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Genma was standing at attention, technically. He was leaning against the wall, but he was paying attention to his surroundings, and, from his perspective, that was the important part. His eyes slowly swept the hallway outside the Hokage’s office, but he kept the corner of them on the receptionist’s desk.
Shikaku was acting strange.
The man tended to fade into the background, in a way. He was quiet in almost every setting, unless spoken to directly. His work was always completed efficiently, competently, and on time. He complained about his workload a bit, as everyone expected him to, but he wasn’t a huge presence. He wasn’t loud, or showy, or eccentric, or flashy, unlike most shinobi. He showed up, did his job, complained a little, and then left.
So when he hustled into Hokage tower late every day for the last four weeks, visibly harried, and had been late turning in several reports, Genma took note. After all, it was technically, sort of, his job. Well, really, his job was to guard Lady Hokage, not to focus on the jounin commander and whether or not he was getting his administrative duties done on time, but they were connected. Raidou always called him a gossip hound, but he considered it being thorough. Really, the jounin commander being out of sorts could have massive safety ramifications, probably.
He stifled a smile, picturing Raidou’s face if he tried to make that argument. Actually. . .
The hallway outside the Hokage’s office had cleared out. Shikaku had hurriedly turned in a (late) report to be given to Lady Tsunade and promptly gone back to his office, and the receptionist had gone to the bathroom. It was just him on the right side of the door to Lady Tsunade’s office, and Raidou on the left. He turned his head ever so slightly to the left and spoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“Nara’s been weird lately, right?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Raidou roll his eyes exaggeratedly. “Not really our business, Genma.”
Genma shrugged easily. “I mean, think of the safety concerns if our beloved jounin commander isn’t at the top of his game, Rai. It could have huge consequences.”
Raidou sighed. “I shouldn’t even be entertaining you about this, you know.”
The smile he’d been trying to hold in broke free. “But you are entertaining me.”
There was a small frown on Raidou’s face. “He has been a bit,” he paused, “off lately.”
“He was two weeks late turning in those requisition forms for more training ground space.”
Raidou raised his eyebrows. “Two weeks? He was the one who convinced the council that more training ground space was an urgent concern. I wouldn’t be surprised if they decide to not do it since it took him so long with the paperwork.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Ramifications, Rai.”
“I wonder if everything’s okay.”
“What do you mean?”
Raidou gave a small shrug. “Like, at home. Maybe something’s distracting him.”
Genma frowned. “Or, what if it’s, like, a fun reason? One that’s not depressing? Did you consider that?”
Raidou sighed. He seemed to do that a lot around Genma, for some reason. “What would a fun reason even be?”
Genma’s lips pulled into a teasing smirk. “Well, Rai, when two people love each other very much–”
Raidou scoffed and rolled his eyes more aggressively than Genma had ever seen. “First of all, I don’t need the talk from you of all people. I’m older than you. Secondly, that wouldn’t explain why he’s been consistently off for several weeks. It’d explain a day or two, sure, but it’s been almost a month.”
Genma hummed. “You know, I heard a rumor the other day.”
Raidou blinked. Deciding that was a cue that he was interested and wanted to hear more, Genma continued.
“Apparently Inoichi has been acting strangely lately, too. Coming in early, going home late, but barely getting anything done. Kotetsu was telling me.”
Raidou grunted. “Any rumors about Chouza?”
Genma cocked his head. “Not that I’ve heard.”
Raidou shrugged lightly. “Matter of time, maybe?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
The receptionist came back from the bathroom, and they both fell to attention, silent.
Sakura rarely felt more comfortable than she did sitting at Ino’s feet while Ino braided her hair. Ino always brushed it out so gently, worked camellia-scented oil into Sakura’s hair, and scratched her longer-than-they-probably-should-be nails against Sakura’s scalp as she went.
Usually, at least.
Today, Ino hadn’t brushed her hair to start, and she absentmindedly tugged at knots as she braided, not seeming to care if she pulled uncomfortably. Normally, in the interest of keeping the peace in their newly-reformed friendship, Sakura wouldn’t complain, but it wasn’t like Ino to be like this. She cleared her throat tentatively.
“Hey, Ino-pig?”
Silence.
“You okay?”
Silence. Then,
“Sorry, did you say something, Sakura?”
Sakura winced, both at a particularly hard tug on her hair, and that Ino hadn’t called her ‘Forehead’. Something was clearly wrong.
“You just seem out of it. Is everything okay?”
