Self-Reliance

[copy and pasted from FF.net]



SELF-RELIANCE



Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. I don’t own Sasuke. But it’s OMGITACHI time again.



Summary: Sasuke is still pregnant. He gets a visitor. Chouji tries to be a hero. Naruto tries out-of-species relationships. Konohamaru mopes. And Neji is strangely absent.



Warnings: Featuring NaruSasu angst, mpreg, and IrritatedAndFemme!Sasuke. Don’t like it, don’t read it. Like it, review. Review often. Reviews are my happy crack. If you’re going to flame, at least be witty about it.





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CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Déjà Vu



A/N: Nobody told me that I labeled Chapter Thirteen as Chapter Twelve. I think that’s positive proof as any as to how stressed I was before my conference…gah.



And you know, I keep trying to write a serious, stoic, IwillEatYourBabies!Itachi, but whenever I sit down to do it, he warps somehow and becomes very, very…snarky. So please, for my sake, ignore the OOC-ness. I hold pretty true to the rest of the characters (except for Sasuke…I have Uchiha Issues in general), so do me a favor and forgive this grievance. Remember, even though he’s not all serious, he is still evil. Evilish. Psychotic, if nothing else.



Besides, SnarkyAsHell!Itachi is kinda fun.





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His first reaction was simple wonder, surprise at how profoundly a handful of years had changed him. He’d grown taller, to a respectable height for a man, but by no means overly tall, and he’d matured. The round, doll-like face that had snarled at him in hatred, cast blue by the fistful of screeching chakra he had held, was mysteriously absent. The boy still lived quietly under these new features---a straight nose, long lashes and flared cheekbones, catlike beauty befitting the Uchiha pedigree---but it was hard to find, a dutifully buried inner child.



His eyes traveled down, taking him in one piece at a time, so that the image would stick and stay after the calm had broken and those dark eyes spat hatred once more. The boy slept hard---so hard that he’d warily passed his palm over his mouth, just to make sure he was breathing---and fully. It was a bad way to sleep for a shinobi, a terrible weakness for one of the Leaf Chuunin---anyone else worth their salt would have woken up the moment his chakra had slid into the bedroom like a strange oil, dark and heady. But no, this boy slept on, his dark hair fanned out beneath his head like abstract art with ink. He toyed with a few fallen strands, curling them between his fingers.



He slept because he was exhausted, and he really didn’t blame the younger man for it. He carried an unusual burden, he realized as his swirling red eyes traveled lower, past the curve of his bared neck and the tensed hands that were knotted in the bedcover. He hadn’t believed the rumors at first---and who would have? They were illogical enough to disbelieve on principle---but there was enough evidence here to convince anyone.



He tugged down the comforter, smirking briefly as the dark-haired boy just mumbled in his sleep, far from waking to the clear danger looming over his bedside. Yes, that was evidence enough indeed: his belly was swollen roundly beneath his loose nightshirt, and he didn’t have to run his fingers over the warm flesh to know that it wasn’t some kind of sick genjutsu---the telltale mound pulsed with chakra light, three unnatural pools of chakra that his Sharingan depicted in his ghostly second-sight. Even as he watched, they twisted and moved, nuzzling together in a snug womb as their carrier slept.



Three signatures, not one. That complicated matters, didn’t it?



Pulling the blanket back up so that he wouldn’t catch cold and awaken, he brushed rough fingers against his half-parted lips, remembering idly what they felt like against his back. Piggyback rides were a relic of the past, but he could still remember what it felt like: that smug bow of a childish smile pressed against his back because the boy had refused to voice it, to show it. Even then, he diligently hid his emotions, certain that they’d make their father like him less. It was sad when he thought about it, unfair. The younger man hated him above all else, when it was he who had freed him from their oppressive family, he who had always been kindest. Even if that had been a hoax, one would think that that would have carried on as a spark. But no, his resentment was absolute.



The breath against his fingers was warm and very real, but shallow and choppy. He suffered from nightmares, obviously. His facial muscles and half-clenched hands twitched as he fought some invisible foe, and he moaned something that might’ve been a name.



He slid a gentle hand over his stomach, his calloused palm rubbing with detached reassurance---it was more out of curiosity than need to help the pained boy, curiosity at his reaction---and his choppy breathing slowed, his tight body relaxing again.



Doubly interesting. There had been a day not so long ago that that kind of touch would have woken him instantly, and with a vengeance; he would have maimed the first thing he saw upon awakening with a brutal sort of satisfaction. But now…now such a touch soothed him, calmed him, as if he was used to that familiarity and had learned to crave it.



What had changed, he wondered, perplexed. How could someone so tightly wound have found this---this strange, peaceful place where he could allow himself to lose strength as a shinobi, sleep like the dead with perfect surety in his safety, and carry a burden that ultimately stripped him of his strength and hatred? This---this thing that lay before him, unguarded and untouched, was the result when all that resolution had been siphoned out.



How could he be content with this? They’d both fought so hard for so long in order to attain power, and he had thrown it all away for what? Vulnerability? Frailty? A gut swollen by another man’s seed?



He shook his head, caressing his belly one last time. It wouldn’t do to be hovering above him when he awoke, so he quietly left the bedroom as the first watery rays of sunlight filtered in through the blinds, throwing the calm, childlike face of his younger brother into high relief.





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Sasuke woke up with an explosive sigh, his skin itching unpleasantly. He shivered reflexively---had one of the jounin come down inside the house? He swore he felt the uncomfortable haze of another’s chakra, and he knew damn well that it wasn’t the heat-and-spice of Naruto-Kyuubi’s half-human chakra. He inhaled deeply. The stale air smelt like lavender, pungent and slightly bitter.



Sasuke swallowed. He didn’t like the smell of dark chakra, no matter how calm and soothing it represented itself as. The smell of his own dark seal when activated---lavender and metal, tang and acid. He hated the smell of it now, seeing as it had been omnipresent in the deep snakepit of Orochimaru’s stronghold. He’d been able to taste it in his mouth for months afterwards, even after crawling back into the light and life that was Konoha village. The lavender had faded after a while---worn off him by Sakura’s clean scent of mint and vanilla, or Naruto’s musk and spice.



