"Because I'm suited to it," Ginta answered. "Solo missions. Assassinations. Dirty work. Got my grandfather's blood, and I grew up around politics." His voice was a soft rasp in the quiet cabin.

Ginta let his eyes drift closed a moment. Kakashi was there, so tired he was practically falling asleep where he sat. He was there with his hand outstretched towards Ginta, and something had changed. And nothing had changed. They still had half a broken relationship, and Kakashi was still fucking Ryouma, and Ginta still wished it had gone the other way.

"ANBU needed people, after the Fox. And I was suited to it. Perfect for it. Gonna be Arakaki some day, and be my grandfather. Advise you when you're Hokage, right? When we're old fuckers with bad prostates and have to trim our ear hair." He chuckled softly, trailing off into silence.

Kakashi was still there, still hadn't pulled away. Why? Ginta's question still hung there, unanswered. Why are you here And why do I care so goddamn much?

"Why'd you?"