Documenting Acceptable Levels of Insanity for the Shinobi Lifestyle
by aishuu

NOTE: This is based on the Saki-verse, which was created several years ago by the vastly talented Asuka Kureru. Thanks for inviting others to play (though it did take more than three years for me to finish this damned thing). Credit is due to chrysa for beta work, and sophiap for acting as my main sounding board.
CANON: In the nebulous Saki-verse, where Sasuke is retrieved at some point from Orochimaru without too much of the canon second arc happening.

Part 2:

After finishing my immediate evaluations for both Sasuke and Naruto's files, I leaned back in my chair to indulge in a stretch. My neck was tense, and I wish that I hadn't decided to see all of Team Kakashi today. Well... not all. I could, theoretically, bring Kakashi in to discuss the situation as well, but I knew from experience that doing so would be nothing more than a waste of my time. Kakashi was a master dissembler, and he wouldn't reveal anything that might be harmful to a teammate. Even one he regularly called a "stuck up little bastard."

And that was assuming he would show up at some point during the day he was scheduled. Once he'd been nine days late for his appointment, interrupting a session with Anko. Memories of that incident still gave me a couple nightmares.

Shutting my eyes, I ran through some meditation exercises, ensuring the even flow of chakra through my body, which sent a warm, tingling sensation through my nerves and helped me feel rejuvenated. It was a common mistake to believe that only shinobi controlled their chakra; it was something present in all life forces. Only shinobi used it for big-scale things like attacks, but anyone with a basic knowledge of chakra could manipulate the chakra within their body. Chakra, I sometimes thought, was the basis of willpower. It was why belief and determination were so important for those people facing serious injury or illness.

Opening my eyes a moment later, I felt more balanced and ready to tackle the thorny issue of Uchiha Sasuke again. I poured another cup of coffee (my third for the day). Then all I had to do was wait.

The door swung open at noon on the dot, right down to the very second. I didn't believe it was by chance. Such punctuality indicated a controlling nature, or maybe was a passive aggressive reaction to years of being subjected to Kakashi's constant tardiness. I couldn't blame him if that was the case.

He didn't offer me any form of greeting or acknowledgment, instead grabbing the chair Sakura had occupied earlier in the day. He sat down without making a sound, and then proceeded to try to stare me down.

It'd been a while since I'd had him in my office. Aside from our brief, graduation-required session, he'd never fallen under my direct jurisdiction. When the Uchiha massacre had happened, he'd been evaluated by Morino Ibiki, and Ibiki had been the one assigned for his confession (and a minor torture session) after he'd returned from Sound. I didn't have any fancy jutsus to make sure he was telling the truth. All I had was my experience.

I let the seconds tick by in silence, waiting to see if he would speak. While I did, I let my eyes roam over him in appreciation. Uchiha Sasuke was one of the most attractive men in the village. When I was younger, I'd been one of his father's fan girls, but even I had to admit that his looks put Fugaku's to shame. If I were twenty years younger, I might have let myself indulge in a fantasy or two, but despite his good looks, I saw a neglected, screwed-up child sitting in front of me.

Uchiha wasn't going to take kindly to manipulation on my behalf. He'd already had his craw stuffed by Itachi and Orochimaru. Not to mention having Kakashi as a jounin-sensei would encourage him to develop a severe dislike to looking "underneath the underneath."

So, out with it.

"There've been some concerns about your recent behavior, Uchiha-san. It's my duty to decide if you're fit to serve as a shinobi," I told him.

His eyes narrowed in a fashion that I didn't like, but at least he wasn't displaying his Sharingan. Sometimes, I wondered why I'd signed up to be a counselor to the shinobi, since all of my patients were capable of ripping me in half without breaking a sweat.

"I don't see why a civilian evaluator should be involved," he said, his voice almost a growl.

"It's because I'm a civilian that I have to be involved," I told him. "The Hokage may run the village, but more people than just shinobi live in it. My job is to make sure you don't forget that. If I decide you're unfit for duty, you'll be dismissed as a shinobi of Konoha."

For a second, I believed he might just walk out. I've had several shinobi take that little tidbit in a less-than-pleasant manner, especially those that came from one of the great clans. But he remained seated, although he didn't say anything. The derision on his face spoke volumes alone.

