~ Orochimaru ~
The trek back to the base was a haze of pain and frustration.
Orochimaru leaned heavily against the damp cavern wall as the final seal closed behind him, ensuring no unwanted guests followed. His hand came away from his lips stained with blood again, but he only chuckled, the sound low and rattling in his chest.
"Oh, but how magnificent…" he whispered to no one, his voice laced with a feverish excitement.
Despite his injuries—despite the humiliation of being forced into retreat—he could not help but feel obsessed.
That boy—no, that man, barely more than a boy in truth—was unlike anything he had ever seen.
Who was he?
How did he wield the elements themselves as if they were extensions of his body? Even he, Orochimaru, genius of the Sannin, had spent a lifetime dissecting the arts of ninjutsu, chakra control, seals, forbidden techniques... and still, he could not dream of what that boy had done as easily as breathing.
Orochimaru closed his eyes, replaying the encounter over and over again in his mind.
The way the rain had stopped midair at a mere whim. The way each droplet had hardened into ice, becoming deadly shards. The effortless command over water dragons not his own, tearing apart their chakra and reshaping them. Earth and stone bending beneath his will. Fire roaring to life from his bare hands, not through seals but through sheer force.
And the lightning— gods, that lightning. Summoned down from the heavens with a snap of his will.
It was beautiful.
He coughed again, a racking shudder, blood splattering on the stone floor at his feet. He lifted his hand and studied the crimson stain with clinical detachment.
The boy had injured him. Truly injured him.
Orochimaru almost pouted, licking the blood from his palm absently. That was what he got, he supposed, for letting the boy show his skills before taking a blood sample. How reckless of him.
His musings were interrupted by the stomping footsteps of Sasori and Kakuzu entering the base. The puppeteer was ranting already, voice shrill with fury.
"My masterpiece! Destroyed! That slug bitch smashed my Hiruko into pieces!" Sasori was practically vibrating with rage.
Orochimaru barely spared him a glance. Let the child rage, he thought idly.
It was Kakuzu that caught his interest, the stitched man standing silent, contemplative, his gaze assessing.
Orochimaru was about to speak, to pose his question, when the air shifted—Konan and Nagato entered, followed by the ever-grating presence of Tobi.
Nagato's sharp gaze pierced through him.
"Orochimaru," Nagato said, voice level but thrumming with displeasure, "why did you bring violence to our gates?"
Orochimaru offered a slow, lazy smile, his tongue flickering briefly between his lips. "My, my, such accusations. I would never." His voice dripped sarcasm.
Konan's cold stare made it clear they weren't amused.
Before he could craft a more elaborate lie, Tobi's irritating, sing-song voice cut in.
"What did the Slug Princess want, eh? Come all this way just to chat with little Orochi-chan?" Tobi laughed, spinning in place like a fool.
Orochimaru's eye twitched.
He sighed dramatically, feigning weariness. "It seems, dear Tobi, that one of my... past experiments has turned out to be of greater value than anticipated."
He felt the shift in the room—the sharp interest. Even Nagato's face tightened slightly.
Orochimaru continued, voice silky, "The boy known as Tenzo. Tsunade came searching for answers. Apparently, he's her dear nephew. Her dead brother's spawn."
The bitterness slipped through before he could stop it, a flash of something sour he quickly smothered under a smile.
A brother once. A memory now.
He brushed it aside as the others processed the information. Tobi was giggling like a lunatic, but it was Kakuzu who narrowed his eyes, muttering under his breath.
"What a waste," Kakuzu grumbled. "Could've sold the kid for a fortune if we'd known."
Konan's voice was quiet but sharp. "Who was the other one? The one who fought you?"
Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed. He had been waiting for that question.
He turned slowly to Kakuzu. "Well?"
Kakuzu grunted, crossing his arms. "He matches the description drawn for the Fire Daimyo's bounty. The so-called Dragon Lord."
Orochimaru's pupils slit wider in excitement.
"He goes by Hari," Kakuzu said flatly. "The civilians are calling him 'Maashah-sama'— 'Dragon Kami' or something equally ridiculous."
Orochimaru hummed, tilting his head, remembering the way the boy had moved—no, danced—through the battlefield. Every step, every breath had been calculated perfection, blending elements and movement with something beyond chakra.
Tobi clapped his hands excitedly, jumping up and down. "Dragons! Dragons! We should recruit him! Imagine the firepower! Imagine the fun!"
Orochimaru snarled, shooting a burst of killing intent at the fool, silencing his squeals.
Still, part of what Tobi said rang true.
This Hari was... potent. Beautifully potent.
More than a mere weapon. A phenomenon.
Orochimaru licked his lips thoughtfully.
"I was testing his power," Orochimaru drawled lazily, hiding the grudging respect he felt. "It seems he has… potential."
Sasori sneered from the sidelines. "You lost to a brat."
Orochimaru ignored him entirely.
He turned back to Kakuzu, voice sharp. "His heart would have made a fine prize, wouldn't it?"