Ino let go of Sakura’s hair, and it slowly and softly unraveled from its braid.
“I, uh. I’m fine.”
Sakura tilted her head back, looking up at Ino, who had turned her face to the side and was biting her lip.
“Ino.” Sakura patted the floor next to her.
Ino flopped gracelessly onto the ground and shrugged helplessly.
“My parents have been acting weird lately.”
Sakura tilted her head to the side, but didn’t interrupt.
“My dad’s been out way later than usual, and he barely talks to me or Mom anymore. I’ve asked Mom if she knows what’s going on, but she just sighs and says stuff about how ‘they’re being foolish’ and stuff about how my dad can’t hide anything from her, and then she won’t answer any of my other questions.”
Sakura frowned, eyebrows furrowing, and Ino sniffled.
“Do, do you think my dad is cheating on her? Are they gonna get divorced?”
Sakura’s eyes went wide.
“I’m sure it’s just work stuff! Like, maybe things are really busy in Intelligence right now, and it’s classified, so he can’t tell you guys?”
Ino brightened slightly. “That,” she said slowly, “could make sense, I guess. Yeah, like, Mom knows he’s keeping stuff quiet because of work, but she knows him well enough to know what’s going on anyway?”
Sakura nodded encouragingly. “I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about, Ino-pig.”
Ino rested her head on Sakura’s shoulder. “Thanks, Forehead. I appreciate it.”
Sakura ran a hand through Ino’s hair. “Of course. Now, are you actually gonna braid my hair, or what?”
Ino laughed and stood back up. “Alright, alright, calm down, you harpy!”
Chouza ambled his way up to the gate of the Inuzuka clan compound. They tended to expect him, so no one stopped him as he made his way to the main house carrying a large crate.
Just as he was about to knock on the door, he heard a bark from inside, and Tsume slid open the door.
“Tsume, hello!” he greeted cheerfully. “I have meat for the dogs.”
Tsume waved him in and instructed him to drop the crate in the kitchen.
“I owe you the same as usual?” she asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She offered him a cup, and he accepted, sitting down at the kitchen table.
“Yes, but I put some extra in there for you.”
She frowned. “I won’t take handouts, Chouza.”
He waved her off. “No, no, nothing like that. I’d ordered extra for an InoShikaCho dinner in a couple of days, but, well.” He sighed. “Our Ino and our Shika both curiously find themselves unable to attend, so it’ll go to waste otherwise. Oh, thank you.” He took the proffered cup of coffee and sipped at it gratefully.
Tsume sat across from him, curled up in her chair. “Oh? What, they too busy?”
“No, they’re just both being ridiculous right now and are refusing to see each other.”
She barked out a laugh. “Lover’s spat, huh?”
Chouza blinked. “I wasn’t aware either of them had told–”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Didn’t have to. They’ve been moony-eyed over each other for years. I’m surprised it took them this long to realize.”
Chouza leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yes, well, it took them ages to realize, and they’ve both decided I’m the best person for them to talk to about it. With the strict agreement that I’m not to tell the other about it, of course.”
Tsume cocked her head to the side. “Wait, they’re not actually together?”
Chouza laughed. “Kami, no. If they were together, I’d have a lot less to worry about. No, they’re just now realizing what the rest of us have known for at least twenty years, and they’ve decided to make it my problem.”
“And, what, they both think the other one doesn’t feel the same?”
Chouza nodded. “It’s getting frustrating, that’s for sure. If they weren’t both so important to the way the village runs, I’d suggest just locking them in a room together until they,” he coughed, “get it out of their systems.”
Tsume laughed. “Knowing Shikaku, he’d think himself into a panic attack before he ever even made a move.”
Chouza sighed deeply. “You’re probably right.” He rested his head on his hand. “The current concerns are that Inoichi thinks his wife won’t be supportive, and that Shikaku worries it will affect both of their performances at their jobs.”
“Rumor has it that Shikaku’s already messing up at work anyway,” Tsume says offhand. When Chouza just blinks at her, she smirks. “The Shiranui brat likes to gossip at Jounin HQ.”
“Regardless, both of their concerns are irrelevant, just like all the other ones they’ve complained to me about, and I’m starting to lose my patience. If I have to hear one more comment on how ruggedly handsome Shikaku’s facial scars are, I might just have to leave the village.”
Tsume cackles. “What are they, genin? That’s the most innocent pining I’ve ever heard of!”