I had originally planned on tackling the Saki issue directly, but my interview with Naruto made me decide on a different angle. "Tell me about your relationships with your teammates," I said, phrasing it as an order.

I wondered if he was going to bother answering me, but Sasuke was known for his intellect. If he didn't cooperate, he'd have his shinobi status revoked.

"They don't get in my way too often," he said.

I waited several moments, hoping he would elaborate. It was foolish since Sasuke was all shinobi, all the time. There was no way he'd give me "unnecessary" details. I bet reading his mission reports took Tsunade all of five seconds.

"Do you socialize with them outside of missions?"

"I spar with Kakashi and Naruto," he said.

"What about Haruno-san?"

"She's a girl," he said, and the flat tone of voice gave a very clear indication on his view of my gender.

Once upon a time, I might have been offended by his chauvinistic attitude, but I'd learned over the years that male skepticism did have some basis in truth. To start with, there were fewer girls interested in becoming ninja than boys. The lifestyle was rough and unappealing to girls who wanted to be princesses or mothers. Kunoichi could become exceptional – witness our Godaime – but in general, women didn't last as long as ninja. As genins, they often lacked the strength of their male counterparts as they practiced taijutsu, the most basic of the shinobi arts. Ninjutsu and genjutsu took longer to learn, but that meant they needed to survive before they had a chance to master those disciplines.

Sasuke's attitude wasn't uncommon among the shinobi, though I would have thought exposure to Haruno – indisputably one of the most talented kunoichi of their generation – might have made him a little more respectful of women. It was certainly an interesting look at the way his mind worked. Uchiha Mikoto had been an exceptional kunoichi growing up, but she'd given up her career upon having Itachi. Sasuke had never known his mother as anything except a housewife; it was a pity.

And when I thought on it, I realized how like Mikoto "Saki" must be. I remembered Mikoto as a soft-spoken women, always watching what was going on, but rarely engaging with others; shy, but not weak. The creation of "Saki" might have been forced by a mission, but I would wager her personality has been influenced by forces even Sasuke didn't recognize.

I thought out all of that in a couple seconds, knowing I had to keep the conversation (such as it was) moving. "Do you dislike girls, Sasuke?"

"They're annoying."

"Are you attracted to them?"

His nostrils flared as he struggled not to react. I watched impassively as he shifted forward in his seat, resting his hands on the wooden arms of the chair. "I'm not attracted to anyone. Becoming the best shinobi is my priority, and I don't have time for... romance."

He spoke in a level tone of voice, meeting my eyes squarely, and I might have been convinced if I hadn't seen it all too often before. All shinobi were good liars.

"What do you think of Uzumaki Naruto?"

Sasuke didn't even flinch, although the timing of my question clearly indicated I knew about Naruto and "Saki."

"He's... special," he said, and the second word came out with a slight growl.

"How so?"

I could hear the seconds ticking by as Sasuke thought the question over. His eyes shifted up, indicating he was remembering something. Watching eye movement was one of the best indicators I had when dealing with stubborn shinobi. "He just is," he said finally.

That simple answer said a lot. Sasuke wasn't a verbal person, and despite his high level of intelligence, was a poor communicator. Trying to explain something he understood to someone else would always be a challenge, and him trying to describe Naruto to me would be like trying to tell a blind person what the color orange looked like. It simply was a fact of life that had to be experienced to be understood.

I supposed I might as well attempt to get to the heart of the matter. "What's his relationship with Saki?"

Sasuke was a cool customer – he didn't flinch, and he offered no sign that he was disturbed by hearing the name of his alter ego. "You'd have to ask him."

"I already did. He says she's his girlfriend."

"Then that's what she is. The idiot doesn't lie," Sasuke replied, his lips quirking in a smirk.

I would not let him get under my skin. I would not let him irritate me, I would not let him get me off track, and I most certainly would not let him gain the upper hand.

"Then what's your relationship with Saki?" I threw back.

"I don't have one with her."

"Bullshit, Uchiha. Try pulling the other one. What do you think of her?"

"She's a girl," he said. "A weak girl."

