The mission briefing was simple.
"Find Tsunade. Bring her back. She's going to be the Fifth Hokage."
Yamamoto stared at the Third Hokage—who was still very much alive thanks to his intervention—with mild confusion.
"I thought you weren't retiring."
"I wasn't. But after the invasion, the council has... insisted." The old man looked tired but also slightly relieved. "Apparently, nearly dying has consequences. Political ones."
"And you want me to help retrieve her?"
"I want Jiraiya to retrieve her. He's her former teammate and the only person she might actually listen to. Naruto is going because Jiraiya has agreed to train him during the journey. And you..." The Hokage paused. "You're going because I don't trust Jiraiya to stay focused without supervision."
"I'm supervising a Sannin?"
"You're supervising a Sannin who has a gambling addiction, a drinking problem, and a tendency to peek at women's bathhouses. Yes."
"That seems beneath my capabilities."
"Consider it a vacation. You've been training nonstop since the invasion. Your doctors are concerned. I'm concerned. Everyone is concerned."
"I'm fine."
"You set your hospital room on fire. Twice. While sleeping."
"...That was an accident."
"EXACTLY. You need rest. Real rest. And since you refuse to take it voluntarily, I'm sending you on a mission where excessive combat is unlikely." The Hokage smiled thinly. "Think of it as a forced break."
Yamamoto wanted to argue but couldn't find a logical flaw in the reasoning.
"When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. Try not to destroy anything before then."
The night before departure, Yamamoto was training—because of course he was—when someone appeared at his training ground.
Someone he didn't recognize.
She was a woman in her mid-twenties, with purple hair tied up in a spiky ponytail, a mesh bodysuit that left little to the imagination, and a tan trench coat. Her eyes had an intensity that reminded him of a predator, and her smile showed slightly too many teeth.
"So you're him," she said, circling him slowly. "The fire boy. The one who made Orochimaru run away. Twice."
"Can I help you?"
"Maybe. Maybe I can help you." She stopped in front of him, studying his face. "I'm Anko Mitarashi. Special jounin. Former student of that snake bastard."
Yamamoto's interest sharpened. "You trained under Orochimaru?"
"Unfortunately. He gave me this lovely curse mark as a parting gift." She pulled aside her coat collar, revealing a dark seal on her neck. "It's been dormant for years, but after the invasion, after what you DID..." Her eyes gleamed. "I had to meet the person who made my former sensei flee like a coward."
"He's not as impressive as his reputation suggests."
"No? He terrified me for years. He haunted my nightmares. He made me feel small and weak and worthless." Anko stepped closer, invading his personal space. "And you made HIM feel that way. You have no idea how attractive that is."
Yamamoto took a step back. "I'm not sure—"
"Relax, fire boy. I'm not going to jump you. Yet." Her grin widened. "I just wanted to introduce myself. Let you know that I'm watching. That I'm very, VERY interested in what you do next."
"Why?"
"Because you're the opposite of him. He's cold. Calculating. He sees people as tools." She tilted her head. "But you? You burn. You're passion and power and absolute commitment. You're everything he isn't."
"I'm just someone who trains a lot."
"Sure you are." Anko laughed—a sound that was equal parts genuine amusement and something darker. "Keep telling yourself that, fire boy. I'll be here when you figure out the truth."
She disappeared in a swirl of leaves.
Yamamoto stared at the empty space where she had been.
That one is dangerous, Enbukenja observed.
"Very."
Different dangerous than the others, though. The girls who follow you are infatuated. That one is obsessed.
"I noticed."
Are you going to do anything about it?
"I'm leaving on a mission tomorrow. It's not my problem until I get back."
That's not a solution. That's avoidance.
"Same thing."
Morning came.
Yamamoto met Jiraiya and Naruto at the village gates, both of them looking ready for travel. Jiraiya was a large man with long white hair, red facial markings, and the general air of someone who took very little seriously. Naruto was bouncing with excitement, as usual.
"So you're our babysitter," Jiraiya said, eyeing Yamamoto. "The fire kid who scared off my former teammate."
"I prefer 'escort.'"
"I bet you do." The Sannin grinned. "Well, this should be interesting. I've heard a lot about you, Yamamoto. The Hokage seems to think you're something special."
"I'm adequate."
Jiraiya laughed. "Adequate, he says. You created a technique that combines a Sharingan ability with a completely foreign power system, and you call yourself adequate."
