows.” She winced, rubbing her side in remembered pain. “I think I almost prefer getting hit in the face. Broken ribs hurt.”

“Whatever. I still don't like it,” Yori grimaced. He appealed to the Copy Ninja, “How can you stand watching them beat on her like that?”

Kakashi shrugged. “We-ell, I generally make it a point to be elsewhere on sparring days. I do have other assignments, after all. But, if it makes you feel better, Takeo and Yuichigo get their fair share of pain as well. It's not always the two of them ganging up on her. Sometimes they'll trade off who gets double-teamed, just to keep things interesting. And sometimes, the exercises are cooperative in nature. Like the time all three of them went up against Ibiki Morino.” He winked. “Now that was something to see. Switching things up occasionally is good for overall teamwork and flexibility. Besides, are you going to tell her she's too delicate to fight with the big boys?” His eyebrow rose in mock terror. “You're a braver man than me.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Soriya poked his arm. She started slightly as the falcon circling above the house cried again. “Just how long has it been since the Hokage summoned us?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, I don't know...” Kakashi rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I sort of lost track of time coming over here and--”

Soriya let out an exasperated sigh. “Never mind. I should know better than to even ask. Let's get going, already. I don't want the Hokage mad at me for making her wait.”

“Okay, okay,” the Copy Ninja acceded graciously, gesturing, “After you.” He waited for Soriya to cast her translocation jutsu. She arched an eyebrow knowingly.

“Oh no, I insist. After you.”

He sighed. “Spoilsport.”

She chuckled, tossing the amused occupants of the kitchen a wave, before following his jutsu with her own.



The Fifth Hokage awaited the arrival of her jonin with slightly less than her usual patience. Which is to say, the amber-eyed blond was quite grumpy by the time Kakashi and Soriya crossed the threshold of the Jonin Audience Chamber. Ibiki Morino, grim as always, waited impassively, hands hidden in the pockets of his long, black overcoat. Takeo Matsumoto and Yuichigo Nakamura were also present, pale ceramic ANBU masks pushed up to reveal their faces. By unspoken agreement, they stood silently, doing their best to avoid drawing the Hokage's notice, and therefore, her ire. With the summit in just one week's time, Tsunade's tongue was even sharper than usual.

Yuichigo exhaled in audible relief as the Copy Ninja and kunoichi made their way down the richly carpeted aisle to stand before the Hokage's white-draped table. Takeo rolled his eyes.

“Nice of you to join us, Soriya.”

She shot him a wry grin, then offered a slight bow to the Hokage. “Sorry we're late.”

Tsunade directed a suspicious glance toward the Copy Ninja, who returned her gaze innocently. She snorted. “Well, now that we're all here, let us discuss the status of preparations for next week's summit.” She turned to Morino. “Report.”

Stepping forward, the Head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit intoned, “The training goes well, Hokage. Soriya is now able to glean surface thoughts from a conscious target without alerting them to the mental intrusion eighty-five percent of the time.”

“The other fifteen percent?” Tsunade asked.

“My fault, I'm afraid,” Kakashi shrugged sheepishly. “Lately, I always seem to know when she's attempting to read my mind, no matter how careful she is. I've gotten used to the 'feel' of it, I guess. Sorry to skew the test results. My understanding is they'd've been perfect, otherwise.”

The Hokage glanced at Ibiki. He lifted a shoulder. “It is possible due to their close, prolonged proximity, I suppose. Or it may be that Kakashi's familiarity with the hypnotic aspect of the Sharingan enables him to recognize such tactics more readily. Soriya has had no difficulty with other subjects, even when we tested her against random civilians in the marketplace and at local bars.”

Soriya chimed in, “Tatsuo Saigo waters his sake, just so you know.”

“I knew that already,” the Hokage replied dryly. “What of deeper thoughts?”

Ibiki frowned and made a waffling motion with his hand. “Not so easy to measure. Testing in this area has been...difficult.” He refrained from tossing Soriya a reproachful look. She shook her head in frustration.