Didn't that say a lot. Sasuke's reluctance to admit any kind of respect for Saki was intriguing and could be symptomatic of so very many bad things. Or it could be a healthy dissociation, a compartmentalization of his life that was his way of coping with the harshness of being a shinobi.

The only way to know would be to meet his other half. I checked the clock, noting we'd gone on for nearly thirty minutes – much better than I'd managed to get out of his teammates. Amusing that the one who was supposed to be the most antisocial had survived the psychiatrist's office for the longest period of time.

"Uchiha-san, can you give a message to Saki-chan for me?"

"Maybe."

"Tell her I want to see her first thing tomorrow, at eight in the morning, in this office."

For the first time since he'd entered the room, he reacted with something other than annoyance and irritation. His eyes widened slightly, and his breathing rate increased. "I'll see she gets the message," he said gruffly, before tagging on, "but I can't guarantee she'll come."

"It's important she does," I said. "It may affect Naruto's chances of becoming Hokage."

Sasuke didn't react, but I was pretty sure he was listening. The rest of the minutes of the session ticked by, but he didn't speak, and I'd already made my point.

I had about thirty minutes to document my impressions of Sasuke's session and grab a bite to eat before my day was due to continue. Scheduling appointments with shinobi was a bit different than scheduling so-called regular people. If I'd been in a civilian practice, I would have stacked appointments on top of each other, keeping people in a waiting room, but that was a bad idea when you deal with twitchy humans armed to the teeth. While it was an open secret that almost all the best had regular sessions with me, none of the shinobi liked others to know they needed to see the village headshrinker. So I made a point of scheduling at least fifteen minutes of downtime between each appointment. It meant I had to see fewer people in a day, but I also was able to get my paperwork done as the day progressed.

I would have liked the time to do a bit of digging into Sasuke's situation, but I had three more people to see before the end of the day. Sessions with Nara Shikaku (severe depression and apathy), Hyuuga Neji (narcissism, anger, fatalism and inferiority), and Maito Gai (I don't even want to start defining his issues) rounded out my schedule. I needed my complete wits around me, since Shikaku was one of the smartest men in the village, Neji was a genius in his own right, and spending time with Gai was frightening, especially if he really got going.

It would be a lie to claim that my day was unique, since every day in my office provided its own share of challenges. As shinobi evaluator, I was constantly presented with very unique cases, and how I reacted was important. I might not be able to cast a jutsu or wield a kunai, but I defend the village in my own way.

As the clock finally hit five, I heaved a sigh of relief and started to close down my office. I would come into the office early the next morning to finish researching the matter. I had requested copies of several mission reports (notably the one which "Saki" had been created for), which would mysteriously arrive on my desk sometime during the night. I knew many counselors had strict protections in place to guard patient confidentiality, but nothing I could do would stop a determined shinobi from getting in. I didn't even bother locking the door; the best defense was the ninja's paranoid conspiracy. None of them would steal anything or spy, for fear of having someone else do the same to them.

I was just drawing the blinds (which Gai had thrown open, proclaiming it a pity to miss the glorious day, never mind the rain outside), when someone spoke.

"So?"

I spun around, jumping at the unexpected presence. Living in a Hidden Village should have prepared me to deal with people appearing out of nowhere, but it was hard to restrain the slight scream whenever someone did it. Damn shinobi had no consideration for civilian sensibilities.

The Godaime was leaning against my desk, a hand casually toying with a pen I'd left there.

"So what?" I shot back, annoyed at Tsunade. She may have been the Godaime, but that didn't give her the right to scare me out of my wits.

She tapped her red, red nails against my desk, not budging an inch. "You know why I'm here."

"And I would tell you if I were ready to report," I shot back. "I'm not done with the evaluations."

"Oh?" A blond eyebrow quirked in inquiry.

"I'm having Saki report here tomorrow," I said. "I need to meet her."

"Didn't you interview Sasuke today?"

"I did, but I need to see 'Saki' in action before I can draw a competent opinion," I said. "Have you seen her before?"

Tsunade shook her head. "I don't get out of the tower much, and I'm not able to walk among the places Naruto and Saki frequent without standing out like a sore thumb. You're not willing to tell me what way you're leaning?" she wheedled.

"You're a doctor, Tsunade. You know how much damage a premature diagnosis can cause," I chided her in return.