Kakuzu shrugged, indifferent. "Would have made me rich."
Orochimaru's eyes gleamed. "He's mine," he said simply, possessively.
Kakuzu snorted. "Good luck. I might add his heart to my collection first."
Orochimaru let the conversation drift into the background as he sank deeper into thought.
Hari.
That was the name he had given. Such a simple name.
And family of Tsunade somehow, though Tsunade had never once mentioned any surviving kin besides herself.
Could he be a Senju? Orochimaru mused. Unlikely. But not impossible.
Every clan had bastards hidden away. Secrets buried under politics and shame.
It didn't matter. Orochimaru would uncover it all eventually.
He wanted to find out everything about the man. How he worked. Where that devastating power came from. How he summoned elements from the world like a god among mortals.
Then, Orochimaru thought with a shiver of excitement, then I'll decide.
Perhaps he would be an ally.
Perhaps he would be a vessel.
Perhaps…
Orochimaru smiled dreamily, blood still drying on his chin.
Perhaps he would be his greatest masterpiece yet.
~ Harry ~
Harry felt it first—before the others could even react.
A shift in the air. The pulse of chakra signatures, fast-moving, closing in.
"More are coming," he said quietly, standing straighter, eyes scanning the broken gates behind them. "Too many."
Tsunade growled under her breath. "Cowards, calling reinforcements."
Harry shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We got what we came for."
He turned to them, catching the way Shizune's knees buckled slightly, exhaustion written plainly on her face. Even Tsunade looked worse for wear, a slight tremble in her hands she was trying to hide.
"No need to spill more blood today," Harry added, taking a step forward and offering both of his hands.
Tsunade eyed him suspiciously. "What are you planning now?"
"Hold on," Harry said, flashing a mischievous smile. "And whatever you do, don't throw up."
Both women hesitated, but Shizune eventually reached out, trusting him first. Tsunade grumbled something about 'idiotic family' and grabbed his other hand.
Harry closed his eyes and twisted—yanking them out of Amegakure, spinning them through the ether and dropping them unceremoniously in a quiet clearing just outside the gambling town they'd stayed at before.
The moment they landed, twin retching sounds erupted beside him.
Harry winced, opening one eye cautiously.
Tsunade was bent over, hands on her knees, gagging. Shizune wasn't much better, clutching her stomach and gasping for breath.
"...Sorry," Harry offered sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
Tsunade spat onto the dirt and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, glaring up at him like she was considering murder. "WHAT. THE HELL. WAS THAT?!"
Harry coughed awkwardly. "Apparition. It's… uh… fast travel?"
Shizune gave him a betrayed look. "Warn us better next time!"
"I did tell you not to throw up," Harry muttered, grinning.
"Not the same, brat!" Tsunade barked, but there was a grudging sort of amusement in her glare now.
Harry plopped down onto the cool grass with a groan, feeling his muscles scream in protest. He needed a minute. Just a minute to—
He hissed quietly, clutching his ribs. His magic felt bruised, strained from blending so much with the ambient chakra during the fight. It had been thrilling in a way—feeling stronger, faster, but it had cost him dearly.
Tsunade noticed.
"You're hurt," she said sharply, crouching beside him, eyes scanning.
Harry waved a hand weakly. "Not badly. Just... magical bruising."
"What the hell does that even mean?" she demanded.
He sighed and leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the sky. "I've been practicing... letting my magic and the chakra of this world... blend. It makes me stronger, faster. But it takes a toll. I'm not used to it yet."
Tsunade narrowed her eyes at him, then without warning, her hands glowed green.
Harry flinched automatically—green chakra usually meant danger where he came from.
"Relax, idiot," Tsunade muttered.
She hovered her hands over him, focusing.
Then she froze.
She pressed harder, scanning.
A beat of silence passed.
"You don't have a chakra network," Tsunade said, horrified. "You're just... empty."
Harry cracked an eye open and drawled, "Magic."
Tsunade's brow twitched. "That's not possible."
"Is too," Harry said cheerfully.
She glared at him like she wanted to throw him through a wall. Probably could, honestly.
Then, without asking, Harry grabbed her hand.
Tsunade stiffened, but he wasn't aggressive—his magic flowed through her gently, scanning.
Harry frowned.
Little fractures along nearly every bone. Microcracks. Tiny old injuries that hadn't healed properly.
He healed a minor cut on her knuckles first, drawing a startled gasp from her.
Then his expression turned deadly serious.
"Sit. Down," he ordered, voice brooking no argument.
Tsunade blinked, stunned.
"What?"
"You have a cracked skeleton," Harry growled. "You're walking around with microfractures everywhere. You should be in agony."
Tsunade sat hard on the grass, looking more stunned than hurt.
"How did you know that?" she asked in a hushed voice. "I only felt a little ache…"
Harry grunted, turning to Shizune and repeating the process.
Not as bad, but still worrying.
"We're getting a room," Harry said firmly. "You two need healing. The boys will be fine for a few more hours."
