A/N: I'm trying my hand at action/suspense. We'll see how that goes. Hopefully somebody does read this, but this fic shall go on no matter what. InoKankurou must be put out there!
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Would any of you really sue me if I said I did? I do have an OC in here though, so I own him. This is the part where I wink seductively.
She recognized him more by name than by face; his makeup gone and puppets missing, he offered nothing more for a first impression than a standard civilian would, easily lost and easily forgotten in the masses of faces she had seen before in her life.
His actions, however, proved otherwise. Seated in a chair in the center of the room, he carefully examined one by one the hidden faces of his tormentors lined up in motionless obedience behind the metal table that separated them, its surface glinting in the unforgiving light of the single lamp hanging from the ceiling. His eyes observed their masks, their movements, their bearings, made tacit judgments about each one as he comprehended his surroundings. Though his hands were bound so tightly behind him the ropes scored his wrists, they continued to fidget restlessly, intent on escaping anyhow. His legs were bent in a stance ready to lunge off the chair and attack, should he need to do so, even while outnumbered six to one.
Typical shinobi. Civilians were hardly so tenacious. He was prepared to fight even in the most helpless of situations.
As he scanned down the line, his eyes finally reached hers. She was sure it was impossible for him to see them though her mask, but she read his. They were fierce and passionate, a gaze intent on creating war. He glanced at her right shoulder, then her chest, and smirked.
"One female," he drawled. "Maybe things won't be so boring here, after all."
Ino was not imprudent enough to reply; there was hardly a time when her sex passed the consciousness of a male prisoner. Whether he had heard the comment or not, Ibiki made no mention of it when he spoke next.
"Sabuku no Kankurou," he began, a lilt of mockery in his tone. "A lofty title, eh? Do you know why you're here?"
"I suppose you brought me here to tell me."
"You are now considered a traitor of the country."
"Mine or yours?" the Sand ninja replied with a smirk.
"From what I know, mine and yours by association. Unless your Kazekage secretly renounced his alliance without kindly informing us. Entirely probable."
"Don't ask me. I've never known what goes on in that red scruffy head of his."
Ibiki was silent in response as he took to scanning the official documents in his hand, Kankurou watching him intently. "What's that?" he asked at length.
"Your personal file, of course. Your abilities and history. Your defenses, your weaknesses. Everything ever documented about you, from birth to flimsy teenager. From the looks of it, it should be pretty easy to break you."
There was odd laughter. "The light's shining through them. There's nothing written on those papers," scoffed the other from his chair. "Oldest trick in the book."
Without a response Ibiki set the papers down on the table, and soon the laughter died and the silence reigned once more. Kankurou fidgeted but could not read the papers.
"Look here," Ibiki began in mock surprise. "An official list of all the charges laid against you. Attempted theft of classified documents. Attempted assassination of the Hokage. Conspiracy. Treason hostile to Konohagakure," he read, lighting a cigarette. "Breaking into and entering private property, had to throw that one in there. Where was the change of heart, my Sunagakure ally? I thought our countries' love affair was going to last more than a one-night stand."
"Hn. Witty."
"It comes and goes." He puffed smoke idly into the youth's face, who repeatedly blinked in irritation. "So who helped you do it?"
Kankurou's top lip curled. "I work alone."
"Don't try to lie to me. You'd hardly compare with the best of them."
"I'm not lying."
"Were you under orders from the Kazekage?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"How did you infiltrate that far into the Tower without being detected?"
"I'd sooner ask the guards why they're slacking on the job. What makes you think I can't work alone, huh?"
"Honestly, I don't think you know what the hell you're doing."
"Tch. The reason why I was able to do it was because of people like you who think I couldn't."
"We've got time, Kankurou. We've got all the time in the world for you to tell the truth and you're going to stay here until you do."
"I'm not lying."
"I'm an incredibly patient man."
"I'm not lying." The words, hushed and venomous, were just barely audible through his clenched teeth.
