Intersection

Intersection: (mathematical) - the set of elements that two or more sets have in common.

An allied nation’s request for assistance - recovery of their abducted leader, should have gone straight to ANBU; it was their bailiwick after all, especially because of Akatsuki’s rumored involvement.  But no, it was reclassified a B-rank and pawned off on a three-man cell – that’s how they ended up in this predicament.  

Bureaucratic fools, he hazily thought as Gai shifted beside him.

No sooner than they set foot on Suna’s dunes the mission parameters crumbled like a rusty corkscrew through balsa wood. For veterans like him and Gai, this sort of thing was old hat, yet it gave him a means of measuring the growth and resilience of his team.  From inhospitable desert environs, to the fertile plains of the Land of Rivers, Naruto and Sakura conducted themselves admirably.

Who’d a thunk it?

Progeny of my sensei, sole survivor of the Uchiha massacre and a scrawny, insecure little girl from a civilian family … my team. Damn kids … ganged up on me, I was hoodwinked.  He launched a pebble in midair with his fingers thinking, Little buggers.  Made me care about ‘em … made me wanna protect ‘em outside of missions.

And then one day … they were gone.

Naruto and Sakura went to train with two of the Sannin; Sasuke slunk off, embracing the promise of power offered by the third--  

 “You’re thinking too loudly my rival,” Gai said as he shoved a ration bar under his nose.  “Something you wish to discuss?”

“Nah, just need to stretch my legs.”

“Here … let me help--”

“Gai … that was my polite way of saying I need to take a piss,” he said rising unsteadily. “Fairly certain I can handle that myself.”

“Well if you’re gone too long, I will come looking for you.”

He rolled his eyes as he stood. Great … now he’s my piss monitor.  Cutting through the thick undergrowth gave him something else to concentrate on and as usual, his thoughts gravitated to the new Team Kakashi, the old Squad Seven, minus one; erstwhile students ... turned comrades. No matter how hard he tried not to, he always saw glimmers of Team Minato in those three knuckleheads.  Uchiha Obito, the loud blunderbuss with big dreams was a dark-haired version of Uzumaki Naruto; Nohara Rin, team medic and peacekeeper, a softer spoken, less violent duplicate of Haruno Sakura. And then there was Sasuke, a young man traumatized by great loss early in life, a prodigy with natural talent and a bad attitude – a dolorous reflection of himself.

It always amazed him, the way their hearts had intertwined without him realizing it, the way his faith in them grew … the way his heart shattered into pieces when one by one, they walked away from him.  Sure, he’d overlooked Naruto and Sakura’s delitescent skills -  back then, it was easier to identify with their glum, sarcastic team mate.  Even if he’d paid more attention to the other two, he lacked the means to draw out their talents or the motivation required to nurture them.

He shook his head to clear away thoughts of the past; everything was different now.

He was proud of how they’d grown; a new generation of ambassadors for the Leaf Village.  Nonetheless, forging relationships with them as peers would take getting used to.  Though they understood the depths men would plumb for status or power, they were still naïve, believing there was redemption for the black hearted.  They were too young for inclusion in his circle of friends, too immature to handle glimpses inside his dark past and too inexperienced to act as advisors or counselors to him.  

But this last mission shook everybody to their foundations; challenged their beliefs and rearranged truths they thought they knew of themselves.

For Naruto, it was a personal challenge.

The only person to that point who understood the isolation and experienced the hatred because of the monsters sealed inside their bodies was snatched away during a daring raid on the Hidden Sand village. 

Gaara, the Kazekage,

Gaara, his friend,

Gaara, the seemingly invincible … defeated;

his ultimate defense, breached … his body, spirited away.

The pain clouding Naruto’s bright blue eyes when confronted with the remains of his friend – the moment in time when life’s fragility draped itself over the boy like a pall, was heartbreaking to witness.

Then came a spark of fear in those bright eyes –

the very real fear that he, Naruto and his village, Konoha, might become the next targets of the Akatsuki.

Then came the rage; feral and justified.

For Sakura, it was a professional challenge; the penultimate test of her skills as a medic and shinobi.

When Gaara’s elder brother hovered between life and death and Suna’s medical corps were seconds away from giving up on him, she boldly stepped forward.  Utilizing their primitive facilities and equipment, she dug in her heels, leaned back and spit in the face of death.  When cornered by a ruthless foe, Sasori of the Red Sand . . . a master puppeteer and long range fighter, her strategic and tactical skills came to the fore.  Her speed, fortitude and monster strength combined with the skills of Lady Chiyo, also a puppet master, meant their victory was definitive and bittersweet.  For Lady Chiyo, it was a devastating loss. Sasori … her beloved grandchild, lay dead because of her handiwork.

He peeled away the mask to spit as he leaned against a tree.

Medics. Trained to save lives. They always have a hard time dealing with regret and self-reproach when they’re forced to take a life.

Grief, disappointment, loss, these things were part of shinobi life – adversaries he couldn’t shield them from nor defend them against.  Despite himself, Kakashi was determined to stay the course this time, to wait and watch over them . . . hoping they wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes he’d made.

When he returned to the clearing, the small group was gathering up their belongings.

“Excellent timing, Kakashi! Let us be off ... we must deliver our report to the Hokage without further delay.”

Hefted onto that broad frame without another word, his long arms tightly wrapped around Gai’s neck, his knees were squashed beneath sweaty armpits, as Gai took off running toward the village gates.

Their entrance into Konoha was more comical than triumphant, if the quizzical stares of bug eyed civilians and the knee-slapping ripostes of fellow shinobi were anything to go by.  Kakashi would have laughed too, if every fiber of his being weren’t screaming in agony.

Still he took it in stride ...they were home at last.

And as they drew closer to the Hokage tower, he was thankful for two things more -- Lady Tsunade and her gut instincts.  If she hadn’t dispatched Team Gai, this might have been an entirely different homecoming for him.  His battered body would recover and his bruised ego would survive this latest indignity courtesy of the rejoicing Maito Gai . . . eventually.   With that in mind, he offered up a whispered word of thanks to Bishamonten.

The last thing he remembered was cursing his body’s inability to move away when the back of Gai’s head jerked toward his face.

And then . . . everything went black.

NOTES:

Dolorous: grievous, mournful.

Delitescent: concealed, hidden or latent.

Bishamonten or Tamonten: the god of fortunate warriors and guards, as well as the punisher of criminals.