Tsunade opened her mouth to argue—but thought better of it.
The inn welcomed them back without question, the same cosy place with a café attached.
Harry immediately booked a large room, setting Shizune and Tsunade down onto the thick futons.
"Alright," Harry said, rummaging through his bottomless potions kit. "Time to show off."
Tsunade arched a golden brow. "You think you can heal better than me?"
Harry smirked. "Family talent, apparently."
He flicked his wand with a casual flourish, he might not use it for much but it eased the strain on his magic.
Parchment shimmered into existence in the air above Tsunade, unfurling into a long scroll covered in English script.
Harry frowned at the length of it.
"Merlin."
Tsunade leaned up on her elbow, squinting. "What's it say?"
He cast a quick translation charm, shifting the words into Japanese and handing it to her.
Tsunade snatched it—
—and gasped.
"This… this lists every injury I've ever had!"
"Yup," Harry said, cheerfully hunting for the right potions. "Broken ribs, concussions, cracked femur, shattered wrists…"
"Impossible," Tsunade muttered, scrolling through the parchment with wide eyes.
"You've been ignoring some serious liver damage too," Harry added nonchalantly. "Cut back on the sake, cousin."
Tsunade flushed, scowling fiercely. "I'm the healer here."
Harry just handed her a vial of Skelegrow, a detoxifier, and Dreamless Sleep. "Sure you are. Now drink up, Healer Tsunade."
Tsunade hesitated.
Harry pulled the big guns.
He pouted.
Puppy eyes. Wide and shiny and utterly shameless.
"Trust me?" he whispered.
Tsunade grumbled something about 'damn brat' and tossed back the potions in one go.
"Good girl," Harry teased.
She flipped him off before collapsing backwards into unconsciousness.
Harry chuckled fondly.
Then he turned to Shizune.
"Your turn."
Shizune sat primly, letting him scan her with the diagnostic charm.
Less serious—but the small cuts from the earlier battle worried him.
Harry summoned a bowl of clean, magically conjured water and let it hover over her injuries, drawing the lingering poison out of her bloodstream.
Shizune watched, fascinated.
"Your magic is… incredible," she said softly, awe in her voice.
Harry smiled, embarrassed. "Not everyone thinks so."
"They're idiots," she said firmly.
He gave her a vial of bruise balm, and a mild calming potion. "You're fine otherwise. Just rest."
Shizune yawned delicately. "Thank you, Hari-sama." Making his eyes widen and he was about to protest.
But she was asleep moments later, curled neatly beside Tsunade.
Harry finally let himself breathe.
He sagged onto the futon, exhausted. Every muscle ached. His magic throbbed sluggishly, like an overworked heart.
He had pushed too hard.
The fight, the chakra blending—it had nearly drained him. He couldn't deny the rush he got from being in a proper battle again. Grimbok and the others can never know, he thought.
Still…
He looked around the room, at Tsunade sleeping soundly, at Shizune's peaceful face, at the sense of safety in the air.
Worth it.
He stretched out on his own futon, closing his eyes.
A few hours of rest wouldn't hurt…
~
Harry stirred slowly, the first threads of sunlight slipping past the curtains of their inn room. Shizune was still asleep beside Tsunade on the far side of the room, both women looking marginally better, their features more relaxed than they'd been since the fight. His magic still ached faintly, but it had settled, the pulse of it sitting calmer now that he'd rested.
He smiled faintly to himself, and then sat up.
"Tilly," he whispered.
There was a soft pop, and a moment later the house-elf appeared, dressed in her patched tunic with a loud squeal of joy.
"Master Harry! Tilly is bringing the young masters right away! They is missing you terribly, yes they is!"
"Thank you, Tilly," Harry said warmly.
Another pop—and Shikamaru and Teddy tumbled in, both faces lighting up at the sight of him.
"Maashah!" Shikamaru shouted, racing over, Teddy in his arms.
"Maashah!" Teddy echoed, arms already up.
Harry caught them both, staggering slightly under their combined weight but laughing, pressing a kiss to both their heads.
"Missed you too," he whispered.
Shikamaru pulled back first, puffing his chest out. "I beat Barty again. Three times in a row this time. He started cursing in English—I learned five new words!"
Harry arched a brow, faking a stern look. "Did you now?"
Shikamaru's grin faltered.
Harry leaned in closer. "Care to repeat them?"
The boy blanched, then quickly shook his head. "No, no. Not for little ears." He pointed to Teddy.
Harry's stern face cracked into a grin. "Smart answer."
Teddy was still trying to wriggle into his lap, dragon plush gripped in his mouth.
"Nox let me visit her," Shikamaru went on, quieter now. "She said the egg is mine. Only mine, so only I was allowed near her. Altair says he misses flying with you, and Rigel played with Teddy. Teddy hissed again. Got a few more words this time."
Harry's breath hitched. He pulled both boys close and hugged them fiercely, resting his cheek against Shikamaru's hair, fingers brushing Teddy's curls.