But dreams alone didn’t bring the scent back.



Someone had been in the room with him, watching him sleep---someone who smelt strongly of dark chakra. Sasuke’s stomach turned at the thought, and he slowly slid out of bed, making sure to mask his movements with silent bare feet. It took effort now, he realized wryly as he tested his feet on the chilled wood floors. It took effort to move noiselessly, to hide his presence---to be a ninja. He didn’t like it---hated it, actually, this weakness and dependency on others---but he couldn’t fight it, either. It was all part of the package deal: tender ankles, aching back, swollen belly, mood swings, nausea, and he wasn’t even counting the dobe…



Sasuke stilled, his breath caught in his throat as he heard the creak and slam of a rusty hinge and a hastily shut door. He froze, mouth suddenly filled with cotton balls, as the sound repeated itself: creak, slam, creak, slam, creak, slam. He took a kunai from where Naruto kept his spares (in the underwear drawer, which probably made a lot of sense to him) and slipped two into the pockets of his sweatpants automatically, his mind buzzing over the possibilities.



Orochimaru? No, he would’ve attempted to molest me, and I may not be the lightest sleeper anymore, but that tongue is enough to wake anyone. Kakashi? It’d be like him to sneak in without permission, but that was lavender, not smoke; I know Kakashi’s chakra, and that wasn’t it. Dammit. I’m being paranoid with the dobe not here---letting my dreams affect the waking world like some child. Corrupt shinobi don’t blend easily, and there’s four jounin on the roof for God’s sake. It’s not just like they can waltz in without at least alerting that…



Sasuke froze in the doorway to the kitchen, kunai poised for attack, the scene set before him enough to make him pause and stammer in a way that went against at least four sub-sections of the Uchiha Clan Codes of Conduct.



“Aniki?” The bewildered question popped out without him even realizing he’d voiced it---the stranger looked over his shoulder in acknowledgment, dark eyes blinking and focusing for a moment to bring him into proper view, and then he shrugged and continued going through the shelves.



“I was hoping for some coffee,” Itachi said absently, looking through the cupboards. “But you don’t seem to have any creamer.”



“I’m not allowed that much caffeine,” Sasuke said, feeling oddly like this was some kind of dream he had yet to wake from. His brother was in his kitchen, rooting around in the cabinets like a junkie with the munchies. It was absolutely surreal: there he was in all his Uchiha glory, relaxed and catlike, his Akatsuki trench-coat draped lazily over the back of a chair, chewing idly on a piece of toast. Itachi had definitely made himself at home. “It’s bad for the babies…and Naruto takes his coffee black with mass amounts of sugar.”



“Which would be like him,” Itachi murmured. “I’m surprised that boy hasn’t gotten into stiffer drugs. I would keep myself well sedated if I carried his burden---or your burden as well, for that matter, though sedation doesn’t come as easily when one is---ah---in your condition, shall we say. Toast?”



Sasuke took the proffered bread slowly, blinking. This had to be a dream. Had to.



“Naruto and the Kyuubi have reconciled. Mostly. On good days.”



“Mmm, that should make splitting them difficult, I suppose. So, when are you due?” Itachi asked, sounding oddly solicitous. “From the information I was given, I was under the impression that you would have nearly given birth by now. Although, considering…” He twirled a couple of lazy fingers, shrugging again. “From the looks of your midsection, you’re about ready to pop something out.”



“I’m due in about two and a half months,” Sasuke admitted, not particularly liking the whole ‘popping out’ comment (he had begun to like that verb less and less since his belly had begun to swell with kits), but not in the mood to correct him into saying anything nicer. It wasn’t as if Itachi cared either way to begin with, and it was just a dream. Pretty soon, a purple monkey would appear out of nowhere with a fistful of helium balloons, and Sasuke’s more lucid self would question what the hell a purple primate was doing in this dream, so he’d wake up. Naruto would have a good laugh over this one when he got back: Itachi drinking coffee? Is Itachi even human enough to eat? Wow, dude, weird thought! “Sometime during the end of July or beginning of August.”



“Near your birthday. Odd that it worked out that way.”



“Yes,” Sasuke agreed, setting on water to boil without really thinking about it---his morning tea had become something of a habit, and not even his brother’s sudden appearance could derail his schedule. He dumped in tealeaves with a distracted air. “Odd.”



Odd that there’s almost exactly forty weeks between his birthday and mine.



“So that’s it, isn’t it,” Itachi murmured, his eyes darkened to their natural state. It was almost bizarre to see him without his omni-present Sharingan; for Sasuke, it brought up troublesome memories of his youth before the massacre, which made dealing with his brother difficult. That Itachi had been a good brother. That Itachi would’ve been happy to be an uncle. But he knew that That Itachi was long since dead. “You found a way out of the box I created to seal our bloodline in. I always knew you were resourceful, but this…this is interesting. You overcame the boundary that only the mother can pass on Sharingan---bravo for your creativity.”



“I wasn’t looking for your approval,” Sasuke deadpanned, slamming down a teacup in front of his brother with enough force to crack it. His mood was becoming strained, but the purple monkey hadn’t appeared yet to wake him up. “I’ve outgrown it.”



“Along with most of your wardrobe, too, I’m sure.” Itachi smirked over his teacup. “You look fit to burst, little brother. I can only imagine how you’ll feel two and a half months from now.”



“Shut up,” Sasuke growled defensively, bracing the small of his sore back with both hands. “I know.”



“And you did this willingly, I’ve heard,” Itachi added, looking down at his purple fingernails. “And, even more interestingly, I’ve heard that it’s the Kyuubi’s child.”



“Children,” Sasuke corrected bluntly. “Triplets. And yes, they’re his and Naruto’s.”



