The paperwork department of the Hokage tower was always busy and their tasks as varied as they were boring.

In one corner of the archive a bald man with a bad back was adding in new information about recent insurgents in Kumo; in another a girl with thick glasses carefully scribed vague rumours that the civil war in Mist might have finally been resolved. A tall, lanky man in the Eastern hallway was all but buried in scrolls and files, looking for information about a particular missing nin or a gambling ring or something of the sort; no one had quite managed to get through his mumbling.

Here and there were also the people who were responsible for looking through new missions and finding discrepancies and falsehoods that could indicate a trap, or simply whether the client had told them blatant lies about their situation to save some ryo (no one wanted a repeat of that mess in Wave, thank god it had been before Tsunade and her flaring temper took charge).

Their jobs in particular had been stressful lately; many had been called out for interrogation and then simply disappeared without a word. Spies and traitors, everyone knew. It was difficult not to feel nervous, even with a clean conscience.

Approximately ten minutes before lunch hour, a chuunin by the name of Ryuumaru was called away. He returned five minutes later, pale and sweaty, and all but collapsed in a chair, burying his face in his arms. A man called Takeshi approached him, eyebrow raised impatiently. "Well, what is it? Spit it out. You can't be a traitor if you're still here."

Ryuumaru's expression belonged to a person who expected doom and hellfire in near future. "Tsunade-sama wants me to vet another mission for Team Seven."

There was a second of a pause. Then, chairs clattered on the ground, books were dropped on the floor (and on vulnerable toes) and several people made hasty signs to ward off evil.

"You know better than to speak that name aloud!" Takeshi hissed venomously. People nodded and agreed, some complaining that now they had to look through the records again (a persistent rumour circulated that mentioning the name of That Team out loud was enough to cause all vetted missions to become unreliable again).

Ryuumaru winced and apologised.

(He wasn't sorry, not really. If he had to suffer because the snotty little bastards managed to locate more S-class missing nin, ancient conspiracies or another blasted invasion out of fucking nowhere, he wasn't going to be suffering alone.)

Probably some of you happen to know me and Silver Queen talk a lot. I often end up inspired and write little drabbles for this and that. I figured I might as well share, since she gave her blessing.

I sometimes still scratch at my head as to how we became friends. It really pays off to talk to people. Go give a stranger a chance, you never know if they end up becoming, as Naruto would say, a precious person.