Disclaimer: Here I go, I don't own Naruto or its characters, I am just bastardising them for my own sick pleasure and hopefully yours too.
AN: This is a sort of follow on from my oneshot Deadly Persistence and some events may be referenced/expanded…I would suggest but not insist you read that first! This is Kakashi-centric and is set sometime after Shippuden, it will obviously be ignoring certain events in the manga. At some point there will probably be some pairings, probably KakaSaku but it won't be a lovey dovey fic…I fully intend to make this Kakashi a bit of an arsehole.
This will contain (dun dun duuuuun!!) violence, ninja-potty-mouth, horrific abuse of the English language, badly written smut, my obnoxious sense of humour and the mistreatment of both my poor patronising OC and some canon characters. Subsequently this is going to be rated M for "if you're too young- don't read it Mother truckers" (or at least don't tell your parents) Please enjoy!
Chapter One: Humanity, Paranoia and Bingo books
The waiting room completely conformed to the generic blueprint that made it just that, a waiting room. Even the paintwork on the walls seemed to reflect a pre-ordained philosophy in soul-sucking décor; the lower portion of the walls were a cool shade of 'eggshell blue' until they met with the pine picture rail which dissected the room into halves at about waist height. It was a frustrating colour because 'eggshell' wasn't completely accurate. It was a colour that hovered on the borders of being slightly too green to be blue and slightly too blue to be green…yet it was too pastel to be truly considered turquoise and too flat to be called Aqua. The colour had no name – but the title of eggshell seemed to be about the closest match and at least seemed to invoke some of the pseudo-pretentious aura the interior designer had obviously been going for. This 'calming' expanse of eggshell blue…or green, was quite possibly the most fascinating thing in the room because everything else was a surgical, clinical, boring white. The shelves were white, the light fittings were white, the plastic plants had oddly been spray painted white and stood erect, bizarre and ghostly in white porcelain pots. Even the horrible faux leather chairs were white…and squeaky Kakashi thought solemnly as he tried for the umpteenth time to readjust himself on the slightly too small seat without incurring the accompaniment of an orchestra of embarrassing groans and shrill whines which echoed around the white space and sounded like something else entirely. He failed and the pretty pale-skinned receptionist who was perched behind her white desk on the far side of the white and eggshell room shot him a disgusted look that would have withered a lesser man before scooting her white framed glasses back up her nose with a well manicured fingernail.
To avoid any further embarrassment Kakashi resigned himself to remaining marble statue still and kept himself busy by trying to find hidden images in the ugly pattern of the white artex ceiling. This proved harder than he had realised when all that seemed to manifest from the swirling plaster grooves were other white things…clouds, snow covered mountains, white fluffy bunnies…it really was a lost cause.
Even the small pile of magazines, which had looked so promising with their multicoloured covers, had failed to give him any relief from the mind numbing boredom, the tatty copies of "Kunoichi Weekly" were at least eight months out of date and looked at him mockingly from their place on the white Perspex coffee table.
Taking a quick glance at the silent white wall clock he noticed with irritation that he had been kept waiting a full twenty-three minutes. Kakashi hated being kept waiting. He wondered briefly if his white, silvery hair and pale complexion had caused him to blend seamlessly into the scenery rendering him invisible…but then he realised that, no…he would have just looked like a decapitated body sitting there in his regular jounin garb and black mask and he was pretty sure that a decapitated body would have drawn some attention.
Twenty four minutes…
Also with the damn noises the chair kept making, he doubted he could have been forgotten. Another disgusted glare was sent his way at the latest barrage of suspicious squeaks.
Nope, definitely not forgotten.
Maybe if he made a run for it it would take them another year to pin him down for another appointment…
A door opened with a gentle creak and a tall leggy woman with a sharply upturned nose strode out purposefully clutching a clipboard to her chest. Her long blonde hair was drawn back into a severe bun that sat high on her head and she wore a white (what a surprise) calf length doctor's coat which was hiding what promised to be a lithe shapely figure.
On second thoughts…
"Alright then, Hana," she called to the snooty receptionist, "I think that's everyone for today you can…" her eyes fell on Kakashi, "Oh err, and you are?" she said with a frown riffling through the notes pinned to her clipboard.
"Hatake Kakashi. I'm here for my two o'clock."