They eventually fell asleep like that—tucked together in a warm tangle of limbs and soft breathing.
When Harry next opened his eyes, Shizune was awake, sitting near the low table with Teddy bouncing lightly on her lap. Across the room, Tsunade was animatedly talking with Shikamaru, her arms gesturing wide as she described something intense.
"...And then your Maashah stopped the rain. All of it," she was saying, smirking.
"He stopped the RAIN?!" Shikamaru gasped, eyes huge.
"Yeah kid, he was badass!"
Harry groaned, sitting up. "You shouldn't believe everything Grandma Tsunade says."
Tsunade smirked and launched a pillow at him, swearing.
"Watch your language," Harry muttered automatically, dodging the pillow.
Shikamaru was bouncing now. "And you turned it to ICE?! And fought the Snake Sannin?! And he ran away?!"
"He retreated strategically," Harry said, deadpan.
"He ran," Tsunade agreed with a grin.
Shikamaru beamed.
They had breakfast shortly after—fragrant rice, miso soup, grilled fish and pickled vegetables.
Once Teddy had finished making a mess and Shikamaru had been coaxed away from begging for seconds, Harry pointed toward the other side of the room.
"Time to practice your calligraphy, little dragon."
"But—"
Harry waved his hand, and the silencing charm dropped like a curtain between them. Shikamaru pouted, dramatically dragging his feet as he fetched the ink and brush.
Harry turned back to Tsunade.
"So. We know Tenzo is in the village. Orochimaru confirmed it."
Tsunade's lips were pressed thin. "And we know the council was involved. At least one of them. Possibly all three."
Harry tilted his head. "Any suspects?"
She hesitated.
Shizune looked between them, equally tense.
"Danzo," Tsunade finally said, spitting the name like poison. "Danzo Shimura. Head of ROOT. Former war hawk. My least favourite corpse-waiting-to-happen."
Harry blinked. "ROOT?"
"A secret faction of ANBU," Shizune offered, as if that helped. "Supposedly disbanded years ago, but everyone knows it still exists in some capacity."
"And this Danzo funded Orochimaru?"
"There were whispers," Tsunade said. "That he gave Orochimaru... options. Targets. Children."
Harry's knuckles tightened around his cup.
Tsunade saw the change and added, "We'll get proof. I have friends in Konoha still. Jiraiya has contacts too."
"What will you do when you have it?"
"Drag that bastard into the street and let the whole village see what he's done."
Harry's expression turned stony. "He won't touch Tenzo again."
Tsunade nodded firmly. "We'll keep him safe."
Harry dropped his voice to a whisper. "I want to meet him. Nawaki's son... he deserves to know about his family. His gift."
Tsunade looked at him, truly looked. "You're not what I expected."
He smiled faintly. "No one ever is."
Then Shikamaru waved from across the room, holding up a messy scroll.
"I wrote 'Maashah is awesome' five times!" he shouted.
Tsunade laughed.
Harry groaned. "That's... technically practice."
He banished the silencing charm.
"Alright, love. Come help me plan how to change the world."
Shikamaru ran over eagerly.
~
Even knowing that this Danzo might have his cousin, Harry had forgotten one painfully important detail.
They were in Konoha.
Not just some distant enemy land. Not a mere dot on a map or name in a dossier.
This was the place. The one Shikamaru had been sold from. The village where his mother, his clan, probably still lived. Where they likely spent the money they earned for delivering their own blood to missing-nin.
Harry couldn't ask his son to go back there.
He wouldn't.
He turned to Tsunade, who was calmly sipping her tea across from him in the small inn room. "I can't do it. I can't take Maru back there."
Tsunade looked up from her cup, her face shadowed by thought. "You're right," she said after a long silence. "Not until we're certain it's safe. I've sent word to my old contacts in the village. If anyone still has a conscience, they'll respond."
Harry nodded tightly. "We need more than that. It's not just about Danzo. I'm still hunted here, remember? The Fire Daimyo's bounty on my head is a nice cherry on top of the shit sundae."
Tsunade snorted. "Don't remind me. That entire court's as crooked as a corkscrew."
That night, Harry sat with Shikamaru beneath the glowing paper lanterns of the inn's courtyard. The soft chirp of cicadas filled the night, blending with the hum of magic layered in the air around them.
"Maru," Harry began gently, "you know how we were talking about your cousin, Tenzo?"
Shikamaru looked up from the scroll he was lazily doodling on. "Yeah?"
"He's in Konoha. Working under someone… someone who let him be experimented on. I need you to know—we don't have to go there. I'd never make you go back to that place."
Shikamaru's eyes darkened briefly, then he gave Harry a tiny smile.
"Maybe… maybe we can steal him too?"
Harry let out a surprised laugh, hugging his son tightly. "You're turning into a bad influence, you know that?"
Shikamaru shrugged, grin growing. "You did it first."