“I’d congratulate you on your choice of a worthy stud---or studs, as the case may be---but you don’t seem to want my opinion anymore. As for your babies, would you like me to use Sharingan to peek in on their darling little chakra signatures?” Itachi asked with false generosity, smiling in the same lazy way that a cat does upon sighting a mouse.



“Don’t you dare,” Sasuke growled, his eyes darkening fiercely. “Don’t you dare touch them. Were parricide, matricide, and patricide not enough, that you’d commit filaricide and infanticide, too?”



“I never have cared for worms.”



This took Sasuke aback.



“What?”



“Filaricide,” Itachi explained calmly. “Is the deliberate murder of worms. I can only surmise that you meant to say fratricide, which is the murder of brothers. A common mistake, I’m sure. Language is a tricky thing.”



“I’m serious, Itachi. There’s no challenge in killing me and my unborn children. You know I can’t fight you like this.”



“I mentioned nothing of killing you. Brother, you think me cruel,” Itachi said, as if deeply wounded.



“No, I think you fucking psychotic. Leave.”



“Foolish, foolish Sasuke,” He laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “I am the eldest! This is my house by right! Never mind that---of course I’m not going to harm your adorable little babies in the very house we grew up in. They are my nieces and nephews, you know, however many of them are crammed into your belly. No, I’m not here to hurt my dearest only brother---”



“I’m your only brother because---“ Sasuke paused. “I guess your killing the clan didn’t affect our ratio of brothers, because I am your only brother. Whether or not I’m dear to you is another issue.”



“Sasuke-kun, I would not hurt you now that you have made yourself so incredibly useful to me,” the elder brother said, and smiled that lazy smile again. “You’ve found an interesting use for you ‘container’. So, does this mean you and the fox-boy are…involved?”



“Hardly,” Sasuke sniffed, even though…even though ‘involved’ was a light word at this point. They’d reconciled; they shared a bed. It didn’t get much more involved than that. Naruto wasn’t there to hear his lie, so Sasuke didn’t suffer for it.



“Oddly, I think you’re lying to me,” Itachi said silkily. “Hell, what am I saying---I know you’re lying to me, little brother. Our bloodline limit serves as perhaps the keenest and most infallible lie detector ever. You’re lying because you want to protect the two of you and this fine haven you’ve created against the real world---a world where he will be mine, and where Orochimaru will have your body.” He paused. “I’m not sure if he’ll be so interested in your body as a vessel once he sees how big and bloated his lovely container has gotten. Or maybe he’ll just enjoy the opportunity to affirm more bodies for himself in the future---he’ll need a new body by the time your children have reached maturity. Our genetics mixed with the Fourth’s isan---it should provide him with interesting hosts, don’t you think?”



This isn’t a dream, is it? Oh fuck, Itachi’s in the kitchen and Naruto is in another country…shit, shit, shit.



Though the ninja in him quailed, the maternal instincts in Sasuke had heard more than enough.



“Get out!” Sasuke howled, his eyes narrowed dangerously and a protective hand splayed against his child-heavy middle.



“You believe that you can force me to leave in the condition you’re in?” Itachi asked. “You can hardly meet me equally even when you’re in your top form. What makes you think anything’s changed?”



“You heard him,” a voice said, though it wavered. “Get out.”



Akimichi Chouji took up the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. The only thing about the ninja that was even remotely imposing was his sheer size; he literally filled the door, a head and a half taller than both the Uchihas and at least twice as wide. His glare was firm and his chin was set, but Chouji knew better than any what his chances were against Uchiha Itachi. He could have fallen to pieces right then and there, but somebody needed protecting and an Akimichi simply couldn’t let that pass.



Itachi snorted, sipping his tea.



“So you’re going to stop me from gutting my little brother two and a half months shy of full term?” the missing-nin queried in a tone that clearly said he thought this whole thing was meant to be a joke.



Chouji paled, all white face and bright red spiral tattoos.



“I think so,” Chouji said in a tiny voice completely out of place on such a large man.



“Not very convinced, I see,” Itachi murmured. “I can only assume that you’re an Akimichi...you’re a fairly recognizable group.”



The big ninja flushed at that---childhood jibes of fatass never had lost the strength of their sting---and he straightened, clearing his throat.



“Please leave Konoha, Uchiha-san, or I will fight you.”



“Definitely an Akimichi,” he drawled, sounding bored. “Going into fights where they are clearly outclassed, and then relying on suicide pills to get them through. Depressing tactics, really. I can’t believe you’ve sunk so low as to allow someone like him to protect you, Sasuke. Are you really so weak that you have to rely on the spawn of a clan famed only for their girth?”



“The Akimichi clan,” Chouji said in a soft, firm voice. “Is known for having the kindest hearts, something I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate or understand. I challenge you on Sasuke-san’s behalf because he’s my friend, and I won’t allow you to harm him or his triplets in my presence.”



Sasuke himself had to blink at Chouji. Where had that resolution come from? Friends? They were friends? Either he had missed something, or Chouji’s definition of friend was a very loose concept indeed.



Itachi smirked.



“Things have changed since I saw you last, little brother. I thought that you, like me, were above these frivolities, but you’ve proven me wrong once again. Tell your bear to back down---all threats on the lives of my remaining family members has been construed by your own willingness to see me as vicious.” His smirk deepened, and he put his trench-coat back on, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Not that I’ll ever dissuade you on the matter, of course.”



“Leave,” Chouji repeated firmly, louder.



And, surprisingly, Itachi did. He was there one moment and then gone the next, gone without pomp or poof or glitz. He hadn’t fought his way past the Akimichi or had even activated his Sharingan; for Sasuke, that only added to his confusion.



“I can’t believe I said that,” Chouji half-whimpered, collapsing into a chair. He was shaking visibly, beads of sweat standing out on his face, and he wiped at them embarrassedly with the end of his scarf.



“Neither can I,” Sasuke admitted a little wonderingly. “What possessed you that you could possibly take on Uchiha Itachi?”



“Well,” he said fairly, shrugging a bit. “It’s not like you could fight him on your own, and Naruto asked me to look out for you. It’d be against my way of the ninja to turn away when I felt Itachi’s presence in here. That’d make me a coward.”