"Hatake-san, your appointment was four hours ago…" she said her frown hardening into a scowl.
"Well you see I was helping an elderly women cross the street when she invited me to accompany her to her salsa class - she had recently lost her husband and it was a tradition of theirs to go once a month to the local dance hall and seeing as I have been looking to expand my list of hobbies I offered to be her chaperone and well…" the gaze directed at him hardened further "…anyway long story short: I'm here now. If I'm too late and you'd like to rearrange another appointment I could always…"
"No no Hatake-san, its quite alright, I can fit you in now."
"Really? Because…"
"This way Hatake-san if you would." She told him firmly before disappearing back through the door with a quick spin on her slightly heeled black boots.
With a dejected sigh Kakashi stood, wincing as the chair gave a last flatulent protest at his departure.
The office Kakashi found himself entering was thankfully mostly devoid of white, instead it was all warm earthy tones and soft edges, a large oak desk stood proud and polished against a panelled wall, its surface covered in files and folders of varying thickness. Bright primary coloured stationary holders jutted up through the mountainous paperwork like miniature skyscrapers and one of those kitsch novelty stress relievers perched on top of a large pile of stapled photocopies and Kakashi had to physically restrain himself from setting the row of small silver balls into clicking motion. Rows upon rows of medical textbooks were crammed onto buckling shelves and certificates hung in thin gild frames were dotted above the desk. The slatted windows allowed enough of the fading natural light in to make the softly lit room look almost tranquil and welcoming in its neutral organised chaos. Almost. The presence of the sharp-faced doctor looking at him expectantly from her brown leather swivel chair instantly diminished a good twenty percent of the calming ambience. Her intelligent blue eyes seemed to bore far too deeply into his one grey and he found himself fidgeting for the first time for at least two decades. This was exactly why he hated hospitals and dentists and all other establishments that employed a "white-décor" policy for waiting rooms and hired prissy little women with clear precise voices and quick perceptive eyes.
"Would you like to take a seat Hatake-san?" she said in that clear precise voice while searching for a specific set of files on her desk, her hands found what they were looking for quickly and she slipped the small stack of papers into her clipboard with an audible click andKakashi noticed a Polaroid picture of himself stapled to the top most sheet.
Looking around the small room he noticed the absence of the clichéd chaise lounge, instead a brown swivel chair that matched the doctors glared at him in a challenging manner. He lowered him self into it making sure to hold her gaze as he did so. It didn't squeak in protest and instead seemed to sigh in an almost welcoming manner. Much better.
"So, I suppose you know why you're here Hatake-san?" she said giving him a small polite smile. A doctors smile.
"Kakashi."
"Sorry?"
"Kakashi. 'Hatake-san' was my father."
"Alright then." She replied nodding once, a short sharp motion that reminded him of a bird. "Kakashi-san, I would like…"
"Just Kakashi." He interrupted with a placating hand wave "Honestly, if we are going to do this I'd rather drop the honorific if it's the same to you."
She let out a small nasal sigh, which Kakashi translated as a sign of annoyance and returned it with a fake happy little eye crease.
"Kakashi." She began once more "As you know you are…" the sound of shuffling paper filled the room "Three years over due for your annual psychiatric evaluation…three? Wait that can't be right…"
"No no," Kakashi murmured with a dismissive head shake "I just wasn't around for my last few appointments. Other commitments you see."
"Dancing with old ladies, walking the road of life and rescuing kittens?" she asked clearly reading his patented responses from the small clipboard in front of her.
His stare tightened a little at that, just how much was on that file?
"No, missions: dancing with death, walking through blood and guts and rescuing myself from hideous torture."
"I see…Well, you're here now, and that's what matters." She said straightening in her seat and uncapped a blue plastic biro that she drummed against the clipboard to punctuate each syllable. "Well then Kakashi-sa…Kakashi, I am Ishihara Risa and I will be conducting your evaluation, everything discussed in this office is of course completely confidential. None of the information you provide during our time together will be repeated unless you become a missing-nin or a perceived danger to the village. Only an outline of my observations will be provided to the Hokage and depending on my report you will either be cleared for active duty or referred to another doctor for further analysis."
"You mean programming."
"Excuse me?"
"As in, if you find me to be without some of my more important faculties, I will be referred to a team dealing in 'rehabilitation' and sent off to be reprogrammed."
