A/N - Based on the prompt "abandoned village" - just another one of my random one-shots. Town name shamelessly stolen from another anime. Also, blahblah, not mine, blahblah. Prep for NaNoWriMo.

The Village

Shiranui Genma watched the cigarette's curl of smoke, eyes bleary and bloodshot in the pre-dawn hours. Morino Ibiki sat on the other side of the dim debriefing room, file folder and pen set precisely in front of him. The older man was impeccably neat, although he had to have been woken up by Genma's early arrival.

The wisp of smoke curled higher as he grabbed it roughly from it's resting spot in the ashtray. He took a hard pull, willing the nicotine to calm his frayed nerves. He left it hanging from the corner of his mouth – anything to get more of the soothing effect as quickly as possible.

Ibiki folded his hands together patiently, leaning slightly forward over the table. "Shiranui-san, I've read over your prelimary report, and I'd like to ask you some follow-up questions in it's regards."

Another pull, a lesser rush of muscle-relaxing sensation. "Screw the formalities, Ibiki. What do you want to know?"

He hadn't seen or heard the report's folder open. Losing your touch, Shiranui? his subconscious proded him. Another drag shut the bitter voice out. He tapped his ashes into the ashtray, reaching out to grab at his half-empty pack. The dim light in the room caught on plastic shrinkwrap still around it, and it crinkled loudly in the otherwise still room.

"You were sent on a solo mission to deliver some documentation to Karakura, yes?"

"You already know I was Ibiki."

"You left two days ago, approximately noon, with a normal kit, correct? There were no delays in departure?"

"Negative." His hand clenched spasmically around the cigarette pack, crushing the carton around it's contents. "All my time is accounted for, so stop beating around the bush, Ibiki. I wasn't drunk or impaired."

The elder man sighed. "I'm not trying to imply you were, you know that Genma. I'm just trying to cover all bases here."

Wordlessly, Genma pulled another cigarette from the now-destroyed back and stuck it between his lips. Putting the butt of the last one close, he inhaled deeply, drawing the embers to the new one. His nerves as high as they were, he wouldn't feel comfortable without something in his mouth, and debriefing policy forbade any weapons inside any of the conference rooms.

He looked at the butt, and the dying cherry on it, watching it burn towards the filter.

"It took about 10 hours to get to the outskirts of Karakura; it was about 21:45 or so when I got to the safehouse. It was late, I was tired, and I figured I could deliver everything the next morning, then head back."

Ibiki reached out and slapped the butt from Genma's hand before it could extinguish itself on his flesh, then swept it from the laminated-wood table and into the ashtray. Genma seemed half-aware of the action, taking another drag. The smoke in the air around him grew heavier.

"Next morning, I grabbed my gear and headed for the center of town. There was nobody there, 'biki. I took me a while to realize it, because it was just so odd, but there was nobody."

Reaching for his pen, the T&I commander scribbled a few notes on the folder. "Elaborate: nobody. No one to make the delivery to?"

"No." Genma pushed forward, nearly tipping his chair backwards in the process. Both hands on the table, cigarette still hanging from the corner of his mouth, his eyes were strangely bright. "There was no one there. No villagers, no kids, no fucking cats or dogs. I checked a few houses, even the fucking parakeets were missing from their cages. It was like they all just up and left. There was even dinner on the table, like it had just been put out, but it had never been disturbed."

More scribbling. "Your analysis?"

The tokubetsu jounin slumped back into his chair, it's legs making grating sounds against the concrete floor. "I don't have one. I've never seen anything like it. I did a standard recon around the village, found literally nothing, took a few pictures, then came back as fast as I could."

"Anything you'd like to add?"

Bloodshot brown eyes looked up, through the cloud of smoke. "It's not right, Ibiki. Something there is just not right." He looked like he was going to say more, then stopped, shaking his head. "I just don't know."

Ibiki shut the folder, capped his pen, methodically. "Take whatever time you need to get yourself straightened up," he said, pulling the folder off the table as he stepped towards the door. "We'll contact you if anything else comes up in regards to this mission." Two steps to the door, and in one smooth movement, he was out.

Genma sat, nail running along the seam of his cigarette pack, for a long time, until his half-pack dwindled to none.

Ibiki shut his office door behind him, tossing the file folder he had been writing on into a stack already on his desk. Yuuhei Kurenai glanced up at him from the chair in the corner, a folder on her own lap. "How'd he do?" she asked.

He grunted, pulling a sake bottle and a dish from his top desk drawer. "As well as can be expected. You definitely owe him at least a dinner out of this, by the way; he's legitimately shaken."

She shrugged. "Not a problem, you know we can't tell them when we're doing jounin exams in genjutsu though, it would defeat the point."

"I know, I know," he downed his lukewarm sake in one gulp, then poured himself another one. "Poor bastard's going to have nightmares for weeks after this. Who was it who thought up that genjutsu, anyways?"

Kurenai laughed. "You'll never believe this, but it was Tenten. Remind me to never piss that girl off."