“That’d make you smart,” Sasuke argued. “Itachi could have killed you with his eyes closed.”



“But he didn’t,” Chouji said with all the blind optimism of an Akimichi. “And I don’t feel his chakra anymore---you don’t feel it either, do you?”



“No, but---“ Sasuke never really understood optimism, especially the kind that people like Chouji and Naruto had. It was illogical, it was impairing, it was just---he hated to borrow another genius’s catchphrase, but it was just troublesome.



“Well, I’m fairly sure he left for real,” said Chouji, unruffled. “We should report the missing-nin sighting to Godaime-sama, and then we should just start training again. You’re not allowed to stress, remember?”



Sasuke had to bite back a howl of My homicidal elder brother broke into my house and threatened the lives of my unborn children, and I am supposed to be calm and collected about it because I’m not ALLOWED to stress? Goddamn this pregnancy…nobody told me there’d be so many rules…



“Alright,” Sasuke said finally, tetchily. “But not yet. The jounin will undoubtedly want to scour the premises on the off chance that Itachi tripped any of the traps or left behind evidence…and I hope to God Kakashi asks to be assigned here again, because those four up on the roof right now are useless.”



“And probably dead,” Chouji added, still pale.



“That too,” Sasuke said, and offered him a cup of tea. “More’s the pity. Tea?”



Sometimes, Chouji forgot that beyond everything else, Itachi and Sasuke were still related. They drank their tea, reported to the Godaime, and were flagged down by Sakura in all her Inner Sakura-come-Outer Sakura wrath.



The moment Sakura heard that Uchiha Itachi had made an unexpected appearance before breakfast, she lapsed into hysterics. She demanded---not asked, not demurely suggested, demanded---an immediate checkup on Sasuke and his triplets, to make sure that her teammate wasn’t fibbing about how hands-off the missing-nin had been. Sasuke was slowly realizing that Naruto had every single nin in the village under his thumb; he’d asked for his friends to watch over his mate in his absence, and they were following his wishes to the very letter. If people followed him like this, Sasuke would almost admit that he’d make a decent Hokage, in the unlikely event that he actually got nominated…



Sakura had him on an examination table and reciting what he’d eaten in the last three days before Sasuke could blink. She’d grown from the wishy-washy pink-haired would-be kunoichi of his early teens; that was for damn sure. Now, her expression fierce and her arms crossed over her ample chest, Sasuke almost feared going against her wishes. She’d doctor him within an inch of his life, no doubt.



And, unfortunately for Sasuke, Sakura was not liking what she was seeing. She didn’t like the tenseness of his back and shoulders, his surreally pale skin (and to say an Uchiha was looking pale was like saying a ghost was looking under the weather), the bruise-dark smudges beneath his eyes, and, above all else, the fragility of his wrist when she checked for his pulse. Yes, Sasuke was meant to be thin. No, Sasuke wasn’t meant to look like a famine victim. All the prods in the right direction, the progress he’d been making towards a healthy pregnancy, had spluttered and died the moment Naruto had left.



Sakura knew he was worried; she’d watched him for enough years to know when Sasuke truly had a weight on his mind, aside and above from the constant nags of I’ve got to kill my brother, I must avenge my clan, and, the loudest and most persistent, I must get stronger. But to let himself get this way…to put not only his own body in jeopardy, but the lives of his unborn triplets…she’d hoped that he had more common sense than that.



“It looks like Itachi really did leave you alone,” Sakura said, sitting down in a swivel chair with a loud sigh. “What happened to his mantra of death, death, maiming, and death?”



“Maybe he got tired of spree killing,” Sasuke muttered listlessly.



“And the real probability of that happening is…?”



“Admittedly low,” he said, running a hand through his tangle of dark hair. “But he---he didn’t try to menace me. He was unarmed, and his Sharingan was inactive, much less Mangekyou-Sharingan. The intent to kill was not there---hell, the only intent he had was to find non-dairy creamer. He left when---get this---Chouji threatened him.”



“Sounds unreasonably chipper for Itachi,” Sakura said, brow wrinkled in thought. “’The hell did he want, if he wasn’t there to off you and the babies when Naruto wasn’t there for protection?”



“I’d like to know that myself, but I’m not going to take his sudden chirpy attitude to mean I can leave my doors unlocked at night. He’s still an enemy. The enemy, as far as I’m concerned.”



“I know, but Sasuke-kun, you can’t keep brooding about this. You have to let it go for the babies’ sakes---you can’t stress out.”



“I seem to be getting that a lot lately,” Sasuke said with a glower, getting back up to leave. He smothered his wince as his back protested the movement---it was the last thing he needed his overprotective medic-nin to see.



“Sasuke-kun…” Sakura said gently, her hand on his shoulder. “If the stress is affecting your ability to carry the babies, I can give you something for it. Something mild…something that will calm you down until he gets back.”



“Are you suggesting drugging me up?” Sasuke asked, an edge to his tone. His eyes were flat as pond water. She knew that look: he was angry and insulted, perhaps even a little hurt. She wouldn’t have put it past his newly hormonal self to harbor that kind of array of emotions, even if he didn’t express them outwardly.



“Sasuke, it might be what’s best,” Sakura said entreatingly. “You’re starting to look ill again. Losing weight, losing sleep, missing meals…you can’t go on like this if you want to keep your babies well. A couple weeks of this could be irreversible for both your health and theirs.” She paused, her voice wavering slightly. “Mostly theirs.”



“They’ll be fine,” he said tightly, in a voice that forbade negotiation. “Kyuubi’s chakra will keep them healthy enough.”



“Kyuubi’s chakra won’t help you keep them to term,” she said strictly. “Kyuubi’s chakra won’t increase their birth-weight. Kyuubi’s chakra won’t keep you from two months in a hospital bed because of malnutrition and the strain of carrying triplets in a body like yours!”



Sasuke’s jaw worked, but he didn’t say anything.