"You make it sound like you're a machine."
"We are aren't we?"
"Are we?" she asked, pen poised over the clipboard that was propped up on her crossed knee, it looked like her latest patient was going to jump right in at the deep end…
"Well the human brain is essentially just a fleshy machine sending electrical impulses to the rest of our body…every action, thought and desire…" he stared thoughtfully at he long slender legs for just a second "…Are just tiny little chemical reactions bursting inside our skulls. Beyond that I am a shinobi; we are all pieces of a larger machine…cogs in a doomsday clock. Tools. Weapons."
"Does that bother you?" she asked and Kakashi was pleased to notice the small blush colour the area around her collar.
"Why would it?"
"Because it strips you of your humanity."
"All shinobi are inhuman to some degree or at least pretty damn close."
"What makes you say that?"
"I am a shinobi first. Man second. I guess one role becomes easier than the other after a while…or rather the compartmentalising becomes harder and certain aspects take over." Kakashi said shifting slightly under the close scrutiny.
"How do you mean?"
"When you spend more time out of the village than within its walls, and then when you spend most of that time on your own it becomes hard to break certain patterns."
"Which are?"
"…You start to see human desires as mission objectives. You approach things in your personal life how you would in your working life, mapping out strategies, adhering to self imposed rules and timetables…you start to wonder if you ever really had a personal life in the first place."
"Are you aware you are referring to yourself in the second person."
"Maa… that's saner than referring to yourself in the third person though right?"
She gave him a small grin at that and Kakashi was struck by how much prettier she looked without the doctors mask on, her slightly to harsh features warming under the amused expression.
"I suppose it is…"
"Kakashi is a ninja, Kakashi kills things, Kakashi thinks this psyche eval' is pointless…" he continued waggling an eyebrow.
"Why pointless?"
"Because you will pass Kakashi anyway." He said with clear confidence and a crescent eye crease.
Her cheery expression faltered at that and her hands tightened almost imperceptivity on the clipboard.
"…Still Kakashi-san speaking about oneself in the second person denotes a certain level of introversion or an abstraction of events…a defence mechanism."
"Fine. I wonder if I have a personal life…no I wonder sometimes, what a personal life is."
"Open and direct, that's very good. Under all these thinly veiled attempts to make me feel intimidated and uncomfortable you do seem willing to talk honestly, I am pleased."
"There's no point trying to cover any of this up. You'd see through it, even though I have always excelled in infiltration and deception I know you'd still see through it."
"What makes you say that?"
"You're Anbu, there's no way they would appoint me a civilian psychiatrist." he said dismissively.
A flicker of something passed across the doctors face, maybe annoyance mixed with respect and a tiny dash of shock but it was enough for Kakashi to confirm his suspicions.
"That's very observant," the doctor continued "…perhaps a little paranoid."
Kakashi snorted, a dry humourless sound that had meant to come out a lot less sardonic "Well find me a shinobi that isn't a little paranoid and I'll show you a toe-tag ready to be written. Paranoia keeps us alive."
"So you see a lack of humanity and acute paranoia as important traits for an accomplished ninja?"
"No, I see a lack of humanity and acute paranoia as essential traits for an accomplished ninja."
"Care to give me an example? From your experience?"
"Sure."
A thick crimson stream bisects the photograph diagonally from left to right and again in the opposite direction creating a vibrant and vivid blood red 'X' across the page. The face that stares up at me from the bingo book is bordered by a thick expanse of white and mirrors the scene at my feet almost perfectly. The lifeless body of my target, staring up from the white purity of the snow covered ground, lies crumpled and disjointed. The savage gash across the jugular yawns open and still pumps arching red fluid onto the ground, which steams slightly in the cold night air, the throat muscles work up and down like pistons and the mouth, gaping open, tries to speak through the gargling mess. But the man is definitely dead, his brain just doesn't realise it yet. Soon enough the fountain of blood slows until it is just a seeping presence collecting around the base of the neck and spreading through the white blanket of snow. The spark of light in his eyes dulls to flat colour and suddenly the slack jawed man at my feet barely represents the one smirking at me from the photograph.