"Fair." Harry ruffled his hair, then grew serious. "The Daimyo is still hunting me. I'm working on something. If it works, we'll have protection. If not… well, I'll figure it out."
He paused, then added softly, "But we'll never run. Not forever."
The next morning, Tsunade declared she'd watch the boys while Harry travelled to the Fire Capital. "Just don't get arrested," she muttered dryly.
Harry chuckled nervously and began listing off everything the boys might need—extra socks, their journals, treats, potions, emergency portkeys—
"Go," Shikamaru groaned, finally shoving him toward the door. "You've come back three times already. We'll be fine!"
"Right. Right," Harry muttered. "Okay, I'm leaving for real this time."
He slipped into the hallway and, after checking that it was empty, apparated without warning.
He landed silently in an alley within the Fire Capital.
His veil hung around him, muting his magical presence and blurring his features. Hood up, gait casual, he walked. It was a strange comfort—the anonymity, the quiet. Here, no one stared. No one whispered "Maashah."
No dragons. No battle.
Just a man wandering through the city.
Until someone bumped into him.
Harry staggered slightly, blinking. The veil should have kept people away—subconsciously avoiding him. But this man had walked right into him.
"Oi, you alright?" the man asked, steadying Harry with a hand.
Harry looked up—and froze.
Kohl-rimmed eyes. Lazy posture. That hair.
He looks like…?
No… older. Taller. Broader. Still familiar.
Then he saw it. The Nara clan symbol stitched onto the man's coat.
His breath caught and his throat seized up.
This man… he could see through his veil.
Harry stumbled backward. "I'm fine," he croaked. "Sorry."
He turned and bolted down the alley.
"Wait!" the man called.
Too late.
Harry apparated around the corner, vanishing into the safety of the royal palace's guest chambers.
~ Ensui ~
"Wait!" Ensui called again, breaking into a jog.
The man had disappeared. One second he was there—the next, gone. No doors. No windows. A dead-end alley.
No chakra flare. No sound.
Ensui stood there in stunned silence, frowning. Something tugged at his memory, something about the man's face and eyes—
He turned on his heel and headed to the meeting point.
Kakashi and Shibi were already at the small tea shop. Kakashi jumped the moment Ensui entered, nostrils flaring like one of his hounds.
"Who did you just talk to?" he demanded, eyes sharp.
"Excuse me?"
Shibi wavered slightly. "There's a presence… heavy. And familiar."
Kakashi stepped forward and sniffed again, like a bloodhound.
"You smell like the target. There are faint traces of Shikamaru as well."
Ensui's eyes widened. "What?"
Kakashi was already at the door. "Show me where you left him. Now."
As they jogged back toward the alley, Ensui cursed himself under his breath. "He didn't feel like anything. No chakra signature. Nothing threatening."
"Describe him," Kakashi said curtly.
Ensui thought back. "He was cloaked. Hooded. But I could see part of his face. Pale. Green eyes. Something about him seemed familiar. I couldn't place it until now."
They reached the dead-end alley.
Kakashi sniffed again. "Nothing. No scent trail."
"I touched him," Ensui muttered. "He was right here."
Shibi stepped forward, then staggered. He let out a giggle.
Both men froze.
"…Shibi?" Kakashi said slowly.
Shibi's face was red from effort. "A jutsu. But not chakra-based. Something else."
Even Kakashi looked disturbed now.
"That's just freaky," Ensui muttered.
"I've never seen him like that," Kakashi whispered.
"We need to contact Shikaku," Ensui said firmly. "If he's in the Capital, then he's here for a reason. He wouldn't risk it with the bounty on his head for nothing."
"This was the first lead in over a month," Kakashi added. "We're not losing it."
Shibi sobered slightly. "He vanished without a trace. There's no energy other than here."
"No," Ensui said. "And I think… I think I just touched the man the Fire Daimyo wants dead."
He looked down the alley, mind racing.
"Shikamaru," he whispered. "He has Shikamaru."
Kakashi's hand tightened on his shoulder.
"We'll find him."
~ Harry ~
When Harry apparated into the palace guest rooms, he staggered slightly, hand braced on the bedframe as the rush of displaced air and magic left his chest tight. The air was warm here, stifling even, but it wasn't the temperature that left his skin clammy—it was what he'd just seen in the street.
That face. Those eyes.
The resemblance was too much to be coincidence. Not just in the eyes, though that particular shade of dark brown bordered on black—intelligent, calculating, weary. It was the shape of the jaw, the way he moved, the faint downturn of his mouth when his eyes locked on Harry.
He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed slowly, breathing shallow. His mind churned with implications, scenarios. Had Konoha stumbled onto their location? Was it a fluke? Did the man even know who Harry was?
He pressed a hand to his chest. "Focus," he whispered to himself, drawing magic through his core and grounding it with a breath. "Later."
First, the reason he came.
Harry let his wand fall into his palm again and murmured, "Point Me: Shinji."
It tugged eastward—toward the garden courtyards.
Of course. The boy always preferred the open air.