“I'm sorry, Ibiki-sensei. Accessing deeper memories requires more time than a brief handshake or casual touch allows. And lately, when I use my gift among a large group of people, I've been getting a lot of extra psychic “noise”. Like static interference on a radio. It makes it difficult to focus. The test at the market gave me a migraine that lasted the rest of the day. With nausea.” She grimaced. “If I'm to use my gift during the summit I've got to find a way to filter out the background noise. It's going to be problematic, otherwise.”

“You didn't have as much trouble when we went to Ikeyone's,” Takeo pointed out. “Maybe you just need to drink more.”

“That's true,” Soriya conceded thoughtfully. “I did have a drink or two while I was there. It dulled the peripheral noise enough so that I was able to concentrate on my targets. But that's hardly a dependable solution. I can't be drinking all evening. My tolerance for alcohol isn't exactly high. It's bound to affect my control.”

“Don't I know it,” Takeo snorted wryly. Soriya glanced at him sharply, but the man's face had already smoothed to a neutral expression that gave nothing away.

Tsunade made a motion with her hand. “Do what you need to, so long as you can function. The summit only lasts four days. Use your judgment. There should be numerous opportunities to access deeper memories during the course of it. In fact, we already have some things in mind.” Shrewd amber eyes turned to Ibiki. “You know what to do. See that she is dressed and equipped accordingly.”

“Hokage.” He bowed at the neck.

“Takeo. Yuichigo.” The Hokage addressed the two ANBU operatives. “Your task will be to escort Soriya at all times, unless she's with Kakashi or Ibiki. Is that understood? You'll act as bodyguards to keep the riffraff off of her. In addition, you'll serve as liaisons between Soriya and the diplomats. We're interested in one man in particular.” She looked at the Copy Ninja. “You will have heard of him. His name is Omatsu Toshida.”

She watched curiously as the elite jonin's visible eye flicked to Soriya. He'd caught the kunoichi's sudden start.

“You know him?” he asked.

Impenetrable gray eyes shifted from the pigtailed woman behind the table to the inquisitive shinobi. Choosing her words carefully, Soriya replied, “I met him five years ago, on assignment in the Land of Tea.” She paused. “He may not even remember me,” she confessed, “It's been a long time.”

Her slight hesitation captured the Copy Ninja's attention. He said nothing, deceptively mild gaze lingering on her face.

Interesting, Tsunade thought. She cut in smoothly, “Be that as it may, you will reestablish contact, using the same cover as before.” For the benefit of the others, she added, “Toshida is a jonin from the Hidden Grass Village. A known arms dealer and smuggler, he has fingers in many pies. He also holds the favor of the Grass King, and often acts on his behalf--unofficially, of course--at functions such as these. A man who knows many things, he's been useful to us in the past.” The Hokage's eyes narrowed.

“Some disturbing rumors have reached me about our 'friends' from the Land of Lightning. The Raikage from the Village Hidden in the Clouds has declined our invitation to attend the summit. He's opted to send a delegation of cloud ninja in his stead. As you all know, relations between our two nations have been strained ever since the signing of the peace treaty fourteen years ago.” She did not elaborate further. Every ninja present remembered the attempted kidnapping of three-year-old Hinata Hyuga.

Hiashi Hyuga, the girl's father and Head of the Clan, had caught and killed the would-be kidnapper, who turned out to be none other than the lead envoy of the cloud ninja delegation. The Land of Lightning's leadership cried foul, accusing the Leaf Village of violating the newly signed treaty alliance. They steadfastly refused to acknowledge the attempted abduction had even taken place. In restitution, they demanded nothing less than the body of Hiashi Hyuga.

In order to spare the village the devastation and loss of life of another covert ninja war, Hiashi's twin brother, Hizashi, had volunteered to take his brother's place. His willing and heroic sacrifice thwarted the cloud ninja in their ultimate goal: obtaining the secret of the Byakuygan--the Hyuga clan's Kekkei Genkai. As a member of one of the branch families rather than of the main household, Hizashi bore the Curse Mark Seal on his forehead. Thus, even upon his death, Hizashi's body could not yield the secrets of the Byakuygan. Even so, Hiashi Hyuga had not forgiven the Land of Lightning or the cloud ninja for the loss of his twin. And as the leader of one of the most powerful clans in Leaf Village, his words carried considerable weight.