The dead never look like the living. It's something strange and intangible…the subtlest of differences even with all the blood and gore. Yes the light is gone and even in the darkest person that makes a difference. But it's also something else, possibly the absence of what we call a soul that transforms a person into an object, a target into a lump of meat waiting to be incinerated. The boundary between life and death is rice-paper thin, a tiny translucent membrane between chaos and complete eternal silence. It's something that as ninja, we are constantly wearing ever thinner.
I am aware that my hands are shaking, the adrenaline still pumping dark and heavy in my veins and I take a few moments to calm my breathing and regulate my heartbeat. Rolling my head across my shoulders and trying to shake out most of the nervous energy I notice for the first time just how cold it is, my muscles only now starting to uncoil and cool.
I place the pen and bingo book back into my pocket and pick up the shattered wolf mask, it grins uselessly up at me with deep empty eye sockets, the porcelain is smooth and cold against my exposed fingertips and I shove the pieces unceremoniously into the satchel strapped across my back and unsheathe the black handled katana secured under it. I cut away the targets head from his body with practiced precision although the process takes a little longer than normal due to the frigid weather, my hands are numb and find working the weapon difficult, and the blood, now congealed and sticky, makes the flesh harder to work through, it takes a few sharp tugs to separate from the body. I lift the surprisingly heavy lump of meat by the hair and push it down into a plastic lined compartment of the satchel, before securing it once again across my back and perform the familiar hand seals for a small katon jutsu that engulfs the body in white-hot flames. It feels nice to have the warmth of the fire heating my skin and I stare into the flickering light until I feel a familiar presence settle behind me. When I turn around a cat grins back, its painted lips pulled up into a smirk that I find befitting for the user. The figure drops nimbly from the branch he was perching on and lifts a hand to the worn ceramic contours of the mask before shoving it up over his head in a smooth practiced motion. A senbon is slipped with fluid ease between the man's teeth and he levels me with a clearly exasperated look.
"Fuck Hatake, it's cold!"
His hot breath billows up in white clouds to meet the smoke from the fire.
I sigh at the blatant obviousness of that statement and stalk over to stoke the dwindling flames of my target's cremation with my katana.
"So how many more?" he asks me.
"That's it." I say poking the embers again, watching with morbid curiosity as the ash mould of a human hand collapses in on itself.
"That's it?!"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you." He grumbles, his pout causing the senbon to shift into a vertical position so that it brushes against his chin.
Sighing I reach into my pocket and throw the bingo book at him, which he catches, of course, with ease. Everything about Genma is easy. He is easy conversation, easy with the women and has the easy grace of a cat so that everything he does seems fluid and feline. He is lazy, temperamental and a sucker for a warm lap. He is one of the most efficient members of Anbu and someone I find easy to work with. Our skills complement each other and I am often impressed by how ruthlessly efficient he is under all the casual smirks and lewd conversations.
But he still isn't as good as me.
He thumbs through the pages and his noncommittal grunt while chucking the book back at me brings the smallest tug of a smile to the corners of my cloth covered lips.
"Something wrong Genma?" I ask with mock innocence.
"Twelve! The whole damn book!"
"Yes."
"I only had eight!"
"Yes."
"And you've finished a day ahead of schedule!"
"Yes"
The senbon makes a quick circuit along the thin line of his mouth while his rich brown eyes dart back and fourth between the dark remains of my target and myself. The grating noise of the slim piece of metal working across the tops of his teeth sounds almost as loud, in the deathly quiet of the forest, as the sound of the cogs turning in his head. I wait patiently for what I know is coming next.
"Huh, that means we've finished a day ahead of schedule."
"Yes." I sigh again rubbing the back of my head tiredly.
"Which means we can find some nice warm beds to fill with nice warm girls and fill them and ourselves with nice warm sake before filling them with our nice warm selves..."
"That was almost a sentence but no. No."
"Oh come on Hatake! You, me and some hot women! There's a town only six miles from here!"
And despite the fact that he's starting to sound like a petulant child instead of the Anbu captain he is - equal in rank to me, I can't help but slightly warm to his warm idea. My muscles are tight, and the cold biting temperature of the snowy forest does make girls and saké sound incredibly appealing…
"Also," he continues, "If we go back now we'll arrive early. When was the last time you actually got anywhere early let alone on time? If you're not careful it might become a habit and then people will expect punctuality on a regular basis…"
He had a point there. I hadn't expected the missing-nin to be such a push over, it seemed they were handing out S-ranks to everyone these days. The lack of challenge had left me feeling tightly wound and unsatisfied.