“If you’re so worried about him, why didn’t you see Naruto off?”



“Oh fuck,” Sasuke muttered flatly. “You want to talk about him, don’t you?”



“Yes, I want to talk about him,” Sakura replied waspishly. “You’re getting too worked up. Stop worrying about the idiot; it’s not as if he’s going off to war or anything. He’s making you sick. Stop it.”



“We fought before he left,” he said shortly, as if that explained it all---which it did, really. He slid back into his sandals as gracefully as he could, considering he couldn’t see his feet.



She sighed. “Over what? Or should I say---over what this time?”



“He didn’t want to leave. I told him he had to leave. He asked if I wanted him to leave. I told him I wanted him to put the village ahead of me; he’s shinobi, a jounin---he should know better.”



“Naruto has his own priorities,” Sakura said, though she felt that Sasuke should know that better than anyone.



“And they aren’t exactly the best priorities,” he replied crossly.



“What, you want him to care more about a village that made his childhood hell than you and his own children? You know Naruto. You know him. Even when you were just rivals, he always put you first, and now that you---“ Sakura gestured vaguely, not needing to say now that you’re his mate, now that you’re pregnant. “He can’t help it, Sasuke. He’s overprotective by nature. Too long without a family made him---you know, kind of overcompensating.”



“He wants to get to Hokage. He’s not going to be able to do that the way he’s going now. I almost think he wants to turn civilian, to drop out of missions to take care of his children.”



“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Sakura agreed, drumming one nail on her lip. “But I doubt Kyuubi would let him. He needs a little bloodshed now and again, or he’d be unmanageable for you. How is he, by the way? Has Naruto been keeping him in check?”



Sasuke just snorted, which Sakura wisely decided not to pry into.



“If you stop bugging me about Naruto, I’ll eat as much as you want me to,” Sasuke said, giving her a dark glare that would have been a lot less pathetic had he not looked so exhausted. “You can monitor if you don’t believe me.”



Sakura sighed, nodding again.



“It’ll only be a little longer, won’t it? Until he gets back, I mean.”



“Depends on how he’s doing,” Sasuke said in a tone he tried to make sound nonchalant, but which really sounded a bit weary. “Depends if the idiot can actually do this mission on his own, with the negligible help of an underage pervert and a wife-whipped genius.”



“He’ll be fine,” Sakura said gently. “And we’ll make sure you are, too. Naruto wouldn’t forgive me if I let you get sick with him gone…”



Sasuke shrugged and left before she could force anything else unpleasant on him.



Chouji was waiting for him on the back porch, looking as if he’d been practicing for a good hour or so on his own. He was sweaty and worn-out, panting for a moment’s reprieve in female form. If Sakura or Ino could see him, they would have undoubtedly made objections; he was too well-endowed to go around without a bra, and he’d worked hard enough that sweat stuck his shirt to his back and between his breasts. The girls would have thrown tizzy fits, but Sasuke knew for a fact that it took a lot to take the masculinity out of a male, even if he was currently female. Chouji quirked a weary grin at the Uchiha as he made his way through the back gate, waving a few fingers at him in greeting.



“How was the appointment with Sakura-san?” Chouji asked amiably, running a hand through his sweaty blond hair.



“She yelled at me, threatened me, and made attempts to cuddle me,” said Sasuke. “Which are the staples of any conversation I have with her. She also told me that unless I gain more weight, I’m going to be stuck in a hospital bed. Fantastic prospects for my next two months…”



“Oh,” said Chouji, getting to his (her? Sexy-no-jutsu tangled up pronouns like it was nobody’s business) feet. “That---um---reminds me. I’ve got something for you. I---I probably should have brought it by earlier, but I didn’t think of it before. I should’ve, though. I was going to give it to you earlier, but…we kinda got distracted.” Most people would have added the obligatory by your psycho older brother, but Chouji had more tact than people gave him credit for. Rummaging through his jacket---discarded halfway through his training exercise due to late-spring heat and the strain of chakra slides---he pulled out a bottle of something sweet-smelling.



“What’s this?” Sasuke asked dubiously, blinking at the bottle.



“Um, the Akimichi family and the Naras have done collaboration work in the past---a lot of Naras have been researchers and medic-nin, like Shikamaru’s father. And the Akimichis are known for knowing our food, so when you put those together, you get this. It’s a bounce-back for the ninjas who survive the pepper-pills…um…helps the injured nin gain back a healthy level of weight. Dad and Shikaku put this together when I was sick after…after we tried to get you back from the Sound nin, actually.”



“And it works?” Sasuke asked suspiciously.



Chouji grinned, patting his stomach. “Well, it certainly got me back to my usual round self. Since you don’t need to gain that much, I’d say if you had a couple spoonfuls in your morning tea, it should get you out of the danger zone by the time Naruto gets back. Oh---and don’t worry, it tastes fine. A lot like honey. We Akimichis make sure that our medications not only work, they also taste good.”



“I’ll try it,” the Uchiha said. His dark eyes flicked up from the perusal of the bottle, and Chouji swore he saw them warm a bit, if only briefly. One could never be sure of any of Sasuke’s emotions, unless he was rampant with rage. You had to hazard guesses when it came to everything else.



“Good,” said Chouji. He stretched, and sighed. “So, am I doing this right? I think I’m getting closer to a full slide, but I can’t really tell…”



“You’ll know once you’ve got it. You’ll feel heavier inside, due to equipment being in there that is not quite usual in a male body.”



“Ah,” the bigger ninja said, scratching at his wild mane of sweaty hair. “I’ll try again, I s’pose…”



Chouji got back to his slides---he’d start female, slowly go male, almost reach it, lose the hold, curse, and go back to full-female again---and Sasuke watched him for a while, mentally critiquing. Honestly, he was doing better. The transition was smoother, the hold better, and Sasuke almost had to be jealous at the sheer amount of chakra he had, to be able to try again and again, when he himself had had to take breaks between each individual slide. Like Naruto, Chouji was a stamina fighter, and possibly the best equipped to make this altered jutsu work without complications. He just needed to get it down---to master the slide, back and forth, so that altering the scale of the jutsu became second nature. Since Chouji’s determination did not wane (Sasuke inwardly wondered if Ino deserved such a resolute man, eager and willing to make up for this one fault of her own), Sasuke found himself bored after an hour or so, so he decided to do some training of his own.



