It wasn't a secret. Or at least, it wasn't supposed to be. 

::

When people look through Academy students' files to assign them to teams or scrutinize their abilities, they base them off superficial judgments without looking deeper than the surface. Why would they dig? We're barely considered genin.

The fact that they had found out so quickly didn't hit Kurenai in the gut until after Wednesday's practice and after she had to witness their solemn faces. She expected them to figure it out, of course, but maybe it would've taken them a week or two and they would've only scratched the surface.

Two weeks and an idea. Not two days and the whole story.

It scared her that every single one of her expectations had been surpassed. And even if they were so caught up in their research that they didn't notice she'd been watching them the whole time, she couldn't bring herself to call them out on it. Not with what they now knew.

And with being barely genin, we're still widely regarded as children, save for the occasional prodigy. As children, we're expected to do the best we can in those six years because we want to be the fastest, the strongest, the smartest, the best. We're expected to do the best so we're assigned the correct teacher and teammates to hone in the skill set that we're expected to uptake. 

But as children, we're not expected to think about fundamentals, so no one really cares that they're being watched, and because I'm not expected to understand this much of the system, I can very well work against it as much as I've been allowed.

Shino had taken a small idea and expanded it through sheer fact. He became an expert on the Senju and the Uzumaki with only what the public library and his father had to offer; comparing skill sets, genetic traits, mapping bloodlines, and making sense of a hundred different voices trying to say the same thing. He found loose threads and tied them together. Threads became knots, knots became ropes, ropes became webs of statistics and walls and knowledge.

He wanted to know something, so he found it out.

Kiba had a silver tongue, she learned, and played the card of a fool like an ace up his sleeve. People talked to him like he was stupid so they never took care of what they spoke, but as soon as they finished he walked away with what he wanted and them never knowing they gave it to him in the first place. He saw Minato's face in Naruto's and Naruto's in Minato's and filched Kushina maiden name off an old vendor whose memory made her forget current laws and remember the little redheaded girl that passed her stall over twenty years ago.

Being oblivious was his cover, seeking was his trade.

Sakura became a shadow for a full eight hours, never speaking or moving when her cover didn't call for it. She didn't eat or drink in that time and became familiar with each and every one of Naruto's tells from the slight rising of his shoulders when someone looked at him or how he forcefully added a spring in his step to keep up the appearance of a happy-go-lucky kid. What Sakura saw Kurenai saw, and what they'd seen they didn't like.

Sakura was like a killer in the mist, silent and undetected.

Knowledge is a very dangerous thing, sensei. I know I'm here to fulfill my duty under the Hokage, but if I'm unable to do so without being kept in a spotlight, then that's where the true shinobi lies, isn't it?

But what was a shinobi's duty? Because genin were not supposed to be this smart, this accurate, this passionate for the truth. She had been there when they placed everything together in that library, close to being caught if Kiba had been paying more attention as he went to the railing to peer around, and watched with slowly growing horror as each piece of the puzzle they slotted together rose to a bigger picture. She'd left shortly after Sakura explained the different tailed beasts and their current locations—information she certainly shouldn't have been in possession of—and went home to sit and think.

This was becoming more dangerous than she first thought.

...

What was going to happen if they sought something that could get them killed?

Kurenai curled in on herself and looked out the window, her stomach churning with an indiscernible feeling.

What was going to happen if one day, they went too far?

::

Something like that couldn't stay hidden. Chakra in the shape of a fox destroying a village and being sealed the same night while leaving behind a body count as high as a month in war and as much damage as if a tsunami hit a small island couldn't be erased. There were records, statements, magazine articles, obituaries, construction orders, chapters in history books.

::

"The Chuunin Exams are coming up in a couple of months," Itachi said. He and his partner were somewhere in the midst of Grass Country on a long term reconnaissance mission. "Have you considered attending?"

Kisame inspected some of the sticks lying on the ground and picked one up, gauging whether or not it would be too damp to be used as firewood. Not that it really mattered with Itachi's fancy-schmancy fire jutsu. "It's in Konoha, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then I won't go."

Itachi knew why he himself couldn't attend—the crime he'd committed was still too fresh and any unnecessary appearance would cause too much of a scene, the opposite of what he'd want. Kisame, though, he couldn't figure a reason. "And why is that?"

Kisame tossed the sticks aside and picked up a couple more. "The last time I saw Sakura was when Konoha shinobi compromised my location."

... Ah.

The thing was, Itachi had seen his partner out on the field more than enough to know why he was called the 'Tail-less Tailed Beast'. He battled like a true monster and killed with no remorse, living for the fight and fighting because he wanted, not because he needed. Bloodlust was like a second skin to him and victory was only an added bonus.