With his veil settled around him once more—tightly this time—Harry stepped out into the corridor and followed the pull of the spell.
He found the prince seated beneath a blossom-laden tree, sharing quiet tea with his younger sister and watched over by a few familiar guards. Asuma and Tanaka flanked them, eyes sharp despite the calm afternoon sun.
The garden was too exposed. He couldn't appear suddenly and expect the palace guards not to notice.
Instead, Harry conjured a slip of parchment with a note in fine, careful script:
I'm in the guest wing. Discretion needed. I need your help—no danger, but… urgency. —Harrison.
He transfigured it into a delicate butterfly—simple charm work—and whispered, "Papillio."
The conjuration fluttered across the courtyard, drawing the little girl's delighted gasp as it danced around her fingers before settling on Shinji's lap and turning back into a note.
Harry saw the boy read it.
Saw him still.
Then nod.
Harry left the garden and now back in the room, Harry waited.
The door slammed open twenty minutes later with all the restraint of a thirteen-year-old boy. Shinji burst in, eyes bright with recognition.
"Harrison!" he cheered, leaping toward him for a hug.
Harry caught him, laughing despite himself. "You really shouldn't yell my name in the palace, you know."
"I missed you!"
Tanaka stumbled in behind him. "Prince—! Please, your Highness—!"
"I'm fine!" Shinji beamed, clinging to Harry like a younger brother. "It's him, Tanaka!"
Asuma stepped in, eyes sharp as he scanned the room. "We didn't see Nox?" he asked.
Harry held up a hand and smiled faintly. "She's nesting. But good to see you too, Asuma."
Shinji interrupted. "Where's Teddy?"
"Safe. With my cousin and her apprentice."
"And… why is Nox nesting?" Shinji asked, quieter now.
"She's laying an egg," Harry said proudly. "It'll be my son's dragon."
Shinji pouted. "That's so cool."
"…You're speaking fluently," Asuma said flatly, as if only just realising.
"Mostly," Harry replied, amused. "Accent's still a bit rough, but I got the hang of it."
Shinji positively glowed. "He learned our language in just two months!"
Harry shrugged, not about to explain he'd ripped it from a few shinobi's minds.
Asuma smirked. "You're lucky I didn't assume you were an assassin."
"I believe you," Harry said with a smile, then nodded to the small circle they'd formed. "I needed to talk somewhere private."
Tanaka stepped inside fully and closed the door.
The moment it clicked shut, Harry turned to Shinji. "I'm here because I need to fix the bounty on my head."
Shinji blinked. "The one my father issued?"
Harry's brows lifted. "Are there others?"
Shinji sat up straighter. "The bounty… it wasn't meant as a death order. My father—he issued it because he had no way to reach you. After the letter you left, Concubine Mei was confined to her quarters for three months for her schemes. My father's… ashamed. He hoped the bounty would bring you to court alive."
Harry blinked. "Seriously?"
The boy nodded. "You're the 'Gods Champion' now."
"He issued a bounty, Shinji."
"To bring you back!" Shinji protested. "Not kill. A royal bounty draws attention from bounty hunters and... trackers. He wanted you found. That's all."
Harry sighed. "Even if that's true, it's still made my life significantly more difficult. I have children under my care now. I can't keep them hidden forever."
Shinji froze and shared a look with Asuma and Tanaka, but said nothing.
Harry didn't notice. His voice dropped, serious now. "I want to live safely. Quietly. But I can't if every mercenary in the continent thinks I'm a prize to be delivered to a political throne room."
Asuma said, "The court hasn't been able to track you yet."
"No," Harry said quietly. "And I'd like to keep it that way."
Asuma watched him for a moment. "What do you need from us?"
"I need the bounty rescinded. Officially. No loopholes. No hidden geas about marriage or servitude. And I need to officially exist—legal documents for my presence in Fire Country."
Asuma let out a long breath. "That's not a small ask."
"No," Harry agreed. "But I'm not a small problem."
Shinji exhaled. "Father won't harm you. He saw what you did. He knows you're dangerous, yes—but you're also... revered."
"I'm not a god," Harry muttered.
"No. But you are powerful," Shinji said firmly. "And here, power is protection."
Harry looked between the boy and his guards. "Can you get me an audience with the Daimyo?"
"Not right away," Shinji said. "Maybe... test the waters. We could always ambush him."
"Gods what a shit show," Asuma said, leaning back and groaning.
Shinji spoke up then, not as a boy but a prince, "You saved my life three times in the eight days you were here. I and the Royal family owe you a debt. I'll be sure to remind my father of that and help you establish yourself."
There was a brief silence.
Then Tanaka said, "I'll help you too. I can't speak for the court, but if you need protection to get your case heard... you'll have mine."
Asuma added, "and mine."
Harry looked at him. Grateful. "Thank you."
Harry leaned back against the chair, fingers laced tightly together as Asuma's words replayed in his head.
Asuma cleared his throat. "There's something we need to tell you," he said carefully, eyes darting to Shinji and Tanaka. "It's about… Shikamaru Nara."
