Arakaki nodded grimly. "As am I, Hiruzen. As am I." He placed another black stone. The Hokage placed another white one. For an interval there was only the soft rhythmic snap of Go stones on well-seasoned kaya wood. Arakaki had to fight for every inch of territory. It was a close game, as all their games were, but the Hokage was showing once again why he was called the Professor.

"I wish I had your confidence," said Arakaki at length. "But maybe that's not my responsibility. You have the confidence, and I plan for the contingencies." The candle flame flickered, stirred by some tiny current of air that had gotten past the hurricane glass. "I trust my agents, of course..."

Of course trusting his agents had led to this mission in the first place. Inouye Suguru had snapped, leaving the corpses of his family to be discovered by a neighbor, and a pair of comrades to hunt him down in cold blood. ANBU was a hard service. A grim service. It never failed to surprise Arakaki that there weren't more spectacular burn outs like Suguru and Ando Shigehara, and others before them. Or that agents who had suffered brutally under the spiral tattoo would rise from hospital beds, put on mask and armour, and insist on going right back out there. Iron-willed, like Kakashi. With fortitude unsurpassed, like Genma.

Arakaki cast a glance at Pakkun, who, belly full, had curled into a still-worried ball and was fretfully trying to sleep. Hiruzen placed a stone. Click. In the soft light the Hokage looked older. More careworn. But strong. Infinitely strong, with the set of his jaw and the flame in his gaze.

"I guess that's the best any of us can do."