Kisame didn't know the meaning of fault, yet the one thing he couldn't triumph was the feeling that he'd failed his daughter.

"I'm surprised Leader-sama hasn't assigned anyone to monitor them," Itachi said. He watches as Kisame piles the sticks together. "Especially with the rumors surrounding this one."

"Leader-sama doesn't really care about the Chuunin Exams. Chuunin ain't a threat and those exams are more of a peace show than anything. Not much for us there, you know."

"Not even if those rumors concern Orochimaru?"

Broad shoulders stilled. "If Orochimaru doesn't interfere with our plans directly, he's not our problem," replied Kisame. There was a slight pause as his fingers twitched. "... but is that right? He's gonna be at the exams?"

Itachi tilted his head curiously at the sudden change in demeanor. "I've not heard any conflicting information otherwise. Do you have some qualm with him?"

"Not directly, but..." A troubled look crossed Kisame's face, half indecisive, half upset. "Change of plans, Itachi-san. Don't expect to see me 'round exam time."

"You said you have no problem with Orochimaru," he said, an eyebrow raising along with his inquiry.

"I don't." Kisame was determined now and his hand itched to grab hold of Samehada. "But I'm going to make sure he doesn't butt his head in business that isn't his."

::

  It wasn't supposed to be a secret.  

::

Thursday practice was a weapons day and the feeling in Kurenai's stomach had yet to settle. She greeted her students with a chipper smile, as always, and set them up with different types of targets to work on and to rotate through. She had to keep up at least a semblance of a bright appearance because she didn't want to worry them. 

They were her students after all, and no matter what they did, they always would be.

The first station she set up was for throwing projectiles at a straw man target to test for precision and accuracy. One target, a relatively short distance. It was the simpler of the stations and gave Kurenai a general idea of their stance and positioning. Kiba left himself a little too open and a little too eager and fired with too much force, his shuriken landing around the center but his touch of wildness throwing off his precision. Nothing a little more practice and calm preparation couldn't fix.

The second station was for throwing projectiles at various targets placed at different heights in different trees. It was a station used more for distance throwing, and all Kurenai hoped was for her students to at least hit within the designated rings. Shino, she found, not only had some trouble getting his kunai and shuriken to land on the farther targets but that he was incredibly nearsighted. She asked him if he could set up an appointment with an optometrist. He replied that if he remembered, he'd let his father know.

The third station was for throwing projectiles at appearing targets. Certain straw men popped up at different locations with a target on either the head, chest, or knees. It tested reaction times with accuracy and Kurenai wanted them to get a feel of what it would be like to aim at real life targets, because if they weren't too good now, they would be great later.

Sakura was assigned to that one.

Kurenai stood in the distance, fingers tapping at her chin and red eyes darting from her student to their surroundings almost anxiously. Her stomach dropped as Sakura started her routine; she selected a few kunai from her pouch, poised them before her in a fluid grace, and cycled through the straw men like water.

She'd done this before. She'd tried to perfect it before.

Not all her kunai hit dead center, but they all landed in the red middle circle.

Sakura wasn't holding back anymore and it showed, and Kurenai wondered how she'd never seen it before. The more she looked, the more she noticed the small things.

Like how her hands were callused with years of wear and her limbs, while layered with astounding muscles, were still there and still built up from who knows what she'd done. But even if her physical attributes didn't quite catch someone's attention, her mind certainly had. She wasn't like her teammates and she wasn't the smartest person she'd ever met, but she had intelligence. Practicality. Logic.

Sure, Sakura wasn't some prodigy like Hatake Kakashi.

But she was more than enough.

Kurenai moved to commend the girl on her skills, but slowed slightly as Sakura strode to each target and ripped out each of her kunai. "You've—"

"I'll do better next time," Sakura interrupted. Her brows furrowed and her teeth clenched together in visible disappointment as she stuffed each and every one of her weapons back into her pouch.

"Better? You did beautifully. All of your kunai landed in the center."

"I could've done more." Murky green eyes were full of discontent and frustration, so much of it from a simple matter of perfection. "I've been doing this for years. There's no reason why I shouldn't have had it by now."

Kurenai crossed her arms loosely over her middle. So she was right. The skill had come from years in the making. "And even if it takes years more, you shouldn't worry too much," she tried earnestly. Each and every word she meant, but she didn't like the defiant look culminating on her student's face. "Being a shinobi isn't all that we are. Remember when I said that?"

"But I'll never be anything if I'm not a shinobi," Sakura insisted. The defiant look receded until there was nothing more than honesty. Kurenai took a mental step backwards as she stared at her with wide, sympathetic eyes.