“Trust me, it’s not all so innocent.” Chouza’s face darkens, which sets Tsume off, gasping between laughs. “I haven’t run a mission with them in almost a decade, but apparently Shikaku still remembers exactly what Inoichi looked like bathing in a river in Grass Country.” He rolled his eyes.
Chouza sipped his coffee while Tsume’s laughter subsided. “So, what, they’re just ignoring each other now?”
“This dinner has been planned for over a month, but they’ve both said they don’t want to come anymore. Privately, of course, they’re both worried that their wives will figure it out if they see how they act around each other.” He paused thoughtfully. “I think they might also be worried that the other will figure it out.”
Tsume scoffed. “As if their wives haven’t already figured it out.” Chouza tipped his coffee cup in acknowledgment. “Yoshino is just about the smartest woman I ever worked with, with intuition and instincts almost on par with an Inuzuka. And Anri’s in Intelligence. I’ll be damned if she hasn’t figured it out by now. I mean, hell, I figured it out, and I barely see either of them!”
Chouza laughed. “What I don’t understand is what they’re doing with all their time. Rumor has it that Shikaku has been late to work almost every day for weeks, and I hear that Inoichi has been coming home later and later every day. It’s not like they’re seeing each other, so I don’t know what they could possibly be doing.”
Tsume just raised her eyebrows suggestively and smirked. Chouza groaned and set his coffee cup down, standing up.
“On that enlightening note.” Tsume laughed. “I appreciate you letting me ramble for a bit, but I’ll get out of your hair.”
She waved dismissively. “Nonsense. I’ll never turn down the gossip. Makes for a good bargaining chip if no one will agree to spar with me.” That startled a laugh out of Chouza.
He made his way to the door. “Thanks for the coffee,” he called over his shoulder.
Hearing nothing more than a grunt from Tsume, he left.
Everyone always told Shikamaru that he was a genius. Analytically brilliant, a natural strategist. That his only real flaw was how lazy he was, how lazy the Nara were as a whole. He didn’t like the excessive praise, frankly, and he especially didn’t like the expectations that came along with it, but he understood where they were coming from, he supposed.
Natural brilliance, though, wasn’t helping him here. He had thought he was an expert at reading people. Figuring out what they were thinking, why they acted the way they did, what they were going to do next. This time, though, he was at a loss.
“Why is my dad being so weird lately?” he pondered aloud. The only response was the crunching of potato chips next to him. Chouji swallowed.
“What’s he doing that’s weird?”
“He’s always at work. Like, always. I’ve only seen him twice in the last two weeks, and both times were after I’d gone to bed for the night. I got up to get water and he was just sitting in the kitchen by himself. In the dark. Didn’t say a word either time.”
Chouji shrugged lightly. “Maybe he’s just been busy.”
Shikamaru blinked. “Chouji, it’s my dad. He would never let himself get busy enough to have to stay at work late. He hates his job.”
Chouji tilted his head. “Wouldn’t he have quit by now if he hated it so much?”
Shikamaru thumped his head back against the grass. “I guess maybe he doesn’t hate it. But he always complains about how much work he has to do, and complains about working with Lady Tsunade, and complains about how he never gets enough days off, and complains about the council. I don’t think he’s ever said a thing about his job that he actually likes.”
Chouji hummed. “Neither have you.”
Shikamaru rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well it’s in my nature.” Chouji just sort of gestured with his bag of potato chips, and Shikamaru sighed. “Okay, okay, point taken.”
The only sound for a few minutes was the crunching of potato chips and the crinkle of a second bag of chips being opened.
“Is it that strange for him to be at work a lot?” Chouji piped up.
Shikamaru startled out of a light doze. “Hm?”
“I mean, you said he’s been acting weird, enough for you to be worried about it, but the only thing you said he’s doing that’s weird is being at work a lot.”
“The only other time he’s been this busy was after Orochimaru invaded.”
Chouji tilted his head. “I suppose that’s a reason to be worried. But you’re a chuunin, if something that big was going on, they would’ve at least told you.”
“You’d think.” Shikamaru paused. “Has your dad been especially busy?”
Chouji shook his head. “No, but he only really gets busy during wartime, I guess. Though,” Chouji paused, thinking. He spoke slowly, “I think I remember overhearing him talking to Mom. He said something about Ino’s dad being super busy at work, too.”
Shikamaru sat up abruptly. “Do you think we’re going to war?”