Had Naruto been there, he would have instantly thrown a fit and probably would have belted him down on the couch again. Thankfully, he was not, so Sasuke was able to go through one of the gentler katas mired in his memory banks in relative peace. It wasn’t unduly physical, mostly comprised of slow, fluid movements that worked chiefly with the way chakra moved through the arms and torso. Sasuke relaxed and allowed himself to take it lower, concentrating on the lines of chakra that were deepest at his core. He closed his eyes, feeling the circulation of his chakra quicken, brightening as it was exercised. It was nearly impossible to train with Naruto around---impossible to get past his newly-heated protective streak---but it honestly did help. When he just sat around all day doing nothing, his chakra systems bogged down, sluggish, and his chakra was intrinsically connected with the growth of the triplets.



Chouji stopped his slides for a moment to watch the Uchiha, impressed by the gracefulness of his kata despite his obvious ‘handicap’. He seemed calm and collected, his eyes closed, his long sleeves rolled up to his elbows so that they didn’t hamper his movements. He didn’t know why Sasuke was so partial to long-sleeved shirts, but he had a feeling that it was probably connected to the wicked-looking snake-summoning tattoo burned into his left forearm. Sasuke couldn’t strip off his old ties to Orochimaru---the heaven seal and the snake-summons---but he never made any mention of them. To the best of Chouji’s knowledge, he even refused to use them, which either made him repentant or haughty. Or, knowing Sasuke, both.



“Sasuke-san, that looks like a Juuken kata,” Chouji said carefully, sitting down on the edge of the porch for another rest.



“That’s because it is a Juuken kata,” Sasuke said equably, not missing a beat in his liquid movements.



“Does the Hyuuga clan know you’ve stolen their taijutsu?”



“They showed it to me during battle, and anything’s fair game for Sharingan. Uchihas are the plagiarists of the ninja world, Akimichi. My favored taijutsu is too strenuous to pull off in my current state, so I decided to use the Hyuuga clan’s style until I’m back to my normal form.”



“Ah,” said Chouji, and tactfully left it at that. He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I really wish I could get this to work. It’s just---just so frustrating.”



“Do you know what helped me hold the jutsu at first?” Sasuke asked, not stopping his kata or opening his eyes. Chouji blinked, twining his fingers together over his knees, and nodded. “I’ve always known I was meant to restart my clan. My brother went out of his way to make this difficult for me, and I had to stoop to things I’d rather not mention to carry out the task. But during it all, I kept several thoughts going in the back of my mind. One, accomplishing my mission meant that I would have a family again, even if it was only my child and myself.”



“You didn’t think Naruto was going to stay with you?” Chouji asked, his surprise evident.



“No,” said Sasuke, and did not embellish any further before going on. “But I kept thinking about this child I would bear, making it an incentive for me to hold the jutsu. I tried imagining what it would look like, how it would act, what I would name it. I made it a reality for myself, and the jutsu quickly became less of an impossibility and more of a means to an end---the end being the entrance of the child into my life. Of course, I never imagined myself carrying three children in these mental scenarios, or that I would have the blond idiot fawning over me, but life is surprising that way. Or cruel and sadistic. It’s a tossup.”



Chouji stared at Sasuke for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around Sasuke not only feeling obligated to have children (that was a given), but wanting children and actively imagining them as a tactic in beating the difficult slide needed to maintain the pregnancy.



“Just so you know, if you repeat what I’ve just said to anyone, I will hunt you down and kill you, Akimichi Chouji,” Sasuke drawled, opening one dark eye and glaring menacingly.



Chouji gulped. “I thought as much,” he said, all warm feelings suddenly slit at the throat.



“Keeping that in mind,” Sasuke advised, finishing his kata and settling himself on the steps for a rest. “Try again.”



Chouji took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, throwing together a brief bevy of mental images, and formed the proper seals. His Sexy-no-jutsu form came easily, and he almost immediately began the slide back, juggling the inner and outer aspects of the jutsu with far more grace than his first days of practice had yielded. Sasuke almost thought he had it, but the loud, inelegant pop near the end heralded a busted jutsu. It left a very weary, very irritated Chouji fully male. He looked like he didn’t know whether he should be angry or crestfallen, and just came off kind of sullen.



“We’ll try again,” Sasuke advised, shaking his head. “You’re straining your chakra as is. Save your energy for tomorrow’s training.”



“I’ll think about what you said,” Chouji agreed, sighing. “Maybe I’ll come up with a better mental picture or something. Uh---remember to take that tonic, alright? It really will help, and that’d get Sakura-chan off your case.”



“I will,” Sasuke said, getting to his feet with the help of a rail post. He rubbed the small of his back with his knuckles, hating that it already felt pinched and he was only halfway through the morning.



It was going to be a long, long day.





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Naruto was gleefully secretive about his Plan B. He announced that they would be setting up camp in the woods---which made sense, seeing as they didn’t want to be seen in the city any more than they had to be until they got a general idea of where Hanabi might be---but it was a full two days before he divulged any of his plan to his teammates.



Being young and inquisitive, Konohamaru tried his best to figure out what the blond was doing. Honestly, though, the only productive things he seemed to be doing were the long walks he was taking through the forest during the early mornings and evenings, and the scraps of meat he was leaving at the edges of their campsite. If Naruto was trying to get them nearly killed by rabid raccoons and the occasional bear, he was pulling that off beautifully. In fact, Neji refused to talk to the other jounin until he stopped leaving out offerings to the fauna, but Naruto pointed out that he didn’t talk much anyways, so the point was moot. He kept putting out slices of meat with a surreptitious air, and Neji continued his silence.