The first question that came to mind: Why does she think that?

The second question that came to mind: Who told her to think that?

She looked over her shoulder and saw Kiba and Shino stopped in their tracks and looking in their direction. They immediately turned back to their stations at her glance and acted like they hadn't been caught in the first place.

When she turned back, Sakura was back to plucking kunai from straw men and she couldn't help but let out a small sigh as her shoulders dropped.

Kurenai would persist and things would change. She was sure of it.

::

But because an old man wanted to protect a little boy from a life of hate, he kept it quiet, unspoken of; a taboo.

::

Sakura walked back to her apartment that evening, alone with blood and more calluses caking the tips of her fingers to the bottom of her palms. She promised Kiba and Shino she'd be able to take care of it herself—she wasn't going to tell them, but the Inuzuka nose picked up on the blood way before she did—before they went their separate ways as the sun slipped down from the horizon and covered the town in darkness. 

Her anger during practice surprised her; it had been so long since she wanted to punch something until it broke. The last time it happened, actually, had been back in the days when she trained with Papa and he had to carry her back home when she tired herself out to the point where she could no longer move.

She flexed her dirtied fingers as she climbed up the steps to her apartment. Slipping the pack off her shoulders to pluck her keys from the front pocket, she spotted her neighbor fiddling with his own keys... that were attached to a ridiculously large frog keychain?

Naruto looked up and greeted her with a blinding smile. "Sakura-chan!"

... -chan?

She slung her pack back over her shoulder as he trotted over to her. "Didja just get back from training?"

"We went on a little longer than expected," Sakura shrugged, waving her hand nonchalantly. "What about you?" 

She was prepared to hear him go on and on about his day, but she watched his smile slowly drop off his face as he reached for her wrist and, with surprising gentleness, brought it closer to his face. His expression immediately exploded into worry. "Sakura-chan, you're bleeding!"

"It's not—hey!"

She surged forward as Naruto pulled her towards his apartment. In his panic he doesn't fumble with his keys and he pushed the door open and hurried toward his kitchen. It was the same cramped layout as her own but much messier with dishes piled in the sink, clothes on the chairs, weapons in the corner, and several other things like scrolls and bandages and sharpening tools cast across the ground.

He gently ushered her onto the only clear seat in the kitchen, fear in his face. "What do I—What do I do?! Do we just wash it or get—get—get—"

"Rubbing alcohol and cotton balls," she informed him, an exasperated smile reluctantly reaching her lips. "Rags or something like a small towel is fine if you don't have the cotton balls."

He nodded once before rushing off to find his first-aid kit, probably. She almost laughed when he ran back and nearly nailed himself in the doorway while hugging a white box close to his chest. He went over like he hadn't been hindered in the first place and plopped onto the floor right in front of her.

"How come you didn't get help or somethin'?" he questioned sternly. Naruto popped open the box and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a handful of cotton balls. "You're bleeding and you shoulda been fast 'bout it!" He soaked one of the cottons a little too thoroughly and took one of her hands. In the light they looked worse than what he'd seen outside and he dabbed at them gingerly. "How did it—Sakura-chan, does it hurt when I do that?"

Sakura observed him thoughtfully, feeling the same feeling when Kiba first got her that anmitsu for her birthday. "It's fine."

Doubt clouded his eyes and his bottom lip jut out in a pout. "O-Okay."

As she outstretched her hands and he took great care in fixing up her cuts and sores, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth in deep concentration, she took the time to regard the crown of his head. Uzumaki Naruto helped her without asking while being far more worried than she ever would be, and it made her wonder how an entire village could hate a boy who did nothing wrong but be born at the wrong place at the wrong time.

In fact, how could someone dubbed a "benevolent" Hokage allow something like that to happen?

"There!" he exclaimed, snapping her out of her reverie. "All better, 'ttebayo!"

Sakura's lips quirked as he slathered her hands in ointment and did his best at wrapping both her hands in gauze and tape. It's not a good job at any stretch of the imagination and she was sure she was going to have to re-wrap them later, but his effort was hard not to appreciate. 

"I was going to make dinner, but it looks like I'm going to have some trouble with my hands like this," she mentioned, wiggling her fingers. "Do you want to help? We can even make something that you like."

Naruto blinked. It took him a few seconds to figure that his first real friend just asked him over for dinner, and when it finally sunk in, he shot up to his feet with such force that the nearby table shook. His eyes shone like he'd been offered the world and he reached out to bring Sakura up to her feet too. "Let's make ramen!"

She snorted. "Ramen it is."

They went next door to her apartment, Naruto absolutely filled with joy and absolutely unaware of the stream of questions slowly forming in Sakura's head that would soon lead to learning about something far, far worse than the Kyuubi.