As is only right, thought Tsunade. Still, it complicated matters. Aloud, she added, “Unfortunately, all I have to go on are rumors. Nothing concrete.

“We've also noted a recent increase in activity along our shared northwestern border with the Land of Rain. Squads of rain ninja have been observed crossing northward into and, we suspect, beyond the Land of Grass. We don't know if this has anything to do with the cloud ninja, however.

“Your mission is to discover and defuse any plots being hatched against us. Discreetly, if at all possible.” She frowned. “There are many who would wish to see us fail in our duties as hosts to some of the most powerful leaders in the land. We must not allow this.” She looked each shinobi in the eye.

“Several requests have already come in to the village for standard escort/protection duty. Fortuitously, one of these is from Omatsu Toshida. He requests an escort from the border of the Land of Grass to the summit. Though it's out of the way, he wishes to make a side trip to the Land of Tea to visit Boss Jirocho Wasabi. Kakashi, I want you, Sasuke, and Sakura to take Toshida to his meeting with Jirocho, then ensure he gets here safely. You leave tomorrow.”

He nodded, then asked, “What of Naruto?”

“I need him for another assignment, so you'll be just a three-man squad for this. It should be a simple B-rank escort mission. I'd send Sasuke and Sakura alone, except that I want your evaluation of Toshida. He may well be the key to discovering what the cloud and rain Ninja are up to.” Confident that the Copy Ninja grasped the situation, she turned to Ibiki Morino.

“Ibiki, I'll leave it to you to explain Soriya's cover. Carry on with the training we discussed earlier.” She surveyed the room. “Any questions?” When none were forthcoming, she flipped a hand, negligently tossing back a long, blond pigtail.

“Dismissed.”

Bowing as one, the group of jonin moved to leave. The redheaded kunoichi stared at the Hokage a moment, then slowly turned to follow the others.

“Soriya. A moment, please,” the Hokage requested.

The kunoichi froze. Gray eyes locked with the Copy Ninja's dark one. Almost to the door, he'd turned back to wait for her. His raised eyebrow asked the unvoiced question.

“Go on,” she told him, with a slight shake of her head. “I'll catch up in a minute.”

He looked past her to the green-jacketed woman at the table. After a moment, he nodded. “I'll be outside.” Crossing the threshold, he pulled the sliding door closed behind him.

Soriya inhaled a breath, held it, then exhaled before turning to face the Hokage. She was surprised to see concern in the older woman's amber eyes.

“Soriya...I've reviewed the old mission reports. Will you be able to do this? I know...it cannot be easy.”

The kunoichi stood perfectly still, red hair framing her pale face. Silently, Tsunade tried to read the expression in the smoky eyes. Failed.

Quietly, Soriya replied, “Hokage, I know you wouldn't ask this of me for a small matter. But, to become the Crimson Rose again...” She swallowed. “I just don't know how far I can take this. I'm not the same person I was five years ago. At least,” she laughed half-heartedly, “I'm trying hard not to be.”

Tsunade nodded in agreement. “You've changed.” Before the kunoichi could reply, she added soothingly, “I think it a good thing, Soriya. And I want you to know: I trust you. I know you will do your best to protect our village. So I'm not worried. Do what you can, and only what you can. It will be enough.”

Mutely, Soriya stared at the blond woman. Her leader. The Fifth Hokage.

She trusts me.

The kunoichi knew that hadn't been the case a mere three months ago.

Her eyes stung with the glint of unshed tears. Offering a deep bow, she let long hair cascade forward, hiding the visible swell of emotion her voice couldn't quite disguise.

“Hokage.”

Tsunade gazed at the curve of the woman's spine. “Dismissed,” she murmured softly.