"I have room for improvement."
"Don't we all." Jiraiya clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, kid. Let's go find a drunk gambler and convince her to run a village."
Travel with Jiraiya was... an experience.
The Sannin was brilliant—there was no question about that. His knowledge of sealing, sage techniques, and combat strategy was encyclopedic. When he bothered to teach Naruto, the lessons were genuinely valuable.
But he also got distracted. Constantly.
"Jiraiya-sama, we're supposed to be looking for Tsunade."
"I AM looking for Tsunade. I'm also researching." Jiraiya was currently peering over a fence at a women's bathhouse. "Research is important."
"This is voyeurism."
"It's research for my BOOKS. Very important literary work."
Naruto, who had been waiting impatiently, finally erupted. "Pervy Sage, can we PLEASE keep moving?! I want to learn that jutsu you promised!"
"After research."
"You've been 'researching' for TWO HOURS!"
Yamamoto considered setting the bathhouse on fire just to force them to move on.
He decided against it.
Barely.
They found leads in various towns—Tsunade's gambling habits made her easy to track, even if she was hard to catch. She left a trail of debts, angry casino owners, and confused innkeepers across the Land of Fire.
"She's in Tanzaku Town," Jiraiya announced after questioning a particularly traumatized bartender. "Apparently she won big at poker last week."
"She WON?" Naruto asked. "Isn't that good?"
"For Tsunade, winning is a bad omen. She only wins when something terrible is about to happen." Jiraiya's expression was uncharacteristically serious. "We need to hurry."
They were two days from Tanzaku Town when Yamamoto felt them.
Two chakra signatures. Both massive. Both approaching at high speed.
Both familiar.
"Stop," he said quietly.
Jiraiya froze, his hand moving toward a weapon. "What is it?"
"Incoming. Two targets. S-rank."
"You can sense S-rank ninja?"
"I can sense anyone. These two are particularly obvious." Yamamoto drew Kagutsuchi. "One of them is Uchiha Itachi."
Jiraiya's face went pale.
Naruto looked confused. "Itachi? Isn't that Sasuke's brother? The one who—"
"Yes." Yamamoto's eyes shifted to Mangekyou. "Stay behind me. Both of you."
"Kid, I appreciate the confidence, but I'm a Sannin—"
"And Itachi ran away from me last time. If he's back, he either has a death wish or a plan I haven't anticipated. Either way, I'm the one he'll be focused on."
Jiraiya wanted to argue but couldn't deny the logic.
They waited.
Itachi Uchiha emerged from the treeline with his partner—a massive blue-skinned man carrying a sword wrapped in bandages.
Kisame Hoshigaki, Yamamoto recalled. The Monster of the Hidden Mist. Former member of the Seven Swordsmen. S-rank missing ninja with a chakra-eating sword.
Impressive credentials.
Not impressive enough.
"Yamamoto," Itachi said, his voice flat. "I thought I might find you here."
"Itachi. I'm surprised you came back. Our last encounter didn't go well for you."
"I had no intention of fighting you then. Circumstances have changed."
"Have they?"
"The Akatsuki requires the Nine-Tails jinchuuriki." Itachi's Sharingan spun slowly. "You're in our way."
"Yes. I am."
The two Uchiha stared at each other.
Kisame shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, Itachi? Is this the guy? The one you warned me about?"
"Yes."
"The one who made Orochimaru run away?"
"Yes."
"The one with the Susanoo made of fire?"
"Yes."
Kisame was quiet for a moment.
"I'm starting to feel like we should have brought more people."
"The entire organization wouldn't be enough." Itachi's voice was still flat, but there was something underneath it. Something that might have been fear. "That's why we're not here to fight."
Yamamoto raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"
"To talk."
This was unexpected.
Itachi had approached Yamamoto before—during the massacre, briefly—but that had been a confrontation interrupted by mutual recognition of overwhelming power. This was different. This was deliberate.
"Jiraiya. Naruto. Give us space," Yamamoto said.
"Kid, I don't think—"
"If Itachi wanted to fight, he would have attacked already. He wants to talk. I want to listen."
Jiraiya hesitated, then nodded slowly. "We'll be nearby. Shout if you need us."
"I won't."
The Sannin and the jinchuuriki retreated down the road, leaving Yamamoto alone with the two Akatsuki members.
"Kisame," Itachi said quietly. "Wait here."