His plan became apparent on the third day, when he and Naruto were taking the long loop walk around the campsite and a small ball of bright red fur shot across their path, a mouse clamped firmly in its jaws. Konohamaru had been about to comment about it being odd to see a fox, considering the high trade in their fur, but Naruto distracted him by yipping suddenly, sounding cheerful.



It distracted the fox, too. The dead mouse tumbled out of its mouth as it froze mid-leap, tensing into a shocked ball with large triangular ears and a bushy tail. It blinked yellow eyes at them, as if it wasn’t sure if it should run or come nearer.



Naruto barked again, hunkering down on his heels, and extended a hand towards the fox, palm up. To Konohamaru, the sounds that were issued from his team leader’s mouth were nothing short of animalian; to the fox, it was a pleasant greeting of “Hey. I’m Kyuu. Nice ta meetchya.”



“Konkon,” the fox replied warily, taking a step closer. She sniffed, testing his scent, and frowned. “You things can talk?”



“Some of us,” Naruto agreed. “Eh…actually, it’s probably just me. I’m kinda special.”



“Obviously,” Konkon drawled in a way that reminded him chillingly of Kyuubi.



“Um, yeah. So hey, can I ask you a coupla questions, Konkon-chan?”



“You might as well,” the fox said, nodding shortly. “I’ve never had the chance to talk to one of you things. You smell very nice---like one of us.”



“I’m an unofficial fox,” Naruto said, and she laughed.



Konohamaru, of course, missed all of this. He stared blankly at Naruto (still going off in yips and growls), and shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs.



“What are you…you aren’t talking to him, are you?”



“’Maru,” Naruto muttered in an undertone, as if afraid that the fox would get offended. “Her name is Konkon, and it’s obvious that she’s a girl. Be quiet a sec, will ya? Animals pick up on chakra really easily, so I wanna see if any of the foxes have seen Hanabi. Most of the foxes live in the slums because of their habitat being taken over an’ stuff, and they haven’t got the same biases that humans do.”



“This is what you’ve been looking for? Animals? You never told me you could speak to animals,” Konohamaru said, sounding strangled. “Any more surprises you’d like to share, aside from your ability to get dudes pregnant and yip like a freakin’ animal?”



“Not all animals,” he replied cheerfully. “Just foxes. They like me.”



“Gee,” Konohamaru said loudly. “I wonder why.”



“I think the whelp’s a bit on the edgy side,” Konkon observed, blinking wide golden eyes at the humans. She pouted at Konohamaru’s expression---some sorts of loathing crossed even across the walls between species---and gave Naruto a long, knowing look. “Got in a tussle, did he? Bites always make me irritable.”



“Somehow, I don’t think it’s ‘cause his ass is bit,” Naruto whispered to the fox in an undertone---as if anyone else could understand or eavesdrop in on their conversation to begin with. “Probably it’s the lack of ass-biting, if you know what I mean. Young males are like that.”



“Ah,” the fox said knowingly, and then dissolved into yipping laughter, making Naruto crack up as well, seeing as she fell onto her back, paws twitching, eyes squeezed shut as she squealed. Of course, all Konohamaru heard was a tangled line of eerie, high-pitched barks, sounding nothing like the laughter the two were actually sharing.



“Seriously, though, we’ve got to find this girl, Konkon-chan. She ran away from her own territory, and we’re afraid that she’s going to cause trouble if she’s allowed to roam. Any way you can help?” She paused, blinked again, and then swished her tail thoughtfully.



“Might you come back when I’m in heat if I say yes?” she asked hopefully, and Naruto winced. She was…hitting on him. An animal was hitting on him. Now it was Kyuubi’s turn to burst into peals of perfectly nasty laughter.



Just reek of hormones, don’t you, brat? Not even this little bitch can resist you---what will our bitch say when he finds we entertained a whore and a kit on the same trip? Especially with him so far into whelp, pining for us as our kits grow within him daily…what a bastard you are.



You think I’m TRYING to attract them? Naruto snapped back, turning a little green at the shared image of triplet-heavy Sasuke soundly trouncing his ass for having a---and here, the term was something of a joke---wandering eye? When he illustrated things, Kyuubi always added too much blood into his artistic representations…Naruto didn’t think his body had that much blood in it, and the kitchen floor certainly wouldn’t be flooded with it…and did his spleen really look like that?



Even if he had no idea what his team leader and the fox---or foxes, as the case currently was---were talking about, the look on Naruto’s face was enough to make Konohamaru snigger softly. He smothered it in one hand, purposefully getting out Icha Icha Piracy and sticking his nose in it.



“I---er---Konkon-san,” the kyuubi-boy said very carefully, pinkening at her eager expression of girlish glee---so very female, he now wondered how Konohamaru could have possibly taken her to be male at first glance. “I…I already have a mate in whelp with three fine kits on the way. I’m sorry, but I’m taken.”



“Oh,” said the fox, her triangular ears and sandy whiskers drooping slightly. “Well I…suppose that our species are a little distant to begin with, even if you’re a dear tod that only looks like one of those lanky, hairless things---could I have a…um…?”



With a slight grin, Naruto hunkered down next to the fox, giving her furry red cheek a short lick. She preened, nuzzling him appreciatively, and Naruto decided that Sasuke should be absolutely jealous over how much flirty attention the vulpine was giving him. She twined one bottlebrush tail around his wrist, licked his whiskered cheek back, and leapt back into the bushes with a high yip of “I’ll see what I can find out, Kyuu-kun!”



“That,” Konohamaru said in varying tones of disgust as Naruto got back to his feet, making odd expressions as he pawed red fur from his tongue. “Was just eew. You take animal magnetism way, way, waaaaaaaaay too far, dude.”



“You’re just jealous,” Naruto grinned.



“Jealous of your furry fans?” Konohamaru echoed, grimacing. “Hell no. Although I am going to tell your boyfriend about this, by the way.”



