[open; 01/19-01/23]

[not_thedragon]

Who: Sasuke and compadres
When: Week of January 19th
Where: Around town; mostly training fields, various offices, or slipping in and out of the village gates.
Notes: [See top-levels!]

Comments

[01/19; open to anyone with Archives clearance]

[not_thedragon]

Sasuke had grown to appreciate the culture of T&I a great deal over the past few weeks. The team Obito assigned him had proved stunningly efficient, the disparate team of specialists falling into place like gears in a well-oiled machine. The two information specialists had set to work immediately on debrief, playing bait into their carefully-maintained networks until leads had started twitching up out of the murky information Sasuke had had available, and field ops had slipped smoothly into action as soon as he'd been able to confirm some of the more promising ones while out on his mission with Sakura.

Waiting for their first report to arrive left him, strangely, with very little to do in the interim. He'd wound up getting a pass into the archives in the morning, ignoring the eyerolls that his information specialists had delivered when he'd told them. Keener, they'd said, not unkindly, but otherwise left him to it.

The best thing about the team, really, was the way that none of them asked more questions than they could help.

By afternoon he'd already forced his way through some of the driest scrolls he'd read in a lifetime of dry scrolls, blinking himself out of a doze more than once; it was glaringly obvious that he needed to do something to wake himself back up before trying to resume. Anyone else wandering into the archives after lunch would find him with his collar pulled high over his mouth and nose, hair lightly covered with dust, reorganizing a shelf of scrolls that likely hadn't been read in a decade.

[01/20; open]

[not_thedragon]

Fumiko had nearly hissed at him when he'd thought about what to do with a child and offered his hand to her at the Academy, so Sasuke found himself heading through the streets of Konoha with what might have been the shortest Uchiha on record trailing sulkily behind him for several long minutes before he'd finally grown exasperated and rounded on her with a glare. The glare had been returned with interest for all of a second (an impressive second, he had to grant) before her mouth had gone wobbly and he'd hastily whisked her off into an underused park -- the last thing he wanted was to have to deal with another release of the damn rumour magazine with the headline Second son of Uchiha clan head makes children cry.

Fortunately, the child had pulled herself together before quite bursting into tears, which left Sasuke crouched awkwardly in front of her while she sat on a park bench, scuffing the tips of her sandals in the dirt, and reluctantly narrated her version of events. It was a sullen story, broken through by the occasional sniffle, and it ultimately incriminated her as much as the Sarutobi girls.

It still left Sasuke with the odd, immature urge to march back to the Academy and tell Adela where she could put her notions about teamwork and appropriate use of jutsu, signed note or no note at all.

In the end, with Fumiko's parents still out of town and Mikoto well-used to leaving his dinner in the oven, Sasuke had taken her to the place that had always seemed to boost the spirits of the other women in his life. A few minutes in, he was beginning to regret the decision, as Fumiko descended upon the bakery display cases with a tray, tongs, and the face of a conqueror.

Do you wanna build a snow maaan~?

[mokutonno]

The snow had hit overnight and Yamato had watched it settle from the warmth of his apartment, with barely concealed glee. From a practical point of view, snow made missions difficult, tracking easier and was an every day nuisance for the village, but something about a first snowfall completely enchanted him and always had.
So it was little wonder that Yamato was awake early and bundled up against the cold the next day, on a rare string of down time, to explore the village and it's new, chilled mantle.

His wandering lead him past the park and with hardly a soul in sight, Yamato detoured into the layer of untouched white powder to indulge in a little creative license with the materials at hand.

About halfway through the creation of what was shaping up to be a finely crafted snowman, Yamato spied a familiar tuft of coal black hair, followed by a just as dark, smaller figure stomping obstinately behind the first.
A childish grin touched his mouth; Obito had said to get Sasuke's attention..this was one way, right?

The snowball he'd been forming was in motion before he could second guess himself, already squashing down bubbling laughter at the memory of an almost identical moment between himself and their reigning Hokage as he did.