"You sure? This guy—"
"I'm sure."
The shark-man shrugged and leaned against a tree, clearly unhappy but not willing to argue.
Itachi walked toward Yamamoto, stopping a few feet away.
"You've grown stronger," he observed.
"So I'm told."
"The reports from the invasion were... concerning. A combined Bankai-Susanoo form. Power rivaling the Tailed Beasts." Itachi's expression flickered. "You shouldn't be possible."
"And yet, here I am."
"Yes. Here you are." Itachi was quiet for a moment. "Do you know why I really killed the clan?"
"The coup. The village ordered it. You chose Sasuke over everyone else."
"You know more than you should."
"I know a lot of things I shouldn't."
Itachi studied him with those bloodred eyes.
"Then you know I'm dying."
Yamamoto blinked. "What?"
"Disease. Terminal. I have perhaps five years left, if I'm fortunate." A ghost of a smile crossed Itachi's face. "Long enough to maintain my role. Long enough to ensure Sasuke becomes strong enough to kill me and restore the Uchiha name."
"That's... a terrible plan."
"It's the only plan I have. Or it was." Itachi's gaze intensified. "And then you appeared. An Uchiha I don't understand. A power I can't match. A variable I never anticipated."
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you to protect Sasuke. When I'm gone. When the truth comes out. When everything I've built collapses around him."
Yamamoto was silent.
"I know I have no right to ask," Itachi continued. "I know you owe me nothing. But you care about him—I've watched you train together. You're the closest thing to a brother he has now."
"Besides you."
"I'm the enemy. That's the role I chose. That's the lie I have to maintain." Itachi's voice cracked, just slightly. "But you... you can be what I can't. You can be there for him when I'm gone."
The two Uchiha stood in silence.
"Why should I trust anything you say?" Yamamoto asked finally. "You're Akatsuki. You tried to capture Naruto."
"I won't succeed. I never intended to succeed. My role in Akatsuki is to monitor them, to slow their plans, to protect Konoha from the shadows." Itachi's smile was bitter. "I'm a spy, Yamamoto. I've always been a spy. The only difference now is that someone else knows."
"The Hokage?"
"Knew from the beginning. He's the one who gave me the order."
Yamamoto processed this.
It aligned with what he remembered from the anime. Itachi as tragic hero, not villain. The massacre as necessary evil, not senseless cruelty.
But knowing it intellectually and hearing it directly were different things.
"I'll protect Sasuke," he said finally. "Not because you asked. Because he's my... because he matters to me."
"That's enough." Itachi's tension eased slightly. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. I'm also going to find a way to cure your disease."
Itachi blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Terminal isn't a word I accept. If it can be cured, I'll find a way."
"That's not—"
"I don't care if it's not possible. Lots of things about me aren't possible. I'll add this to the list."
For the first time in years, Itachi looked genuinely surprised.
"You're serious."
"I'm always serious."
"I... don't know what to say."
"Say you'll survive long enough for me to figure it out."
A long pause.
"I'll try," Itachi said quietly.
Kisame watched the exchange from a distance, completely baffled.
He had expected a fight. A massive, destructive battle between two impossibly powerful Uchiha that would leave the landscape scarred and burning.
Instead, they were... talking?
Having a heart-to-heart?
What the actual hell was happening?
"Hey, Itachi," he called out. "Are we fighting or not? Because I'm getting confused over here."
Itachi turned away from Yamamoto. "We're leaving."
"Leaving? But the jinchuuriki—"
"Is not our priority today."
"Since when?!"
"Since now." Itachi began walking toward him. "We'll report that we encountered unexpected resistance and were forced to retreat."
"We haven't encountered any resistance! We've encountered a very civil conversation!"
"The Akatsuki doesn't need to know that."
Kisame stared at his partner.
"You know," he said slowly, "when I joined this organization, I was promised epic battles and the blood of powerful enemies. Not whatever THIS is."
"Life is full of disappointments."
"Apparently."
The two Akatsuki members disappeared into the trees.
Yamamoto watched them go.
That was unexpected, Enbukenja observed.
"Very."
You believe him?
"About being a spy? Yes. About his motives? Mostly. About wanting to protect Sasuke?" Yamamoto's expression softened slightly. "Completely."
And the disease?
"I'll find a way. I always find a way."
That's not how medicine works.
"Then I'll break medicine too."