"I'll pay. Hotel, drinks and even girls if we have to." He said with a wide grin and a suggestive bob of the senbon.
…I can't argue with that.
The small town we find our selves in is barely a town. It is instead just one dust road with several drinking establishments, two dingy hotels and a couple of restaurants with obvious hygiene issues. This was something that always perplexed me, Konoha, the village hidden in leaves, could hardly be called a village, it was a sprawling bustling city with several districts both ninja and civilian with massive training grounds, parks, ornamental gardens, shrines and even a wide meandering river all of which was enclosed in a forty foot high stone wall. This town we were in could be walked through in under ten minutes, literally if you blinked you'd miss it. It was an achingly inaccurate description I thought while cradling the lukewarm saké.
Genma however was far from pondering labels or the meaning of life and was instead cradling the busty redhead straddling his lap awkwardly in our small booth in the corner of the busy bar. He already had the telltale blush spreading across his cheeks and nose that indicated he was thoroughly inebriated and the brightly coloured plastic swizzle stick that had replaced his usual senbon spun in lazy circles tracing patterns across his companions almost exposed chest.
My companion for the evening sat demurely by my side, caramel eyes wide with outrage at her friend's lack of modesty. Turning to her with my usual happy smile I tried to put her at ease.
"Some people, no shame."
She giggled at that and rolled her eyes.
"You'll have to forgive Keiko-chan, she's a little exuberant." The girl says with a quiet but pleasant voice before looking down to play with a loose thread on her highly buttoned blouse.
"How do you two know each other?" I ask her politely, sifting through my limited encyclopaedia of expectable small talk topics.
"We work together"
"As?"
"Maids for one of the wealthy families in the area."
"Maids eh?" Genma pipes up with a lecherous grin
"Would you like to see my uniform sometime Genma-sama?" Keiko replies with a well-timed flick of her hair and a coy smile.
My companion turns back to me, intent on ignoring the sound of smacking lips coming from the two opposite us.
"… And you and your friend Genma? How do you know each other?"
"We also work together."
"Oh?" she asks with sudden interest "What do you do if you don't mind me asking?"
I think about this for a moment, noting that even in our plain civilian cloths Genma and I most certainly do not look like regular civilian men. We are too well muscled, too sure and smooth in our movements, even when hindered by alcohol.
"We are mercenaries." I lie smoothly, "working for the daimyo's son."
"That would explain all these muscles!" the busty redhead Keiko exclaims shoving her hands up Genma's top with a flirtatious giggle. Her more petite friend next to me slams her head onto the table in embarrassed despair.
Chuckling I wrap a hand around her shoulders and draw her upright and closer to me, she flinches instinctively at the invasion of her personal space but then relaxes and leans into my side. I pour her another drink that she doesn't touch.
"So where do you come from?" she asks again, still safely in the familiar territory of small talk 101.
"Eh?"
"You and your friend, your accent is quite strong."
"Oh, well we worked down south for many years together before travelling up here in search of work."
"South?" she asks with interest
"Fire country." I say anchoring my lies in truth.
"Oh! Fire country, I've heard its wonderful this time of year! So much warmer than all this horrible snow."
"Yes, but the girls aren't nearly as pretty." I say with a happy eye crease. She blushes scarlet, which I have always found an endearing quality in a women, and from the corner of my eye I see Genma mouth "smooth" accompanied with a heavy wink before his new best friend once again shoves her tongue down his throat.
"So," she coughs into her hand shyly "What's under the mask Kakashi? Is it a big secret or are you just being mysterious?"
"Heh, well in actual fact I am just so unbelievably handsome that I have to cover it up to avoid hoards of screaming women."
"Really?" she asks with a bright smile.
"No, in fact I am so hideously disfigured that I have to cover it up to avoid causing hoards of screaming women." I deadpan.
"You're making fun of me now!" she laughs behind her hand.
I reach forward and take hold of the hand covering her mouth and gently run my thumb over her palm in a reassuring gesture before lowering it back onto her lap.
"You shouldn't cover your mouth when you laugh. You have a lovely smile." I say holding her gaze.
She blushes again, even deeper than before and leans further into my side and surprises me with a rather forward question.
"Will you show me your face later?"
"Probably" I say back.