"I need to know as soon as you do."

"Want to, you mean. I know you're concerned about Haruno and Naruto, but another week of the current status quo won't make things worse," I said.

She growled slightly. "Don't get snide with me, Ichiraku-sensei."

I could tell the painkillers were wearing off, because I was getting a splitting headache. The last thing I wanted to do right now was argue with the great Tsunade-hime when she was on her high horse. "Look, Tsunade, it's been a very long day, and I just want to get home and forget about how psycho shinobi can be. I'll give you my report as soon as I've come to a conclusion, all right?"

For a second, I thought she might take offense to my rather blunt (and derogatory) comment, but she was more than just a shinobi; Tsunade was a doctor, too, and used to dealing with difficult patients. She sighed and ran a hand over her forehead. "I'll keep you to that," she said, before turning and leaving.

The almost-confrontation with Tsunade was the cap to a trying day in the office. I needed a hug (and maybe a bit more) from my husband and to have a conversation (a normal one) with my daughter. They were the only things that kept me sane and grounded.

I awoke the next morning just as the sun was rising. My husband snored on beside me, and I was tempted to give him a nudge to make him stop. But more than twenty years of marriage had taught me that would start something I didn't have time to finish.

After getting dressed, I headed out toward my office. I really liked the early morning routine in Konoha. The day always felt fresh, and the air smelled cleaner. There were few people on the street, and those who were present were either too sleepy to be much of a bother or shared my joy in waking up early. I stopped by my favorite baker's stall and picked up a cheese danish and a cup of cappuccino.

When I arrived at my office, I was pleased to see the reports that I'd asked for were there. Glancing at the clock, I noted I had an hour to go before "Saki" was due to arrive.

Assuming she showed. I wasn't a hundred percent sure she would.

There really wasn't much in the reports. Kakashi's mission logs were rambling pieces of garbage, offering little useful information aside from the fact the mission was complete. He'd describe what flowers he'd seen on the trip or what he'd had for lunch, but never anything of substance. He would likely claim that I needed to look "underneath the underneath" to get what he was conveying, but I knew it was just his typical need to be infuriating and passive-aggressive.

Naruto's weren't much better. His handwriting was atrocious, and his spelling was worse. He used made-up adjectives to describe his own awesomeness and was light on the details about what actually happened. Only one line, "Sasuke looks like a pretty, pretty girl in a skirt," stood out. And I'd wager that had been written just to mock his sometimes-rival, since the rest of Naruto's reports had plenty of curses to describe the Uchiha.

Sasuke's reports were the worst, though. I had been right about the likely brevity of them. They were all exactly the same, and all contained only two words: Mission Completed. I wondered how he got away with it.

The clock chimed the hour softly, and I looked up to notice it was eight... and my appointment hadn't arrived. That wasn't good; if Saki didn't show, I'd have to make a judgment on what I already knew, without all the facts. It increased my margin of error substantially. Information was my chief weapon in my private war against shinobi insanity.

Luckily, it didn't come down to that in this case. There was a knock, and then the door cracked opened about two minutes after the appointment should have started. A soft, whispery voice, "Excuse me, Ichiraku-sensei?"

"Come in," I replied.

The door swung open hesitantly, if a piece of wood can be said to move like that. Moments later a strikingly beautiful figure entered, and I had to struggle to keep from visibly reacting. Although I had been provided with pictures ahead of time, nothing could create the full impact like the reality.

She was dressed from neck to toe in gothic lolita finery. A lacy black blouse disguised the breadth of her shoulders and lent her a fragility that was not possessed by her male alter ego. Her navy blue skirt was propped up by black tulle, and she wore subtle makeup that enhanced the sharpness of her features. Her entire body language was demure and shy, and I found it very hard to believe this was Uchiha Sasuke, the Avenger of Konoha.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she apologized. This was even more jarring, since I'd wager a year's salary that Sasuke had never apologized for a thing in his life. She stood in the doorway, waiting for me to reply.

"That's fine, Uchiha-san," I assured her. It was strange to be addressing this... I wasn't sure what to call him/her/it... the same way I had Sasuke. "How about you take a seat?"

