"Yes," Arakaki said. He could see the moment when understanding hit her. It was not unlike the look that crossed a man's face when he understood the masked assassin in his bedroom was there for him. The look when the target understood what that odd salty-bitterness in his morning tea portended. That moment when a captured ninja came face to face with Shida Akumaru's warped, grinning, molten-plastic face and realized that no, his buddies weren't coming for him, his village would never know what happened to him, and in a few hours, Konoha would know every secret he had ever pledged to guard with his life.

"Yes," he said again. "You are a kunoichi. You are trained. You are skilled. You are a resource Konoha and your Hokage have need of." He sighed and picked up his tea again, sorry to see the raw distress in his subordinate, even so well disguised behind a facade as Sumire had. "You will continue to work in Codes and Cyphers on a part-time basis. Between missions."

It wasn't what she wanted, but perhaps it would soften the blow.

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A litany of things shuffled, settled, upset, and shuffled again as she thought. A little, cowardly voice inside her said that she could escape. Leave the village in the dead of night, change her looks, cut her hair, hide and disguise her scent. They would never find her, ever. No matter if her name ended up in Bingo Books the world over, she could hide forever. Anything, everything, was worth never taking up the mantle of kunoichi ever again in that position. She could quit right now!

After five seconds, Sumire shut the voice up and away, never to be heard from again (or at least until she fell into heavy sleep). "I understand," she replied quietly, cowed. Her village needed her, she reminded herself. He'd left her with the Crypt.

That would be enough, wouldn't it?

"When should I expect my first assignment, Arakaki-sama?"

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"You have already received it," Arakaki answered. He drained the last of his tea and put the cup down with a click, picking up a mission assignment scroll and handing it to Sumire. "If you have questions, you know the appropriate channels in which to raise them." He put her folder aside, picked up another one. Returned his reading glasses to his face.

It was a dismissal. Clear, unambiguous. One that knew there would be no argument.

He waited until the rustle of cloth told him she'd stood, was offering him a deep, respectful, stiff-backed bow.

"Sumire."

She looked up.

"Go and come back, Konoha shinobi, ANBU agent of your Hokage." It was the same formal send off which all missions were launched with. Arakaki stood himself, and returned the bow.

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