Harry stilled.
He didn't speak for a long moment, just slowly blinked once, then twice. His fingers tightened. "How do you know about him?" he asked, low and dangerous.
Asuma didn't flinch. "The Nara clan head came to the capital. He's been tracking your movements for weeks. There were reports of a dragon seen over Aisu Bay, and later over Iron. Then again here in the Fire Capital. The trail led straight to you."
Shinji looked uneasy, but Asuma kept speaking, gentle and measured. "The man tracking you is Shikaku Nara. He's… Shikamaru's father."
Silence slammed into the room like a physical force.
Harry stared, unable to comprehend what he had just heard.
He's Shikamaru's father.
He's Shikamaru's… father.
"His what?"
"His father," Asuma repeated. "Alive. And searching for him."
Harry stood abruptly. The chair behind him screeched across the floor as he paced once, then twice, then turned on his heel, magic thrumming beneath his skin.
"No," he said, voice tight. "No, that's not possible. His father is dead. He believes his father is dead! He—he jumped from a ship rather than go back to Fire Country. I pulled him from the sea myself. Do you understand? He was terrified. If his father was alive he would have wanted to go home!"
Tanaka stepped forward but didn't interrupt. Shinji's expression was pained, his knuckles white on the table's edge.
Harry's voice cracked. "His mother sold him. She sold him, Asuma. Like livestock. Like a thing. She handed him off to three missing-nin and sent him to Kumo where they were going to breed him. He's six. Six years old."
He slammed his fist down on the table. "You don't get to tell me that man is his father. His father wouldn't let that happen if he was alive."
Asuma didn't argue.
Instead, he moved toward Harry, slowly, then grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away from the table and into a firm, grounding grip.
"He didn't know."
Harry froze.
Asuma's voice was gentle now. "Hari… Shikaku didn't know. He thought Shikamaru was safe in the compound. The second he realised something was wrong, he dropped everything. Took a private commission mission and started searching across the borders. He's been hunting down every rumour, every whisper of dragon sightings, just to find his son."
Harry's knees buckled slightly. He caught himself against the edge of the table.
He whispered, "He's alive. He's been looking for his son this whole time. And I…"
Harry's breath stuttered. A pressure swelled in his chest, unbearable and immense, and then—
He collapsed forward.
Not falling entirely, but folding in on himself, shaking as his breath came out in short, ragged bursts. Hands pressed to his face. The heat of tears behind his eyes, though none fell. Not yet.
Asuma was already beside him, murmuring something soft and steady.
Shinji rounded the table and placed a hand on Harry's back. "You didn't know. You did everything right. You saved him."
"I took him," Harry choked out. "I thought—I thought he was abandoned. I thought I was giving him something he didn't have. But if his father is alive…"
Shinji shook his head. "You didn't steal anything. You protected a child who was betrayed by his mother. You gave him your protection and love."
Harry's laugh was broken. "And now I have to tell him his father's alive. And that I— I might lose him."
"You won't," Asuma said softly. "Shikaku's a good man. He'll see it. And Shikamaru—he won't forget who stayed. Who saved him."
"You don't understand. He's my son." Trying to impress the truth on them all.
Harry was quiet again. Then he straightened. Slowly. Deliberately.
He wiped his face and smoothed down his robes. His voice was raw but steadier now. "I'll need an audience with the Daimyo sooner than I thought."
Asuma nodded. "We'll arrange it. We'll vouch for you."
Harry's hands were trembling. "I can't let him go back to Konoha unless I'm there. That village is a viper's nest. I need legitimacy. Citizenship. Rights. Because if anyone tries to take him from me—"
"No one will," Shinji said firmly.
Tanaka gave a rare, grim smile. "We'll make sure of it."
Harry looked at each of them, then finally exhaled.
"Can you send word to Shikaku," he said. "Tell him to come here. But not as a shinobi. As a father."
Asuma nodded. "He'll come."
Harry slumped slightly in his chair.
"…How do I tell him?" he whispered. "How do I tell a little boy who chose me, who thought no one else wanted him… that his real father is alive?"
No one had an answer for that.
~
Harry apparated into the inn room in Tanzuka Gai with a sharp crack of displaced air. The world tilted slightly under his feet, and he had to sit down—hard—on the edge of the bed. His hand trembled against his thigh as he fought to breathe, in… out… in again. The room was warm with laughter. Shikamaru's voice rang clear, bright and sharp as sunlight, and somewhere in the background, Teddy squealed with joy. Shizune was laughing with them, her voice joining the chaos, while Tsunade sat cross-legged in the corner with her back to the door, flipping a page in one of the medical books Harry had translated for her.
They didn't notice his arrival—not at first. And Harry was thankful for that. He needed a moment. Just one.
He had told Shinji and the others that he would return the next day to finalise the plan for the Daimyo. The moment he left the capital he'd apparated straight here, needing to see his boys—to see the life he had built with them. Because everything was about to change.