Later comes sooner than expected. Genma and the enthusiastic Keiko excuse themselves with a quick mumble of "see you back at the hotel" when their at-the-table fondling goes from slightly disturbing too highly inappropriate. He throws a wad of cash down on the sticky surface of the table, enough to cover our tab and then some, and disappears out of the bar with the redhead clinging onto his waist trying to keep her balance on silver heeled stilettos. I count the money on the table and notice there is enough for another bottle of saké.
"Keiko seems…nice." I murmur raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
"She's not really that bad, I suppose you get used to it when you have to work with someone for so long."
"Fancy getting a bottle to go?" I say to the girl sitting beside me.
She seems to contemplate my offer for a moment before nodding the affirmative. I gesture to the barman and order his finest bottle to go and we leave, walking a slight distance apart.
The night air is bitterly cold compared to the stifling temperature of the busy bar and automatically the distance between us closes. She doesn't seem to notice when I steer her into a dark brick lined alleyway until I spin her round and push her forcefully against the wall. Everything about her body language tenses and the widening of her eyes is barely visible in the darkness but then I am drawing her legs up around my waist and she is gasping in surprise as one large palm pushes up her knee length skirt around her waist and grips the well toned curve of her ass. My fingers thread into lace and she gasps again as the rough icy surface of the brickwork grates against her exposed skin and she instinctively locks her ankles at the small of my back to keep from slipping. One small hand threads into my hair and another rests on against my cheek, her fingers curling over the edge of the mask and pulling it down in a quick frantic motion. Our mouths crash together and all of her shyness from before seems to dissolve. Her mouth is hot and welcoming in contrast with the elements and I thrust my tongue deeper seeking more, enjoying the whimpers and moans she makes as she struggles to keep up with the slick muscle working against her own. It's violent and primal and completely satisfying when our teeth clash or when she bites down slightly on my bottom lip. The sharp pulling sensation has me growling into her mouth as I fumble with her clothes, ripping the buttons from her blouse to work my hand into the folds of the fabric, all the while I clutch onto the neck of the saké bottle, using it as an anchor to keep me grounded. My hands cup at her breasts through the lacy fabric of her bra and she shudders violently moaning into my kiss once more when I roll a cold-hardened nipple back and forth between my fingers. I can see the combination of the weather and my ministrations raising goose flesh along her bare arms. I repeat the action harder and she's arching up into me, pressing herself flush against my chest. My hand snakes behind her feeling my way to the clasp at the back of her lace bra and its then that I find what I'm looking for.
I draw back from her slightly, breaking contact with her mouth for the first time and she looks up at me with lust heavy eyes panting and squirming against my hips. But I just stare at her.
"You really are beautiful." She whispers and I suppose that the pale contours of my face must be eerily bright in the surrounding darkness.
She traces the shape of my jaw with one index finger drinking in my appearance and biting her kiss swollen bottom lip until she feels my hand work its way out from beneath her blouse to present her with the thin piece of metal. It glints brightly and mockingly in the space between our faces and her eyes are suddenly wide with comprehension
"No. Wait!"
But already I have stepped away from the wall and without the support of it behind her she falls heavily onto the slush covered ground, her legs releasing their strangle hold around my waist. There's a loud 'ouff' as the air is forcibly expelled from her lungs and then the sound of smashing glass as I bring the saké bottle crashing down against the wall, the liquid contents pours out and I force the jagged edge still in my hands through her throat. It gouges a messy bloody path across her windpipe and the severed tendons snap up like elastic bands as they are cut. This happens so fast…too fast. Life – Death.
I pull up the fabric pooled around my neck back over my nose and run as fast as I can towards the hotel.
Part of me wonders if I have made a mistake.
That part of me is silenced almost immediately as I push down the image of the broken girl lying in the alleyway.
I hear the pleasured moans before I even reach the room and kick the door clean off its hinges. Keiko has her back to the door and whips her head around in shock at the deafening splintering and hastily tries to cover her breasts with an arm as I march towards her. She is naked save for the knee high stiletto-boots I saw her tottering around in earlier and Genma who is also naked laying between her spread legs, sits up with confused outrage set in the furrows of his brow.
"Hatake! What the fuck!"
But I pay him no mind as I grab her by the hair and pull her off him, he scrabbles with the sheets trying cover himself while pulling me off of her, but I'm too fast and too sure of myself. I throw her across the room and her forehead slams with echoing force into the far wall.
