The trio

On the fourth day of school, halfway through morning reading, Iruka entered the classroom with the roster in his arms.

Its corners were curled and frayed. It had clearly seen plenty of use these past few days.

The air in the back row tightened for half a beat.

Naruto had his hand halfway up when a sidelong look from Sasuke pressed it back down.

"We've put this off for a few days. Today, it's settled." Iruka set the roster on the lectern and read out the first group. "Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Uchiha Kiyoshi."

Naruto froze. Two breaths later, once he was sure his own name was in that string, he whipped his head around, lowering his voice so little he might as well not have bothered. "Yes! Me, Sasuke, and Bro Hao!"

Sasuke faced forward and let half a syllable out through his nose.

Translated, that half syllable meant "hmph."

"Ramen for lunch?" Kiyoshi asked Naruto.

"How'd you know I wanted ramen?!"

"You had it fourteen times last month."

"You even remember that?!"

"Occupational habit."

"You three." Sasuke finally turned his head. "He hasn't finished reading the roster."

"You're talking too," Naruto said.

Sasuke turned back, the tips of his ears a little red.

Iruka continued reading.

After the third group, a girl muttered below the lectern: what kind of combination was that first group? One loudmouth, one cold one, and one with no expression.

Kiyoshi's pen never stopped. He started a new column in his ledger, copied down the three names, and added a check mark after them.

Half a year late. In the original story, this team should have formed last autumn.

Sasuke stared toward the roster for a while, then said very quietly, "Why those two?"

Both the rows in front and behind heard him.

Naruto's fist clenched on the spot. Kiyoshi tapped the back of his hand with his pen and pressed it down.

Kiyoshi knew a thing or two about keeping time.

Once the groups were assigned, the first task followed immediately. Iruka pulled a stack of draw tubes out from beneath the lectern. "This week's teamwork exercises will be assigned by lot. All three of you come up together and practice whatever you draw. Group one, you're first."

Naruto darted up, plunged his hand into a tube, stirred it around three times, and drew a stick, raising it over his head. "Watch my lucky hand!"

"What are you holding it so high for? The stick doesn't care who you are." Sasuke followed him up. "You draw with one hand and steady the tube with the other. You nearly tipped it over."

Naruto looked down at himself: one hand held the stick aloft, while the other cradled the tube against his chest like a baby.

"I already finished drawing."

"And is the next group supposed to draw or not?"

Kiyoshi stepped forward, took the stick, glanced at it, and announced the exercise. "Log carrying."

Log carrying wasn't complicated.

The three of them had to carry a log from one end of the training ground to the other, round two flagpoles, and keep it off the ground.

Iruka's exact words were: how steadily the log moved would show how well they had talked things through.

Naruto shouted, "Go!" and charged ahead with the front end. Sasuke frowned at the other end and doubled his stride to keep up. Kiyoshi was in the middle, his own pace forced to accommodate both ends at once.

Somehow, their first ten steps were in sync.

At the first flagpole, Naruto tried to cut the corner, swinging the front end inward. Sasuke reached out to press it back, using a little too much force.

The log swung sideways across Kiyoshi's shoulder, spinning him halfway around like the pendulum of a clock hanging in a temple.

"Slow..." Iruka had only just brought his whistle to his lips.

They didn't slow. Naruto couldn't stop, Sasuke pulled back too hard, and the two forces collided through the log.

Kiyoshi was lifted off the ground in the middle, then stumbled as the front end dragged him sideways when he landed.

All three went down in a heap, log and all.

The training ground fell silent for half a beat, then laughter exploded. Some imitated Naruto's shout of "Go," others copied Sasuke reaching out to press the log down. Nakajima laughed so hard he couldn't straighten up, slapping his thigh. "What trio? More like a triple tumble!"

[Awkwardness Value +10, current: 510]

Another wave of laughter rose.

Naruto turned to glare at Nakajima, his fist clenching.

"Keeping time was my job." Kiyoshi crawled out from under the log, brushed the dirt off his knees, and glanced toward Nakajima.

His voice wasn't loud, but even those at the edge of the training ground heard it clearly. No one had actually called a rhythm, but coming from Bro Hao, the words became an acceptance of responsibility. Nakajima's jeering caught in his throat. Naruto's clenched fist relaxed, and he turned back to lean close to Kiyoshi, his voice nothing like it had been a few minutes earlier. "Bro Hao, you okay?"

"Yeah."

Sasuke crouched at the other end of the log without looking up. "The log's cracked."

Iruka blew his whistle to cut off the laughter and walked over. He looked at the log, then at the three of them, and held his forehead, speaking very slowly. "You three need to learn to notice each other first."

Then he went to help the next group.

Kiyoshi lowered his eyes. A line of small text appeared before him, visible only to him:

[Hidden quest "Social connection": conditions triggered, evaluating.]

He read it twice, then looked away.

Let it evaluate. Either way, I'm on the team.

After school, Kiyoshi didn't take the riverbank route.

He circled around to the base of the outer wall of the Clan Grounds.

The sun had dipped a little lower, and something new lay along the wall: a swept strip of footprints, coming diagonally in from the alley entrance and spreading along the foot of the wall. The broom marks were so fresh they looked white.

Someone stood here every day.

And before settling in, they swept the ground.

That habit of sweeping had given them away.

He picked a storehouse with a terrace at the edge of the Clan Grounds and climbed onto its roof using a water pipe.

Hokage Rock stood at the other end of the village. The setting sun was falling across the Fourth's face, lighting the edges of the stone red. Layer by layer, the light darkened downward, until only outlines remained by the river.

Cooking smoke drifted up inside the Clan Grounds.

A light came on in someone's window. Children chased a dog through an alley, their laughter striking the walls and bouncing back.

The wind came off the river, cooler now, still carrying the earthy smell of soil baked through by the daytime sun.

Kiyoshi sat at the edge of the terrace and looked toward Hokage Rock.

A longer sentence rolled around in his mouth, but only two words came out.

"Not long."

He held back the rest himself.

He shouldn't put a number to it aloud. Once spoken, it would become a wish.

The sun sank westward, stretching the shadows long.

A human figure stood in the shadow of an alley outside the Clan Grounds, its stance relaxed, backlit, facing into the grounds.

Motionless.

Kiyoshi didn't move either.

He kept his posture turned toward Hokage Rock, holding the figure in the corner of his eye.

The shadow stood there for a dozen or so breaths, then suddenly tilted its head.

Then it withdrew into the alley, disappearing like a drop of ink drawn into a bowl of water.

Kiyoshi sat a little longer, reviewing every detail of that position: backlit, only watching people, not following them, sweeping a strip before taking up a spot.

Last autumn, beneath the eaves diagonally across the street. The same type.

Couldn't get me to come, so they switched to watching.

That night, he opened his notebook.

Today's page was easy to write: team, joined. Log, dropped.

Rhythm, responsibility accepted.

His pen paused at the next line, then wrote: less than half a year.

He left out the word "possibly."

Another line: footprint strip by the wall, swept frequently.

Couldn't get him to come, so they switched to watching.

Last came Shisui's column.

His pen hovered for a long while.

The last time he had said anything, Shisui had wanted to take action that very night.

This time, he intended to watch for himself first, find out what the other side wanted, then decide whom to tell.

The column stayed empty.

Before blowing out the lamp, he noticed a folded note tucked beneath the door.

In handwriting from someone in the clan, it gave a date within the next few days: clan meeting, one representative from each household.

He tucked the note into his ledger and blew out the lamp.

In the darkness, he turned to a fresh page and added one final line in small writing:

Watch first, act later.