“So, what'd the old dragon lady want?” Takeo asked as Soriya joined the three jonin loitering outside the gates of the Hokage's Tower. He'd lowered the tiger mask and his voice echoed oddly from behind the painted oval guise.

The kunoichi shot him a teasing grin. “Oh, she just wanted to apologize for sticking me with you as a bodyguard. Said our strength was stretched too thinly to do any better, but maybe having Yuichigo along could make up for it.”

Takeo gasped, miming a mortal blow to the heart. Soriya licked her finger, drawing an imaginary “one” in the air.

The rat-masked brunette ran a hand through short, spiky hair. “Hey, leave me out of your bickering, you two.” Yawning so widely his jaw popped, the shinobi added, “Besides, it's way too early in the morning for this.”

“At Akina's again last night, were you?” Soriya smiled a knowing smile. “That makes five times over the last week and a half. She's gonna wear you out, you're not careful.”

“Yeah, well, at least I still managed to be on time this morning,” the younger shinobi pointed out. “You've been late twice in the last week. Picking up Kakashi's bad habits, eh?” He glanced over at the Copy Ninja, who was lounging casually against the eight-meter-high stone gate surrounding the Hokage's Tower. He'd taken out his well-worn copy of Make-Out Paradise and was studiously pretending to ignore them.

“Hmm?” He looked up from his book. “Did you say something? Sorry, I wasn't listening.”

Soriya rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, right. See, I told you they'd think it was all your fault.”

“Well,” the Copy Ninja conceded, “I have to admit that it was my fault you missed that early morning appointment with the dressmaker last week. However,” he observed blandly, “I don't recall hearing any complaints at the time.”

“Too much information!” Takeo clapped a hand over his ears dramatically. Yuichigo laughed. Flushing, Soriya abruptly changed the subject.

“So, where'd Ibiki-sensei go, anyway?”

“He said he had something to take care of, and that you should stop by Madame Yuki's this morning for the final fittings,” Yuichigo answered. “He'll meet up with us after lunch. He said no hand-to-hand today.”

“Guess it's getting too close to the summit for Enya to be healing your bruises,” Takeo smirked at her.

“Ha ha,” she replied, tossing him a wry grin. “Be nice, or you'll regret it next time I get ahold of you.”

“You should be so lucky,” he retorted. “Anyway, I can hardly wait to see what our beloved taskmaster,”--this was said derisively--“has in store. He's got something new for us this afternoon, he said.” He eyed the Copy Ninja pointedly. “So don't go making her late again, okay?”

Before Soriya could punch the dark-haired shinobi in the shoulder, he vanished in a swirl of leaves and wind. Shrugging apologetically, Yuichigo nodded at the two jonin, then followed Takeo a moment later.

“Huh. I wonder what Ibiki-sensei has in mind?” Soriya mused, frowning slightly. She didn't like surprises. At least, not in this context. They almost never boded well for her. Shaking her head in mild annoyance, the kunoichi began walking south, toward the center of town where Madame Yuki's dress shop was located.

Straightening from his relaxed slouch against the stone gate, Kakashi fell into step beside her, holding his book out in front of him as he walked. He'd stayed mostly silent during the banter with her teammates, preferring to observe the way the redhead's black halter top and skirt hugged her generous curves. Briefly, he wondered how she got away without wearing a bra, then decided it must have something to do with the way the straps crossed elaborately in the garment's front. Despite his best efforts (which, admittedly, were not very great--at least in this regard) his gaze kept returning to the large teardrop-shaped opening accentuating the valley of her cleavage. Unfortunately, she noticed.

“Are you looking at my chest while pretending to read?” she asked, eyebrows raised in mock indignation.

Brazenly, his dark eye wandered up to her face. He smiled. “Is this a trick question?” As her eyebrows rose even higher, he added, “If you don't want me to look, you should cover up more.”

“Oh yeah,” she snorted, laughing. “Like that'd stop you.”