Her boots, black and featuring bitching heels, clomped across the carpet as she moved toward the seat Naruto had claimed, the one in the middle of the room. Despite the clunky nature of her footwear, she moved with grace. I watched him - not a girl, I reminded myself, not a girl, before deciding that paying attention to gender identifiers would become too much of a headache to be worthwhile – sit herself down. She sat like a lady bred, smoothing her skirt as she settled herself comfortably. It was an unconscious movement, one that spoke of practice rather than feigned femininity.

"Why did you want to see me?" she asked, and I was surprised, again, by the difference between her and Sasuke. It was like Sasuke had taken everything he was and inverted it to create "Saki's" personality.

Ahh, that was the sixty-four thousand ryou question. I had no clue how I wanted to proceed – it depended on how aware Sasuke was of his cross dressing and how much importance he placed on the separation of roles. But since he was projecting himself as an entirely different person, it would probably behoove me to treat "Saki" as a person in her own right.

"There is some concern about your fitness as a shinobi, Uchiha-san. Along with the unconventional nature of your relationship with Uzumaki Naruto, who is viewed by many as the leading contender to be the next Hokage."

She blinked once as she processed what I had said. "They're afraid I'd do something to hurt Naruto-kun?" she asked.

Interesting that she had focused on that issue, instead of the concern for her (or Sasuke's) future. Sasuke would have shot back something about the bastards on the council being intimidated by his prowess or offered to demonstrate his abilities. Saki was concerned about her relationship with Uzumaki.

"If I told you to choose between dating Uzumaki or continuing as a ninja, what would you choose?"

She bit her lip. "Would you make me choose?"

"You might have to, Uchiha-san," I said, "but I'm not the one to make that decision. Right now, we can call it a hypothetical question that I need you to answer."

"Why would I have to be the one to choose? I don't want to hurt anyone," she said, and she shaded her eyes with her long, naturally dark lashes. Yet again, the thought crossed my mind how unfair it was for a man to be so naturally beautiful.

"Shinobi hurt others when they need to protect someone or something," I said. "You can't exist in this life without being willing to hurt someone."

She bit the bottom of her lip, still avoiding meeting my eyes. "I can't choose. Sasuke... Sasuke wouldn't forgive me."

Now this was getting interesting. Saki, like Sasuke before her, referred to her other identity as another person.

"What is the relationship between yourself and Sasuke?"

I could hear the seconds tick away as she thought about her answer. "I'm what he can never be," she said finally.

"What do you mean by that?"

Her fingers twitched in her lap, but she lifted her head to regard me, moving past the shyness. "Sasuke is the best shinobi there is. He doesn't have room for anything else in his life."

I had heard claims of being the "best shinobi" for my entire career, and most times, it was ego talking. In Sasuke's case, Saki might be right. When shinobi reached a certain plateau, it became practically impossible to figure out who was supreme... like the legendary Sannin. Jiraiya had been weaker than Orochimaru, who had been weaker than Tsunade, who had been weaker than Jiraiya. They all had their vulnerabilities and strengths, and sometimes it was a tossup over who would win, if they had to face off.

"That's not a healthy attitude," I said. "What are you, then?"

Her lips quirked, but it wasn't a happy expression she made. "I'm what he had to give up to become the best."

I nodded, indicating that she was to continue. Her hands twisted, fidgeting, and I studied the contrast between her dark nail polish and callused palms. Pretty as she was, she still bore the signs of her livelihood.

It was several moments before she spoke again, and her words were stuttering and disjointed. "I can love and show weakness. I can care about others and accept their affections. I... I don't want to be alone," she said. "Sasuke is strong and doesn't need anyone, but..."

"We all need people in this world. Humans are social animals," I told her.

"Shinobi aren't."

And in a nutshell, this crazy, cross-dressing shinobi had summed up the one fundamental truth that guided my practice. The perfect shinobi had no emotions, but shinobi were also human beings. Trying to reconcile the impossible dichotomy into their lives was what drove the best over the edge, time and again.

"So if I asked you, not Sasuke, to choose, you'd choose Naruto, wouldn't you?" She shook slightly, but didn't answer. "And if I asked Sasuke to choose, he'd choose his career," I pressed on.