There was a pause as Ibiki diminished the gap between them, forsaking the barrier between them and working his way around the table. As he stood before the boy, he crouched down to rest on his haunches, meeting Kankurou's eyes on level with his face mere inches away. His next words were surprisingly gentle. "Kankurou. It's one question. One answer and you'd be done with this. You could leave, and go home. Take a nap and eat a warm dinner. You're young and handsome; go get yourself a pretty woman. You'd never have to see my hideous face again—wouldn't that be nice?" He touched the young man's shoulder. "Just tell me: who was in this with you?"
Kankurou jerked his shoulder out of the other's grasp.
"No one," he spat.
Ibiki stared back at the fiery gaze, a knowing smile on his lips. No one really ever fell for that one.
"Heh, we're gonna have fun with you."
A signal later Kankurou's arms were out of his control, forced up by hands he couldn't identify that slammed him hard on the table. He winced at the pain as his clenched fists smashed under him. Ino obeyed her instructions to hold down a leg, as another held down the other leg and yet two others his shoulders. Panting, Kankurou at last conceded his attempts to flay out of their constraints.
"Don't worry, kid," Ibiki said finally. "Your definition of torture is not my definition of torture. I never use physical abuse to obtain my objectives." He grimaced. "I like keeping my hands clean, see."
Out of the corner of her eye Ino caught Kannon shifting position next to her. His turn. There was a lurch in her stomach when she hastily looked back to Kankurou, who now looked rather pathetic lying there panting, oblivious as to what it truly meant to be a traitor of Konoha. Ibiki intended to show him so that he wouldn't forget. Konoha had been disgraced and this was the consequence. He wouldn't forget it.
Kankurou's gaze met hers a second time. Rendered motionless he was still fighting, the way his eyes searched for hers through the small black slits of her mask. She knew he'd never find them, but in his the war was still there. They remained large, pleading, angry. Look away. Searching for something. He wouldn't turn away. Idiot. A wild glance back and he was still fixed on her. If you won't I will. What was he expecting? For the lone female to show some mercy?
She attempted to allow this to anger her. Not all women are weak. His eyes still seared through her thoughts. A killer's eyes, she reminded herself. He would kill if he could. The most she could do was fix her stare into a blank section of the wall and struggle to ignore them.
Perhaps it was his familiarity to her. Or his youth. Or that she had just spoken to his sister not a week earlier.
He would leave Tsunade in a pool of blood and a fallen Konoha in chaos if he could.
A chill ran through her as she recalled Suna's previous failed invasion. Their alliance to Sound, and the death of the former Kazekage. The subsequent befriending of Konoha. It all seemed to fit all too perfectly. Gaara ordained the new Kazekage. Temari the ambassador, consuming herself in establishing an amicable relationship between the two countries. The parties, the insistent festivals, to affirm their camaraderie. Konohans always did love their festivals. The invasion never ended, did it? Years. Years of waiting for the perfect moment. How trusting Konoha had been. How foolish.
Her grip stiffened and suddenly her appreciation for Kannon grew immeasurably. She watched in fascination as Ibiki's right-hand man approached the table.
"Fortunately, Ibiki's subordinates are not so squeamish," Kannon said quietly, his mask unable to hide the glee in his tone or the implied grin stretching his features underneath it.
He held his palms to the center of the other's traitorous chest, twisted them in the hand seals, and carefully positioned his index fingers and thumbs so that they formed the proper diamond shape in between them, his other fingers clenched together in unsympathetic retribution as he concentrated his chakra.
He paused abruptly when alongside him Ibiki gently grasped Kankurou's chin—the captive cringing at the contact—and turned it upwards to the light, exposing it for what it was, one face challenging the other.
"I remember you," he mused, like nostalgia at a dinner party. "Last time you visited Konoha, you ate at the Suna welcoming feast. Got yourself so drunk no one knew where you were 'til your sister found you passed out and drooling at the bottom of some ditch." He chuckled. "A riot."
"Seidai no jutsu."
His thrashing screams ended when his head lolled sideways, seemingly detached from his spine, drool and blood seeping from the side of his gaping lips. His pupils rotated upwards, two creatures with minds of their own. White slits exposed. Ibiki took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke billowing from it in a cloud that easily overtook the tiny room.
"Welcome back, Kankurou."
Reviews of any kind are appreciated. I really do appreciate them, of course!
Seidai no jutsu: Technique of Justice. I tried to keep the authenticity..hope it works.