Smoothly returning his book to its pouch, Kakashi stopped in the middle of the mostly vacant street. Reaching out a hand, he wound a thick strand of crimson hair around his finger, tugging it lightly. “True,” he chuckled, stepping closer to her. “But be honest.” His voice lowered as he bent his head to her upturned face. “You like me to look.” He was rewarded by the sudden darkening of her gray eyes.

In a somewhat breathy voice, she warned, “Stop right there, you. I don't want to be late twice in one day, or I'll never hear the end of it from those jokers.”

“Ah, your lips say no, but your eyes say... Well, it's not something I can repeat out here in a public street, that's certain.”

Closing those too-expressive eyes, Soriya took a deep breath, which had the added effect of drawing his gaze downward once more. After a moment, she shook herself, groaning, “Will you just get out of here, before I--”

Pulling her close, he pressed cloth-covered lips to her mouth, stealing the speech and her breath. “I'll come find you later,” he promised huskily.

Stepping back, he released her so abruptly, she stumbled. The puff of smoke that surrounded him wasn't quite thick enough to disguise the merriment in his dark eye as he disappeared. Raising a slightly shaky hand to her lips, the kunoichi blew out a breath.

Damn that man!

Before she could begin to formulate a plan for appropriate retribution, a wave of anger crashed over her, making her stagger in the middle of the street. The crushing emotion battered the telepath's mental barriers and she raised a hand futilely in warding. Seeing her distress, a kindly merchant on a morning errand stopped to take her elbow.

“Are you all right, Miss?” His round face peered at her anxiously.

Disoriented, but otherwise unharmed, Soriya smiled weakly, trying to concentrate. The intense hatred she'd sensed vanished abruptly. Pulling away from the plump man's well-meaning, but distracting grasp, Soriya murmured hurriedly, “Yes, thank you. Just a bit light-headed. That'll teach me to skip breakfast,” she added flippantly. Not entirely reassured, but too polite to argue, the merchant nodded and went on his way.

Heart pounding, Soriya directed a searching gaze to the surrounding buildings. Where had it come from? Dilated eyes scanned the immediate vicinity. Though there were not yet many people on the street, the telepath found it difficult to concentrate.

She gritted her teeth in frustration. She'd lost it—no, wait! The feeling had come from—there!

Speeding toward the market district, Soriya quickly wended her way between the customers and sellers' carts. Though it was early, the vendors were in full swing, selling baked goods, fruits, vegetables, and fish. With this many people laughing, talking, and bargaining, it was difficult to home in on the emotions of a single person. In vain, the telepath scrutinized the multitude of faces occupied in their daily activities. Nowhere did she sense the volatile rage from moments ago.

“Huh.” That's twice now...

Ten days ago, she'd experienced a similar feeling, only it had been preceded by a shocked surprise. She'd been alone at the time, on her way home from the Ichiraku ramen shop after a long day's training. Kakashi had been away from the village on a mission. Not feeling fit for Yori and Izumi's company, (she'd gotten the black eye from Yuichigo that day) but not particularly relishing the idea of eating alone, she'd stopped for a quick bite. The shop's owner and his daughter were always friendly and welcoming.

However, since that day, she'd had the unsettling impression she was being watched. Not all the time, and nothing she could really put her finger on--just a vague uneasiness that came and went. It wasn't ANBU. Of that, she was certain. The Hokage had withdrawn all such surveillance months ago, at Kakashi's request.

No. This was something else.

But each time she opened her mind to search, she found nothing useful. The rage she'd only experienced that one time, before today. In fact, she'd almost decided it hadn't been directed towards her at all. Perhaps she'd simply picked up on the turbulent emotions of someone else's quarrel. The feelings of being watched had also occurred only within the confines of the village proper--never when she was at home or Yori's house. Either way, now she'd have to mention it to Ibiki-sensei.

Once is happenstance, twice could be a coincidence, but...

Her gut told her otherwise.

But first, I have an appointment to keep.

After casting one last, scrutinizing glance around the area, Soriya turned, heading back the way she'd come. Madame Yuki's was only a few blocks from the market district, but she didn't want to anger the temperamental seamstress by being late. Again. Sighing in vexation, the kunoichi hurried her steps onward.