“There’s probably a dozen reasons that the Jounin Commander and the head of T&I would both be busy at the same time that aren’t war,” he reasoned, but he looked troubled.
Shikamaru laid back down and put his arms over his face. “There could be an important prisoner that got brought in lately, someone with a lot of information. There could have been another attempted invasion. We could be planning an invasion against someone else. There could have been more sightings of that group that attacked Kakashi-sensei. Hell, Hokage-sama could just be overhauling their departments.”
“Okay, yeah, see. Nothing to worry about. It could be a lot of things.” He shrugged. “Maybe they’ve both got personal stuff going on, who knows?”
Shikamaru blinked. “Are you suggesting my parents are fighting?”
Chouji shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s possible. Maybe he’s avoiding your mom for some reason.” He frowned. “Maybe he’s been drinking too much again.”
Shikamaru rolled his eyes. “That’d be a shock. Mom took that pretty hard, and he’s been careful since then.” Shikamaru stretched. “Maybe he’s avoiding me.”
Chouji’s frown deepened. “Why would he be avoiding you?”
“Why would he be avoiding my mom?”
Chouji sighed. “Fair point.” He blinked and tilted his head. “Do you think he’s eating enough?”
“What?”
“Well, if he’s not getting home until well after dinner, and he spends all day at work, he’s probably not getting three square meals. You should bring him a bento to work tomorrow.”
Shikamaru laughed. “Your ability to worry about people’s eating habits always surprises me, Chouji.”
Chouji shrugged. “It’s basically my job, you know. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you don’t eat enough vegetables.”
Shikamaru bumped his foot against Chouji’s. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
Anko tended to not bother with knocking. Either she’d be welcome or she wouldn’t, and she’d find that out by just going in, so why waste the time?
Ibiki clearly hated it, but he’d stopped yelling at her about it years ago, and glaring never deterred her anyway.
Like he was currently doing.
She just grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet. “What’s up?”
“Why are you in my office?”
Anko shrugged. “Bored. Ran out of stuff to do, but Inoichi won’t let me go home early anymore.”
“You used to go home early? And Inoichi was okay with it?”
Anko shrugged again. “He wasn’t hunting me down or anything. For a while, at least.” She scowled. “Haven’t gotten away with it in a while.”
The very corner of Ibiki’s mouth twitched. The closest he ever got to a laugh or a smile. “So why are you here?”
“Don’t you have anything for me to do? It doesn’t even have to be interesting. I could even run reports around if you don’t have anything else.”
Ibiki sighed. “I’ve got nothing.”
Anko blinked. “You don’t even have reports that need delivered? I know those chuunin you have never do it fast enough and they pile up. Come on Ibiki!” she whined, flopping down into the chair across from his desk.
Ibiki frowned. “I’m serious.” He paused. “Inoichi has been delivering them.”
“What?” She fell out of the chair, landing on her elbow. “Ow.”
“Pathetic excuse of a tokubetsu.”
She sat up on the floor, scowling. “In my defense, that’s a completely insane thing you said!”
Ibiki shrugged. “I don’t understand it either. Came to my office three weeks ago just when I was about to leave begging for something to do, and he’s been delivering all of the reports ever since.”
Anko frowned. “What do all of your chuunin do?”
“They’re usually even more bored than you are right now.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not bored anymore. He’s seriously been delivering every single report all over the village on top of his normal workload?” Ibiki nodded, and she whistled lowly. “No way he ever goes home.” She brightened, eyes wide, “Hey, do you think he’s in the doghouse?”
Ibiki’s face was flat. “I don’t speculate on people’s personal lives.”
Anko chose to ignore that, spinning her chair as she spoke. “Maybe his wife’s mad at him, and his punishment is that he has to spend more time at work. Ooh! Maybe he cheated on her!”
Ibiki threw a pen at her. It stuck in her shoulder, and she pulled it out with a mild frown.
“Rude.”
“If you’re just going to speculate about my coworker’s personal life, you can leave. I have actual work to do.” He paused. “Work that I could split with you, if you’re that bored,” he said slowly.
She waved him off. “Is Inoichi out delivering reports right now?” Ibiki nodded. “Oh good, that means his office is empty! See you later!”
Anko jumped up from the chair and ran out of Ibiki’s office, just barely noticing him pinching his nose and sighing as she hurried off to Inoichi’s office.
Yoshino’s semi-monthly lunches with Anri were some of her favorite outings. Occasionally Akimichi Maimi would join them, but it wasn’t uncommon for it to just be the two of them. Like today. They would alternate between Anri’s favorite teahouse and Yoshino’s preferred seafood restaurant, then catch each other up on what was happening in their lives.