::

That little boy was supposed to be a hero.

::

Shibi didn't see the need to lie to his child about real inquiries he'd have about the village or the clan or the simple workings of everyday life. Shino would take over the clan one day, and when he did, he would be privy to all the information he currently held. That meant clan secrets, village secrets, politics of both the well-meaning and the questionable kind.

So when the Aburame Clan meeting was held and Shino took his customary seat by his side, he didn't pay attention at the way Shino listened to others speak. Of course his boy would be attentive. When was he not? But there was something different then that neither he nor the rest of the clan picked up on. And after the meeting, Shibi didn't question it when Shino excused himself to return to his room for the night and chalked it up to him being tired from training and clan politics, so he didn't find out that Shino had pulled out a small journal to write down one specific thing he'd heard at the meeting.

Possible Threats on Watch: Uchiha Itachi, Orochimaru

In the end, he never knew his son would underline those two names and tuck the journal in his coat to make sure he reminded his team the next day.

Perhaps if he'd noticed, and he'd explained, the future would have unfolded in a different direction.

::

Yet the old man had damned him—and everyone else—all the same, because humans weren't humans if they didn't make the wrong choices.

::

Shino and Kiba found themselves once again the first ones at their meeting point on Friday. They waited in front of the Aquatic Center with their swimsuits on beneath their clothes as Akamaru padded up between them and let out a series of definitive barks.

Shino looked up to his friend for clarification and Kiba sighed. "He's been worried about Sakura since her conversation with Kurenai-sensei yesterday. And I mean, what she said doesn't really sound right. You think she's okay?"

"She's..." Shino trailed off. He pursed his lips. "She's said what her father is. Do you think he'd tell her something like that?"

"She told us that he didn't want his life to be hers, so I don't think so," he replied. "But—you know her ear?" The Aburame nodded. It wasn't like she ever tried to hide it. "I asked about it once and she said it was 'cause one of the people who babysat her didn't care enough to watch her or something like that. It's hella messed up."

It would be. Shino couldn't imagine growing up with a missing-nin was a particularly bright experience. 

He sighed and shook his head. "We'll inquire about it later. Why? It's the only way we'll get real answers from her." He reached into the inside of his coat and pulled out a small journal. "The Aburame had a meeting last night that discussed some particulars of the upcoming exams. We'll be slotted as a defensive platoon if called upon, like always, but they said to watch out for two named rogues: Uchiha Itachi and Orochimaru." Sakura approached them from one end of the street with a pair of black pants and her one-piece swimsuit acting as her shirt. He nodded at her. "Are those names familiar to you?"

"I can give you a quick biography for each of them once we're in a controlled location," she said, a frown touching the edge of her mouth. "Not people to mess with, though. Both S-Class, highly dangerous, in the Top 50 Shinobi in the Bingo Book." A strange light then flitted over her eyes. The others caught it and leaned closer. "Now that I think about it, we should..."

She stopped and her frown deepened. Sakura shot a look over her shoulder and towards the high branches, but saw not one thing out of place. No odd color, no movement, no waves.

Kiba nudged her. "Sakura?"

"I thought someone was there," she mumbled warily, turning back to her team. "Are you guys free after practice today?"

"We end at two on Fridays," said Shino. "Much earlier than our usual days. I haven't made any prior appointments, so I'll be able to attend."

Kiba grinned. "And you know me and Akamaru don't got much going on, so we're all good. What's up?"

"We're going to have a follow up on those tests you took," she informed. In a quieter tone, she added, "and maybe that thing we had going about Naruto had more to it than what we came up with."

Shino pushed up his glasses to rub his eyes, Kiba roughly tousled his own hair with both hands, and Akamaru whined and lay flat on the ground to cover the top of his head with both paws. Kiba nearly tore his hair out. "What else is there? There's nothing else for us to find!" he whisper-yelled.

"What about the person who let it happen?"

"That's treason," Shino muttered. He pulled his hand away from his face and released a long-suffering, resigned sigh. "Then again, we already technically broke the law. So what more?"

"Guys, we're gonna get our asses killed before we're chuunin," Kiba groaned.

A few more minutes passed until Kurenai appeared with her usual smile and guided them into the facility five minutes on the dot before six in the morning. With one hand on her shoulder, Sakura threw one last glimpse at the trees above before trailing into the building for a grueling swim session.

And up in those trees, someone gave a watery smile and braced the large sword against his back as he disappeared.

::

But if wrong choices counted for humanity, the old man would've been the most human of them all.

::

And here we end with a fanart for "Stumble" by ChanChanHanHan !

::