...I genuinely can't tell if that's determination or insanity.
"Both. Usually both."
Jiraiya and Naruto returned cautiously.
"What happened?" the Sannin demanded. "You talked for ten minutes and then they left? That's not how S-rank confrontations work!"
"It turns out we had mutual interests."
"What kind of mutual interests could you possibly have with Uchiha Itachi?!"
Yamamoto considered how much to reveal.
"Family matters," he said finally. "Nothing that concerns the mission."
Jiraiya clearly wanted to press further but recognized the wall he was hitting.
"Fine. Keep your secrets. But if this comes back to bite us—"
"It won't."
"You're very confident for someone your age."
"I'm very confident for any age. It's one of my defining traits."
Naruto, who had been unusually quiet during the exchange, finally spoke up.
"Yamamoto... Itachi is the guy who killed Sasuke's family, right?"
"Yes."
"And you just... talked to him? Without fighting?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Yamamoto looked at the younger ninja. "Because sometimes fighting isn't the answer. Sometimes understanding is more valuable than victory."
Naruto chewed on this for a moment.
"That's... actually pretty wise."
"I have my moments."
"Not many, but some."
"...Thank you for that, Naruto."
They continued toward Tanzaku Town.
The encounter with Itachi had delayed them, but not significantly. They would still arrive before any terrible omens could catch up with Tsunade's winning streak.
Probably.
Meanwhile, back in Konoha, Anko Mitarashi was doing research.
Extensive research.
Obsessive research.
She had obtained Yamamoto's Academy records (through means that were technically legal but ethically questionable). She had interviewed his former teachers (who were disturbed by her intensity). She had mapped out his training schedule (which involved far too many hours of direct observation for anyone's comfort).
And she had come to a conclusion.
Yamamoto Uchiha was perfect.
Not in the conventional sense. Not handsome in the soft, approachable way that made normal girls swoon. He was perfect in the way a flame was perfect—dangerous and beautiful and utterly consuming.
He had power that eclipsed her former master.
He had dedication that matched her own obsessive nature.
He had eyes that saw through everything, including pretense and weakness and lies.
He was, in short, everything she had ever wanted.
And he would be hers.
Not immediately. Anko was patient when it came to important things. She would wait, watch, learn everything there was to learn about him. And when the moment was right, when he was ready, when he understood that they were destined to be together...
She would claim him.
"Anko?"
The voice interrupted her contemplation. She turned to find Kurenai Yuhi—fellow jounin, occasional drinking partner—looking at her with concern.
"What are you doing?"
"Research."
"That's a wall. Covered in photographs. Of Yamamoto Uchiha."
"Thorough research."
Kurenai stared at the wall.
It was, indeed, covered in photographs. Training photos. Mission photos. Candid shots from various angles. A detailed timeline of his movements over the past month. Notes about his techniques, his abilities, his preferences.
"Anko, this is..."
"Beautiful?"
"I was going to say 'concerning.'"
"Same thing."
Kurenai took a deep breath. "I think you might be developing an unhealthy fixation."
"It's not unhealthy. It's destiny." Anko's smile was dreamy and slightly unhinged. "He's going to be mine, Kurenai. He just doesn't know it yet."
"Does HE get a say in this?"
"Eventually. Once he understands."
"Understands what?"
"That we're perfect for each other. That I'm the only one who can truly appreciate what he is. That all those other girls—the pink one, the weapons one, the blonde one, the Sand one—they don't understand him like I do."
Kurenai was quiet for a moment.
"I'm going to recommend you for psychological evaluation."
"That's fine. They can't prove anything."
"They don't have to prove anything to be worried!"
Anko waved dismissively. "It's fine, Kurenai. I'm fine. Everything is fine."
She went back to studying the wall.
Kurenai went to find a very strong drink.
Tanzaku Town was exactly what Yamamoto expected.
Crowded. Loud. Full of gambling establishments and bars and the kind of entertainment that attracted people with too much money and too little sense.
Finding Tsunade was almost disappointingly easy. She was in the most expensive casino in town, surrounded by empty sake bottles and piles of chips that represented her recent winning streak.
"Tsunade-hime," Jiraiya said, approaching with false casualness. "Fancy meeting you here."
The blonde woman—who looked thirty but was actually in her fifties—looked up with immediate suspicion.
"Jiraiya. What do you want?"
"Can't I just visit an old friend?"