At least, they used to catch each other up on their lives.
The last few lunches they’d had mostly centered on what new absurdity their husbands were doing.
“I heard Asuma, who heard from Kurenai, who heard from Anko that Inoichi has been spending all of his time at work doing chuunin-level grunt work.” Yoshino absently stirred her miso soup.
Anri laughed brightly, setting down her cup of tea. “Why am I not surprised? He’s always been terrible at confrontation. He’d do absolutely anything to avoid having a conversation about it with me.” She rolled her eyes fondly.
They both ate a few bites of their food, then Anri spoke up. “You know,” she said, sipping at her tea. “Tsume told me, I think she heard it from Shiranui-kun, that Shikamaru brought Shikaku a bento to work the other day.”
Yoshino chuckled. “He sure did. Needed help making it, that kid is hopeless in the kitchen, but he said he was worried that Shikaku wasn’t eating enough, since he spends so much time at work. He’s been bringing him one every day this week.”
Anri smiled. “That’s thoughtful of him.”
Yoshino shook her head, “It was Chouji’s idea.”
“Ah, of course it was. He’s a sweet boy.”
“Shikaku’s been confused about it, far as I can tell,” Yoshino added.
Anri nodded. “He’s probably eating just fine, since he’s been getting to work so late.”
Yoshino smirked. “You know, I think I’ve gotten just about everything figured out, except what he’s doing between leaving for work and actually getting there.”
“Probably finding some place around the village to take a nap,” Anri suggested.
That startled a laugh out of Yoshino. “I wouldn’t be surprised, knowing that man.”
After a few moments, Anri set her chopsticks down with a clatter and rested her head on her clasped hands.
“Why won’t they just talk to us?”
Yoshino sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but Anri wasn’t done.
“I mean honestly, we’ve been nothing but loving and supportive of them the best way we know how! We don’t hide things, and we’ve stepped up and taken over their duties at home for the last few months. The least we deserve is to be told what’s going on!”
Yoshino leaned her cheek onto her hand. “They’re both smart, capable men, but they’re terrible with feelings. You know it, and so do I. I’m sure they both know, somewhere deep down, that we’d be understanding, but that means having a conversation about it, and they’re terrible at that. Or, at least, Shikaku is.”
Anri nodded. “Inoichi is, too. Still,” she trailed off.
Yoshino leaned back in her seat and frowned. “I wonder if talking about it would make it real, for them.”
Anri tilted her head. “You think they haven’t accepted their feelings for each other yet?”
Yoshino shrugged. “They’re spending all this time away from us, probably out of guilt, but they’re not spending it with each other. If I was wanting to have an affair with you and didn’t want Shikaku to know, I’d avoid him. But I wouldn’t avoid you.” Anri blushed, and Yoshino held back a smirk. “It’s possible they don’t want to acknowledge it for whatever reason, so they’re trying to stay as busy as possible to avoid thinking about it.”
Anri sighed. “They’ve been crazy about each other for years. It’s not like this is new. According to Maimi, Chouza thinks they’ve felt this way since they were chuunin.”
Yoshino shrugged again. “It might be new to them. Maybe they’re just now realizing their feelings are romantic.”
Anri picked her chopsticks back up. “Hopefully they figure it out soon. I’m starting to lose my patience.”
Yoshino snorted. “Hear, hear.”
Shikaku had been walking around the village on his lunch break, trying to clear his head, when he heard the very familiar sound of his wife’s laughter coming from the open-wall tea house that he knew Inoichi’s wife liked. He paused nearby and sent a touch of chakra to his ears, curious. He knew his behavior lately hadn’t been completely fair to his wife, and, if he knew her at all, he figured she’d be telling her best friend about it.
Sure enough, they both had plenty to say about him. And Inoichi, who had apparently been acting much the same.
As the conversation went on, though, he felt his eyes widening.
They both?
For each other?
He had been so sure he was overthinking things, reading too far into every interaction he’d ever had with Inoichi. Didn’t dare get his hopes up.
But, as he shook himself back into the present, eyes wide, and looked around the mostly empty street to center himself, he caught Inoichi’s equally wide eyes, standing on the other side of the teahouse, and he felt a flicker of hope building in his chest.
He sent a small, cautious smile to Inoichi, and, with a stutter in his heart, got one back.