"Why can't we have them both?" she asked, and her eyes were large and glossy, like she was about to cry. She was so adorable I wanted to hug her and promise that of course she wouldn't have to choose... but doing so would not only be unrealistic, but perhaps also a lie. Shinobi were the weapons of Konoha, and their personal desires had to take backseat to the greater good of the village.

"If you're a shinobi, you should know why that might not be possible," I told her. "If another war starts, you might be forced to make some tough choices. There're reasons why intrateam fraternization is frowned upon."

"I know that. But Naruto-kun..." she trailed off. "Naruto-kun makes the impossible possible. He would never leave a teammate behind."

Having read the "retrieve Sasuke" mission files (filled out by Shikaku's chuunin son, who I would have to get to fairly soon), I could believe that. Uzumaki Naruto would do anything for his teammates. He carried the so-called "Will of Fire" that had defined both Jiraiya and his father, Namikaze Minato. I wasn't sure I believed in it, but it helped the shinobi function, so I wasn't going to knock it.

"I know that, Uchiha-san. The question is, would you? Could you?"

I wondered if she was going to start hyperventilating, but she managed to maintain control of herself. "Sasuke is the perfect shinobi. He'll do what he needs to."

Again, I found that answer less than satisfying since I knew Sasuke had been trained by Kakashi, who held some decidedly out of sync ideas about what was important as a shinobi. But all the members of the former Team Seven had grown into exceptional shinobi, so maybe he had a point in the importance of teamwork.

"And what about you, Saki-san? I know you've participated in missions before."

She blushed, and her head dropped again in embarrassment. "I'm never alone when I do a mission. Naruto-kun..." her voice trailed off. "If I'm on a mission, he's going to be the one making the decisions, and I'll follow his lead."

Saki was so very submissive. It was possible that was a deliberate choice on her behalf or a reflection on Sasuke's misogynistic views.

"I see," I said finally.

She sat in silence, a tableau of feminine frailty as her eyes remained fixated on her hands. There were many questions I could have asked her, but she'd already told me what I needed to know. Glancing at the clock, I noticed it was almost time to end the session, anyway.

"Thank you very much for coming in on such short notice, Uchiha-san," I told her.

She nodded and rose to her feet in a smooth move that made me slightly envious, again. "Thank you very much for listening, Ichiraku-sensei," and she bowed respectfully, her fingers lightly touching in front of her thighs.

After Saki left in a graceful swish of skirts, I rubbed my head although I didn't have a headache. I was relatively lucky in this whole examination of Uchiha Sasuke; I hadn't needed to visit the medic for shinobi-inflicted physical damage. While most of my clients knew better than to hurt their evaluator, a couple lashed out. I ended up with the satisfaction of seeing them cashiered from Konoha's service, but I hated the pain lingering wounds inflicted. I also bore a couple of scars that the medicnin had been unable to heal entirely, though I didn't like to think about that.

After refilling my coffee cup, I pulled out a sheet of paper and prepared to draw the verdict. I always agonized over this, even if the answer was blindingly obvious, because of the few mistakes (Itachi, Orochimaru....) I had made. If I made a mistake with Sasuke, I would have to share the blame for whatever mayhem he caused.

But if I was too cautious, I might deprive Konoha of the skills of one of the most powerful shinobi in the world. Or more than just one. If Uchiha Sasuke were taken out of Konoha's line-up, I had the feeling his teammates might follow. I tapped my pen against the white paper, trying to decide how to frame my conclusion.

I was just finishing up when the door opened. "I'm expecting someone soon, Tsunade."

"I had your schedule cleared."

The high-handedness of her doing so was irritating, and I considered chewing her out for it, but I knew she did it out of concern. Tsunade was a good Hokage because she loved her people, and Haruno and Naruto – and through them, Uchiha – were particularly close to her heart.

"Don't get in the habit of it," I said, a mild reprimand.

She snorted, before striding over to stand next to my shoulder and attempt to peek at the report I was working on. I tsked and covered it with my hand.

"You're being rude," I chided her. "Take a seat, and we can talk like civilized people."

"Sure thing, sensei," she drawled. "And I brought something along to make the conversation flow a little more smoothly."