Shikamaru's laugh made his chest ache. That was his son. In every way that counted. In every way that mattered.
But not the only way.
Because Shikamaru… had a father. A living father. A father who was looking for him.
Harry felt his heart twisting in his chest as the laughter drew closer. He forced a smile onto his face, even as his eyes burned.
"Maashah!" Shikamaru's delighted shout cracked through the room, and the boy launched himself across the tatami mats and slammed into him like a comet.
Harry let out a strangled breath, catching the boy in a tight embrace, pressing his cheek into the dark tangle of hair. He held him close, too close, breathing him in like he might disappear if he let go.
Teddy tottered over next, arms raised, and Harry swept him up with his other arm, curling them both into his chest as if his body could shield them from the world.
Shikamaru leaned back a little, grinning up at him. "Did you see the Daimyo? Did he apologise?"
Harry swallowed thickly and shook his head. "Not yet. I met with Prince Shinji and his guards. We're… working on a plan."
Shikamaru frowned slightly at his tone but didn't push. Harry gently set them both down and glanced at Shizune. "Would you mind taking the boys to get some ice cream? Let them each pick a little gift too. Whatever they like."
That made Shikamaru's frown deepen with suspicion. He tilted his head, studying Harry like he could see through him—but the promise of sweets and gifts proved stronger than the instinct.
"…Okay. But only if I can get two scoops," he said warily.
Harry chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Three. Go wild."
Shizune gave him a questioning look but took the coins without protest and guided the boys out the door. As soon as it clicked shut behind them, Harry slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.
Tsunade rose from the floor and crossed the room in three strides. "Alright. Spill it. What really happened?"
And just like that, the dam broke.
"I didn't know," he choked. "I didn't know, Tsunade—his father… he's alive. Shikamaru's father is alive."
Tsunade's eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply. "His father's Shikaku? I never thought he was from the main line—"
Harry nodded, breath trembling. "Asuma told me. They've been searching for him. He's been tracking us. He didn't know. None of them knew. It was only his mother… only her. The clan had no part in it. His father—he's been looking for his son this whole time."
The room tilted again. Harry felt tears rolling down his face. His chest was burning like someone had torn him open from the inside. "I thought… I thought I was all he had. I thought he was alone. I gave him my name, my blood, my heart—and now…"
Tsunade knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him without hesitation. "You didn't take him from anything, Hari. You saved him."
"He's not just mine," Harry whispered. "He never was. His real father is out there, grieving, desperate—and I didn't know."
Tsunade held him tighter. "That boy was on a ship headed to be sold like livestock. His own mother gave him away. You didn't steal him, Hari. You rescued him."
"But I still kept him," he croaked. "I still called him mine."
"You are his," she said fiercely. "You always will be. And he is yours. You gave him your blood, Hari. Your love."
He let out a shaky laugh through his tears. "Gods, I haven't cried this much in years…"
Tsunade smiled. "You held me when I broke down after learning about Nawaki. Let me return the favour."
Harry swallowed thickly. "How do I tell him? How do I tell my son he doesn't have to be mine anymore?"
Tsunade's expression hardened. "You don't. You tell him his father's alive. That his clan wants him. But you never stop being his parent. Not now. Not after everything."
She let out a sigh, leaning back on her heels. "We're going to Konoha anyway. Once we clear the bounty off your head, you'll become a ward of the Senju. And I'll stop running, take up my role as head. If we do this right, you'll have standing. You won't be forced into anything."
"You'd do that?" Harry asked hoarsely.
"I'm tired. Of running. Of watching people I love suffer because of politics and power grabs. I let Nawaki's memory die once. I won't let that happen again."
Harry drew in a deep breath. "But what about the Hokage? Would I be under his authority? His advisors? I don't think I can keep myself from killing Danzo."
"Not necessarily," Tsunade said. "If we negotiate this properly with the Daimyo, we could push for diplomatic immunity. Your bloodline is unprecedented. If he wants your power on his side, we can use that."
Harry snorted. "Subtle threats then. Gods… Shinji mentioned that the Daimyo takes his tea in one of the large gardens every afternoon with his entourage… he still thinks I'm a champion of the gods. What do you think he would do if I showed up with six fully grown dragons."
Tsunade grinned. "Six dragons interrupting teatime. That'll make a statement, he would give you anything."
Harry let out a breath and nodded. "Whatever it takes. Even if I have to threaten to burn the Capital down, I won't lose Shikamaru."
"It will work," Tsunade promised. "But you should talk to him. Soon."
Harry rubbed his eyes. "I will. But not today. I want to give him one more day. One more day where everything's simple and he's just a boy with his Maashah."
Tsunade stood and pressed a firm kiss to his hair. "Then let him have it."
They sat in silence a while longer, waiting for the sound of returning laughter. Harry didn't have many moments like this—raw and real and terrifying. But he would take it. Because tomorrow, his world might change.
But tonight, he could still be Maashah.
Still be enough.