"No. You only show up when you want something." Her eyes narrowed. "What is it this time?"
"The village needs you. As Hokage."
Tsunade laughed—a harsh, bitter sound.
"Absolutely not."
"Tsunade—"
"I said no. Being Hokage means sitting in an office, dealing with politics, watching people you care about die in wars started by idiots." She took a long drink of sake. "I'm done with that. Find someone else."
"There is no one else. You're the only Sannin who isn't me, and I'm definitely not qualified."
"What about Orochimaru?"
The temperature in the room dropped.
"Orochimaru attacked the village last month," Yamamoto said quietly. "He tried to kill the Third Hokage. He's not an option."
Tsunade's eyes moved to him for the first time.
"And who are you?"
"Uchiha Yamamoto. The one who stopped him."
"Stopped him? Orochimaru doesn't stop."
"He does for me."
Something shifted in Tsunade's expression. Interest, maybe. Or concern.
"You're the fire kid. The one everyone's been talking about."
"Among other things."
"They say you made him run away. Twice."
"Accurate."
Tsunade studied him for a long moment.
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"And you're already scaring Sannin?"
"I started training early."
Despite herself, Tsunade's lips twitched toward a smile.
"I like you, kid. You've got confidence." The smile faded. "But my answer is still no. The village took everything from me. My brother. My lover. My faith. I'm not going back just to watch more people I care about die."
"What if the people you care about don't have to die?"
"That's not how it works."
"It's how I work." Yamamoto met her eyes directly. "I don't accept 'impossible.' I don't accept 'that's just how it is.' I push until things change."
"Spoken like someone who hasn't lost enough yet."
"I've lost plenty. I just refuse to let loss define me."
The two stared at each other.
"You're stubborn," Tsunade observed.
"Extremely."
"And probably insane."
"Probably."
"And you think you can just... change things through sheer force of will?"
"I've done it before. I'll do it again."
Tsunade was quiet for a long time.
"Let me think about it," she said finally. "Give me a week."
"You'll have a week. But know this—" Yamamoto leaned forward slightly "—the village isn't just asking you to come back. It's offering you a chance to protect people instead of running from them. That's not a burden. That's a gift."
He stood up and walked away.
Jiraiya watched him go with something approaching awe.
"Did you just... convince her to consider it?"
"I gave her something to think about. The rest is up to her."
"I've been trying to get through to her for years. You did it in five minutes."
"Maybe I'm just better at talking."
"Or maybe you're just terrifying enough that she actually listened."
"Either way, same result."
The week passed.
Tsunade considered. Wavered. Argued with Shizune (her assistant). Drank more sake. Considered again.
And in the end, she said yes.
"Not because of you," she told Yamamoto as they prepared to return to Konoha. "Because the village needs stability. Because someone has to clean up after the invasion. Because..." She trailed off.
"Because you care more than you want to admit?"
"Shut up."
"Yes, Hokage-sama."
"I'm not Hokage yet."
"You will be."
Tsunade grumbled but didn't argue.
They returned to Konoha in triumph.
Tsunade was installed as Fifth Hokage with appropriate ceremony. The village celebrated. Things began to return to normal.
And Anko Mitarashi was waiting.
Yamamoto sensed her before he saw her.
She was in his training ground. Sitting on the rock where he usually meditated. Wearing a smile that made him distinctly uncomfortable.
"Welcome back, fire boy."
"Anko-san. Why are you in my training ground?"
"I wanted to be the first to greet you." Her smile widened. "I missed you."
"We've spoken once."
"Twice, actually. I watched your promotion ceremony."
"That doesn't count as speaking."
"It counts as connection." She stood up, moving toward him with predatory grace. "I've been thinking about you while you were gone. About us."
"There is no 'us.'"
"Not yet." She was very close now, close enough that he could see the intensity burning in her eyes. "But there will be. We're destined, Yamamoto. Two people who understand what it means to be defined by fire."
"I'm defined by training. And occasional combat."
"Same thing." Her hand reached up, touching his face. "You've never felt truly connected to anyone, have you? Always alone. Always pushing. Always reaching for something just out of grasp."
Yamamoto didn't respond, but something in his expression must have confirmed her words.
"I know that feeling," Anko continued softly. "I've lived it. The isolation. The obsession. The desperate need to be more than what you were."
"We're not the same."
"No. We're not the same. We're complementary. Your fire and my poison. Your intensity and my chaos." Her smile turned gentle, almost tender. "We could be perfect together."