She pulled out a very large jug of sake and held it out to me. Knowing Tsunade, the sake would be of the finest quality. I looked at Tsunade, giving her a long look before I took the bottle of sake. It wasn't yet ten in the morning, but I could feel the appeal of drinking alcohol.

"Just to be clear, this isn't a bribe," I told her. "It's a gift for my devoted, extremely courageous service to Konoha."

"Of course," Tsunade replied.

I didn't have any sake cups, so I had to make due with the mugs I kept for coffee. Never mind the fact it gave me the excuse to dole out a lot more for the each of us.

Tsunade looked incongruous holding the Hello Kitty mug, but she drank the sake down like it was coffee, sipping away at fairly regular intervals. "Well? What's the verdict?"

I might have been tempted to prevaricate, but Tsunade was not known for her vast wellsprings of patience. "Complete dissociation," I said.

She tilted her head, biting her lower lip as she thought on that. "Is he dangerous?"

I leveled a "you have to be kidding me" look on her. "He's an Uchiha," I said dryly.

Tsunade immediately saw my point, and rephrased her question. "Correction: does this make him unfit for duty?"

"In my opinion, Uchiha Sasuke has the potential to become one of your most efficient operatives," I said. Tsunade gave me a smile, but I held up a hand. "Uchiha Saki, however, should be considered a non-combatant. You might want to see about drawing her up some paperwork and getting identification forms."

Her eyes widened slightly. "So you think the village should treat him as two people?" Tsunade asked.

"If cross-dressing is Sasuke's method of coping, I say we encourage it. The last thing we need is for him to turn into another Itachi."

We both shuddered at the thought. Sasuke had the potential to be one of the best, but that could be a dual-edged weapon. If we were to be practical about things, it made more sense to put him on restricted duty, maybe relegate him to guarding the walls forever where he couldn't do that much damage.

But Tsunade was a gambler. And Konoha needed the best ninja it could get, which meant crazy had to be judged on a relative scale.

"I'll take your recommendations into consideration," Tsunade said.

That was as good as confirming what I already knew: as long as Sasuke wasn't about to murder us in our beds, he'd maintain his place as a Konoha shinobi. Sasuke's insanity wasn't manifesting in a detrimental fashion; on the contrary, it might be a healthy outlet. Considering what his older brother had done after snapping, I counted Konoha lucky that Sasuke had fixated on dressing in lace and wearing strawberry lip gloss.

I suppose I should say something about how my under appreciated efforts made a difference in Sasuke's life, and how I was convinced I'd offered the right advice to Tsunade. But that's not the way this story goes.

In my experience, counseling has never "fixed" anyone. Humans are wonderfully, aggravatingly complex organisms and answers can rarely be boiled down into definitives. I would have no way of ever realizing if separating Sasuke and Saki's legal identities was the best decision, but it was the decision I had reached. So I did what I usually did after drawing a conclusion: I scheduled Sasuke and Saki for monthly appointments (alternating biweekly Thursdays) and considered the matter as settled as it was going to get.

Three months later, I had reason to reconsider.

I don't visit my husband's stand that often, since I'm not a huge ramen fan, and I prefer to see Teuchi outside of his working environment. Being around him when he cooked was aggravating as he tended to obsess over every little detail, leaving little time for conversation. As one of those unspoken marital compromises, I decided not to hang around frequently because his inattentiveness would have made me want to pick a fight.

But every now and then, I would pop by to see my daughter. Ayame's at the age where she's too old to be dependent on her mother, but not yet old enough to want to spend time with me. Eating a bowl she'd cooked made me happy, and we often shared good conversations as I ate.

I'd closed the office early that day (Kakashi had missed his appointment, and I wasn't going to wait until he deigned to show, since it could be in five minutes or five days) and headed for the stand. It was just a bit too early for the dinner crowd to arrive, which provided me with the perfect window. Ayame made the bowl of miso ramen herself, with Teuchi keeping a careful eye on the process. She smiled as she set it down, leaning across the counter as she waited for me to taste.

I was interrupted before I could though, as a couple of people pushed past the curtain to the stall, each claiming a stool. Uchiha Saki sat directly next to me, with Naruto next to her and Haruno on the far side. I blinked for a second, before turning my face down toward my bowl.

