Chapter 35: Rulebreaker

Asuma looked down at the pack of cigarettes in his hand. “Ehh... fuck it.” He ripped off the covering and pulled one out, placed it between his lips and then stood there stupidly for a moment as he realized he didn’t have a lighter. 

“Welp. Katon: Yubi Nagare!” A ludicrous jet of steel melting fire erupted from his index finger, shooting 60 feet into the air and instantly turning 3/4 of the cigarette into ashes. Yeah, that seemed about right for the kind of week he’d been having. Or maybe the kind of month he’d been—“

“Sarutobi Asuma.” A solemn voice behind him intoned. 

“Yyyyyyepp.” Asuma drawled, turning around casually and taking a drag on what remained of his new attempt at stress relief. Standing behind him was an ANBU wearing a neko mask, and behind the mask was conspicuously long and purple hair. 

“Come with me.” The agent said without ceremony. 

“Do I have to?” Asuma asked petulantly. The agent merely stared at him. Asuma heaved out a long sigh, not realizing he would be blowing smoke right at the agent’s face. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Asuma said quickly, and with significantly more control than his fire display called up a breeze to scatter the smoke away. 

“We are late. Let’s go.” The ANBU agent leapt for the roof. 

“You know I was really hoping not to run into any masks today.” Asuma said as he followed the agent across the roofs. She was a lot faster than he remembered her being. 

“And I was having difficulty finding you, until you shot a jet of fire into the air.” The feminine voice responded. 

“Oh right. That.” 

“First time smoking?” 

“Yeah. I suppose the signal flare gave it away?”

“Not really. You aren’t the only one who’s been picking up new stress relief habits these past few weeks.”

Asuma nodded. It was true. The jonin and even some of the chunin now were being run ragged. He had only come back to Konoha at the request of some of his old friends, Yuhi Kurenai in particular, who had told him the village desperately needed more help. Not wanting to dwell on it, Asuma decided to change the subject. 

“Shouldn’t you be henge’d when in uniform? Your hair is uhh… kinda distinctive.” He tried to use a lighthearted tone but was having trouble faking it. 

“If they’d give me a new mask I’d consider it. Not like it would matter for very long. People tend to gossip about Kakashi’s team, and our identities are basically an open secret.” Asuma thought she sounded pretty bitter, and was surprised she wasn’t doing a better job hiding it. I guess she’s having trouble faking normalcy too. Which led right back to the subject he’d been trying to avoid. 

“I didn’t know you’d gotten placed there.” He said hesitantly. “I would offer you congratulations, but I’m guessing if the jonin are stressed then your team must be…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say really. The truth was that Kakashi’s team had already been infamous for pushing people past their mental limit, Kakashi himself being the prime example. Asuma wasn’t sure he wanted to know what would happen if they were pushed even harder. 

Neko was silent for a few seconds. Eventually she said, “Things are… bad. On the border. Right now. Maybe I should take up smoking.” 

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“Don’t.” Asuma said, feeling like a hypocrite. “My excuse is growing up around my dad and grandpa smoking all my life.” 

“Uh-huh.”  

“Speaking of which, I guess that’s where we’re headed?” It was a rhetorical question, as they were already almost at Hokage Tower. Blurs of ninja kept flying out the window. One of them somehow managed to catch his gaze mid-flight, crimson eyes blazing like they always seemed to. He nodded and smiled, trying not to let his spike in adrenaline show on his face. 

 

Moments later they stood in front of Sarutobi Hiruzen, smoking his characteristic pipe, looking twenty years older than the man Asuma had argued with before leaving the village three years ago. 

“Ah Neko-san. Thank you for finding our village’s wayward monk.” His dad smiled at him. 

“Just because I’m friends with monks doesn’t make me one.” Asuma responded slightly too forcefully. 

“Of course, you’re right. I must be getting senile, you already told me that.” His eyes were still twinkling though, and Asuma realized he was just being teased, like his dad used to do so frequently when he was young. Asuma felt the corners of his mouth beginning to curve against his will, making him feel much younger than he was in that way only family can do. It’s good to be back, no matter how annoying he is. 

A few more masks and jonin showed up, and the sandaime grew serious. “New information suggests that in the past 48 hours three new spies have infiltrated the village. I’m enacting emergency protocol 4B. Find them before they can establish themselves securely. Dismissed.” Shunshins started almost immediately, but before Asuma could the Hokage called for him to stay a moment. 

Once they were alone, Sarutobi raised an eyebrow expectantly at him, and glanced down towards the lower half of his face. Asuma was confused for a second before realizing he still had the butt of a dangerously short cigarrette in his mouth. Not knowing what else to do he shrugged. “Your dad smoked too right? Runs in the family I guess.” 

Sarutobi nodded and gave him a forlorn smile. “Yes I suppose so. I was hoping the habit might skip a generation, but I would be a hypocrite to tell you not to. There are days where I don’t think I could have gotten through without it.” 

Asuma glanced towards the small bowl of ashes on the desk and asked, “Do you mind?” 

“No, go right ahead.” 

Asuma pressed the glowing end into the bowl and watched a curl of smoke rise into the air, before stepping back. His father seemed lost in thought, and to Asuma’s surprise seemed even more stressed than he’d been when addressing the room a few moments ago. Or was that sadness?

“Everything ok Dad?” 

It seemed like his dad hadn’t heard him; the old man was shaking his head sideways, not in the way that one might do to indicate ‘no’, but rather in the way one recalls a painful memory. He was muttering to himself quietly, completely lost in thought. If Asuma hadn’t spent so much time with him as a kid he wouldn’t have been able to make out what he murmured. 

“How strange, that I should be reminded of old Sasuke Sarutobi because of my own son, on this of all weeks.” 

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