"Anko-san—"
"Don't answer yet." She stepped back, releasing him. "Think about it. Think about everything you've been missing. And when you're ready..." Her gentle expression shifted back to something more possessive. "I'll be waiting."
She disappeared.
Yamamoto stood alone in his training ground, feeling more confused than he had in years.
That one is definitely dangerous, Enbukenja observed.
"You said that before."
It bears repeating. The others want your attention. She wants your soul.
"That's... dramatic."
Is it wrong?
Yamamoto considered this.
"No," he admitted. "No, it's not wrong."
What are you going to do?
"I don't know. This isn't something I can solve with fire."
Maybe not. But you'll have to solve it eventually.
"I know." Yamamoto sat down on his meditation rock. "I know."
The next few days were complicated.
Yamamoto tried to resume his normal routine—training, meditation, occasional interactions with the people he cared about—but Anko's presence lingered at the edges of everything.
She was always there.
Watching from rooftops. Appearing at restaurants where he happened to be eating. Showing up at training grounds just as he was leaving.
She never pushed. Never confronted. Just... observed.
It was unnerving.
"You have a stalker," Sasuke observed during one of their meditation sessions.
"I'm aware."
"The purple-haired woman. I've seen her watching you."
"Anko Mitarashi. She's... interested."
"That's one word for it."
Yamamoto sighed. "Do you have any advice?"
"Me? I'm socially incompetent. Everyone knows that." Sasuke's lip twitched toward a smirk. "But if I had to guess... talk to her. Set boundaries. Make clear what you want."
"I don't know what I want."
"Then figure that out first."
It was, annoyingly, good advice.
Yamamoto found Anko at her favorite dango shop.
She looked up as he approached, her expression shifting from surprise to delight.
"Fire boy. You came to me."
"We need to talk."
"Yes. We do." She gestured to the seat across from her. "Sit."
He sat.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
"You're intense," Yamamoto said finally.
"So are you."
"I don't know how to handle intensity directed at me."
"Neither did I, until I met you." Anko leaned forward. "Do you know what you are to me, Yamamoto? You're hope. You're proof that power can overcome the past. That being marked by a monster doesn't have to define your future."
"I'm not a symbol."
"No. You're not. You're a person." Her voice softened. "A person I want to know. Really know. Not the legend. Not the fire god. Just... you."
Yamamoto was quiet.
"I don't know how to do relationships," he admitted. "I spent my entire life training. I never learned how to... connect. Not really."
"Neither did I. We can learn together."
"What if we're not compatible?"
"Then we'll find out. But we won't know unless we try." Anko reached across the table, taking his hand. "Give me a chance, Yamamoto. Just one chance. If it doesn't work, I'll back off. I promise."
He looked at her hand on his.
He thought about the other girls—Sakura, Tenten, Ino, Temari. All of them wanting something from him that he didn't understand how to give.
But Anko was different.
Anko wasn't asking him to be gentle or romantic or any of the things he wasn't.
She was asking him to be himself.
To be understood.
"One chance," he said slowly. "We'll see how it goes."
Anko's smile was blinding.
"That's all I ask, fire boy. That's all I ask."
When word got out that Yamamoto was "seeing" Anko Mitarashi, the reactions were... varied.
Sakura was devastated. "But—but I was training so hard—I thought—"
Tenten was analytical. "An older woman with combat experience and a similar obsessive personality. I can see the logic, even if I don't agree with it."
Ino was outraged. "HER?! She's like TEN YEARS older than him!"
Temari, in a letter from Sand, expressed "concern about his judgment" and "hope that this decision could be reconsidered."
And Naruto...
"Wait, you have a GIRLFRIEND?!" He stared at Yamamoto in shock. "Since when do you do anything besides train?!"
"Since apparently now."
"Is she nice?"
"She's... intense."
"That doesn't sound like nice."
"It's not. But it might be better than nice."
Naruto considered this.
"As long as you're happy, I guess."
"I don't know if I'm happy. But I'm trying something new. That's probably progress."
"Yeah! Progress is good!" Naruto grinned. "Just don't let the girlfriend thing interfere with training. You're still the coolest person I know, and I need you to stay that way."
"The training won't stop."
"Good. Now come on—I learned a new jutsu and I want to show you!"
Some things, at least, never changed.
End of Chapter 7