I'm not a rude person by nature, but my profession made me a social pariah in many cases. People didn't like greeting me, because doing so would be admitting that they knew who I was, and no one wanted others thinking they're in need of the local headshrinker. I've learned it's best to ignore others unless they went out of their way to acknowledge my presence.

Team Kakashi's (I suppose I can call them that, even though Saki wasn't technically a member of that august trio) arrival necessitated my daughter's attention to take the orders. I slurped my ramen slowly and listened to them order – a bowl of soba for Saki, three bowls of beef ramen for Naruto and a single serving of pork ramen for Sakura – before they returned to an already-in-progress conversation.

"Like I was saying, Sasuke and I are both perfectly fine with it," I heard Haruno say from her place three seats away. "I never figured you'd have issues."

Naruto shook his head in denial. "Isn't it kind of like, cheating?"

"It's only cheating if we didn't tell you," Haruno replied. "Right, Saki-chan?" I could almost hear the hearts dripping off Saki's name.

Naruto swung around on his seat. "You really want to do this, babe?"

Saki was spared from answering by a timely interruption from my daughter, who delivered their orders with brisk efficiency. And as everyone in Konoha knows, not even the world ending could distract Uzumaki Naruto from ramen, which tabled the conversation.

I kind of wished I hadn't heard it. It was possible there could be some innocent explanation for their discussion, that I had missed the opening salvos, so I was misinterpreting things.

Watching as Naruto inhaled two bowls (while placing an order for three more) within sixty seconds put me off my hunger. Saki was sipping at her water glass instead of eating, but Haruno was digging into her own meal heartily. From the blood-stained clothing she wore, I wagered she'd just finished a rough shift at the hospital and was famished.

After finishing his third bowl (before Saki had even started, and Haruno was only half-finished her meal), Naruto slid back from the table and patted his belly. "Nothing in the world is better than fresh, Ichiraku Ramen!" he declared happily.

I watched as Sakura's eyebrow twitched. "Nothing?" she echoed, keenly stressing the word.

I was missing something, but even as an outsider I knew Naruto had just made a verbal faux pas. A smarter ninja would have noticed the warning signs, but this was Naruto. He compounded complete idiocy with usual male obliviousness, which made the result a foregone conclusion.

"Nope!" he chirped cheerfully back.

Years of being around stressed-out shinobi had honed my instincts. While I certainly couldn't fight one, I'd learned the art of ducking quickly. It's one of the reasons I'd survived.

So I was already falling to the floor as Naruto was speaking. But what surprised me was that I was pulling Uchiha Saki down with me. As we hit the ground, my mind went numb as I realized what I'd done. I had really good instincts for shinobi, and manhandling one was a sure-fire recipe for getting your ass kicked.

To my shock, she didn't do anything except curl up slightly, protecting her face and head by tucking against her body. I still had my hands on her waist, feeling the fine cotton of her frilly shirt beneath my fingers. She made a slight whimpers as she heard the sound of Haruno shrieking and then throwing her bowl at Naruto's head.

Naruto managed to duck, which was a good thing considering the fact that the bowl shot across the tiny stall fast enough to decapitate a man. The ramen didn't even spill mid-flight, though the shattered bowl did leave a mess for my daughter to clean up.

"THE RAMEN!" Naruto cried in horror.

I heard my husband and daughter screaming at Haruno, adding to the confusion.

"YOU UNGRATEFUL GIRL!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Glancing up, I saw my husband waving a strainer at Haruno, whose face was flushed and angry. Naruto stood in front of his teammate, trying to keep my family from getting at her... and Saki was still on the ground, peeking through her hands. I looked at her, and saw nothing of Uchiha Sasuke in her face. Instead, I saw a civilian, which was likely why I'd pulled her down instinctively.

Knowing Naruto and Team Seven's reputation, half the city block was about to be destroyed. And I wondered if I was the only one who realized how utterly insane the entire situation was – two shinobi were about to go at it with my husband and daughter, and I was protecting a cross dresser. Somehow it felt natural to shield Saki, though. She was everything soft and gentle that Uchiha Sasuke couldn't be, and I was willing to help him perpetuate the role.

These were times I wondered if, as the lone sane person left in Konoha, I wasn't actually the craziest in the entire village.

--30--