“That seems to be everyone’s new favorite threat,” Naruto muttered, sighing. “’I’m gonna tell your slightly homicidal pregnant boyfriend on you’. I guess I only wish that threat wasn’t so effective and terrifying…”



“Don’t know why you ended up with that bastard anyway,” Konohamaru said in a tone that he had meant to sound blasé, but which had its icy edges. Naruto blinked, taken aback at the sudden hostility, and he grabbed the boy’s wrist as he turned to stomp back towards camp.



“What is your problem, ‘Maru?” the jounin demanded, bewildered. “Ever since I got back from my last mission, you’ve been pissed at me, and I can’t figure out why the hell I deserve it. Yeah, I’m with Sasuke. You’ve got an issue with that?”



“You can do better!” Konohamaru snapped finally, hectic spots of color rising on his pale cheeks. “Sakura, or Hinata, or even that fox---they liked you! They treated you nicely! He---he fights with you, yells at you, treats you like dirt---!”



“That’s just Sasuke,” Naruto said, shaking his head. “He’s not all that bad. He does love me, but he’s---complicated.”



“Complicated?” Konohamaru barked, the rise of the question almost breaking with his pubescent voice. “Try masochistic, bad-tempered, sociopathic---he’s just going to smother you in your sleep one night, and then you can’t come running to me sayin’ ‘Maru, you’re right, ‘cause you’ll be dead, Naru-nii, dead!”



“It’s not like that---“



“Yes it is! It’s just like that!”



“He has my kits!” Naruto replied sharply. “You think I can just let that go?”



Konohamaru’s expression fell. His dark eyes widened slightly, and he gaped, taking a step back.



“You’re only with him because---?”



“Not only because of his pregnancy,” Naruto said softly. “That’s part of it, though. That’s---that’s how it started, at least. He’s my responsibility, him and his babies, and it’s lucky that I do genuinely like him. I don’t expect you to understand it, ‘Maru, ‘cause I don’t always understand it myself, but I’d hoped that as my friend…” His eyes hardened, a look that Konohamaru had never been the object of before. He’d seen Naruto angry plenty of times---in his foxy play-angers and in his true rages as well, though the first was sunny and mocking and the latter burnt like lit cigarettes. But Naruto had never been angry at him, and this was neither playful or raging---it was simply, profoundly cold. “I’d hoped that you’d respect it.”



Konohamaru felt thoroughly chastised. He bit his lower lip---so hard he swore he tasted blood---and looked away, his throat tight and unyielding to the passage of words, or, more importantly, apologies.



Naruto gave him one last look---and below the mask of anger and the skein of coldness lay a sadness Konohamaru didn’t even dare touch---and made his way back to camp alone.



It was a long time before Konohamaru could follow him. He sighed, stuck Icha Icha Piracy into his back pocket, and took the long way back.





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Another omake (that’s not exactly an omake, ‘cause it’s not really all that funny, but it is cute and it has Shika and peanut butter. I think you know my thoughts on Shika and peanut butter), even though it completely clashes with the tone of this chapter’s end. Hehe. Shikamaru is going to get quite the shock pretty soon. As a sidenote: yes, it is ShikaChoIno, and not just ChoIno. It was supposed to be a surprise, but then I wrote “Teddy” and “On Sandwiches and Security Blankets”, which tie into the Self-Reliance universe, so…yeah. I love ShikaChoIno soooooo much---almost more than NaruSasu (shockgasphorror), but I seem to be the only one writing it. If anyone has found another team ten threesome fic (or will write one to appease me), tell me and I will love you forever and ever.



OMAKE SPECIAL PART TWO: Shikamaru and Chouji



“So, how was your day?” Chouji asked cheerfully, settling down next to Shikamaru on the couch. His former teammate rolled his eyes, yawning.



“Terrible,” Shikamaru muttered, as blunt and honest as usual. “We just started work on replication techniques, and I honestly have to wonder if ninja talent diminishes through the years. Most of the brats pulled off replications that looked like unsalted fish, much less copies of themselves. Thus ensued a riot, because they decided on a whole that, by making them practice a new technique, I was an absolute dictator. There are days where I’m glad that Ino has had problems having children---I wonder if the little beasts are worth it. How about you?”



“Oh, nothin’ much,” the big ninja said, shrugging. “Just stuff.”



Shikamaru gave him a sideways look; Chouji looked far too smug about something to have done just ‘stuff’ all day. “You worked in the flower shop, then?”



“No, no, I kept busy,” Chouji said, shaking his head and grinning a bit. “Um…Sasuke showed me how to turn into a woman---I have a double-D cup, by the way---and I challenged Uchiha Itachi to a life-or-death battle. You know. Usual day.”



Shikamaru paused, blinked, and got to his feet.



“…I’m going to go make a peanut butter sandwich,” Shikamaru said slowly, a hand to his forehead in order to ward away a headache. He grimaced. “When I get back, could this possibly be a sane, Itachi-free zone again?”



“Well, you know, Shika, that reminds me. Ino and I, um…there’s this thing we need to discuss. The three of us. As a team.”



The schoolteacher rubbed his forehead again. He wasn’t winning the battle against his headache.



“As a we-were-once-genin-team, or a we-share-a-bed-team?”



“Both. And possibly as a I-love-you-both-and-we-need-to-discuss-our-future-team.”



“That’s not a valid kind of team. That’s you attempting to be witty and failing. I have a feeling I’m not going to like this troublesome ‘thing’ up for discussion,” Shikamaru growled, glaring. “Can it wait?”



“Mm, yeah,” Chouji said with a warm smile, making his teammate heave a sigh and shuffle to the kitchen trailing mutters. He stretched out on the couch, smiling absently at the ceiling. “Don’t worry. It can wait nine months or so.”





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A/N: Short chapter, I know. I have two agents who want to see my two-chapters-shy-from-being-finished manuscript, and you can imagine that kinda takes precedence over fanfiction. Next update will occur once I get stuff shipped out to various agents…maybe two weeks or so.



Review. Please. The next chapter is going to be a doozy. Watch out for ninjas playing CSI.