"Hatake!" he bellows forgetting the sheet and grabbing my arms and pulling them forcefully behind my head, I can hear the groan of muscle and bone as my shoulder threatens to dislocate and we fall to the floor in a writhing mess as he continues to restrain me.
Then suddenly the girls enraged scream tears through the room and she's rushing towards us, a small silver dagger clutched in her hand bearing down towards my throat. I hear Genma's exclamation of "Shit!" and feel his warm breath against my ear before he releases my arms, the smell of saké strong in our close proximity. She dives towards me, naked and furious and I pull off the ground awkwardly, thrusting my foot up into her chin as hard as I possibly can from my position on the floor, there is a loud crack as her neck snaps backwards and her naked body slumps on top of us pinning us to the floor.
For the longest moment there is only harsh panting and my own awkward awareness that I am sandwiched between the naked body of my partner and the naked body of a dead girl.
"How did you know." He asks me still breathless.
I pull the dagger out of her grip and fold it back into the shape of a chrome stiletto heel, it slots back into place neatly on her black boot. Then I reach into the boot itself and after much uncertain fumbling pull out a small book. I find my picture almost instantly and Genma's seconds later along with several other ninja we are both familiar with.
"How bout we get the fuck out of here?" he mumbles behind me.
"Excellent idea."
"Hatake?"
"Yeah?"
"I never thought I'd say this to someone who interrupted me getting laid…but thanks."
"No problem."
"Hatake?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you get off me now."
"Sure."
The pen that had been working furiously over the surface of the clipboard stopped its frantic motion and the doctor looked back up into the gaze of the silver haired man sitting in front of her. From his slouched and lazy posture it seemed almost impossible to reconcile the man before her with the brutal soldier from his story. At the same time Ishihara Risa had been working with shinobi for most of her life. Nothing really surprised her anymore.
"How old were you at the time of this incident Kakashi?"
"Twenty four."
"And this is something that demonstrates a lack of humanity and acute paranoia?"
"Yes. I killed them both with no emotion, I drove a broken bottle into a young girls throat without flinching. I didn't even give her time to think about putting up a fight and I did all of that because I was too paranoid to drink and relax in unknown territory."
"What would you have done if you had have been wrong about them."
"I am a genius. I knew I wasn't wrong."
"But you said yourself you wondered if you'd made a mistake."
"Everyone second guesses themselves but the evidence on that occasion seemed irrefutable. The dynamic between the girls was that of two people who had to work with each other, they would have never socialised together out of choice. Keiko drank only the first two of her drinks, the girl with me drank nothing at all and just mimed. She showed specific interest in certain lines of questioning but was almost too cautious for the conversation to seem natural. When I felt her hand it was rough and calloused, a maid would not have had hands that rough. Her natural reactions to the invasion of her body space were too quick and too precise, in the alleyway her body was far too lean and muscular to be anything but a kunoichi's and then I found a senbon hidden in her bra. I would have liked very much to have been wrong but I wasn't."
"Do you think she would have killed you?"
"Given the chance, of course and probably in my sleep with a big happy grin on my face."
"Do you realise that you didn't refer to the girl you were with by name once?"
"I can't remember it."
"But you remembered her team-mates name though didn't you?"
"So?"
"So, don't you think that is a sign of distancing yourself emotionally? That you have omitted her name from your recollection of the events because then she would be a person not an enemy if you didn't? And that maybe a tiny part of you is unsure if she would have tried to harm you?"
Kakashi shifted in his seat his gaze hardening into an annoyed glare.
"Your point?" he snarled out angrily.
"Another coping mechanism. Proof that you feel guilty which in itself is proof that you are very much human." She said with the tiniest trace of a smirk "you maybe acutely paranoid but despite what you think you seem far from inhuman."
Kakashi opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by a held up index finger signifying silence.
"That's about all we have time for today Kakashi, I will see you next week at two o'clock."
"Wait…I have to come back?" Kakashi said disbelievingly
"Of course, we will be having weekly sessions until I feel like I have built up a proper picture of your mental condition. Hokage's orders."
Ishihara Risa smiled to herself as the tall jounin stood with an almost childish stamp and made his way to the door swearing softly under his breath.
"and Kakashi-san?"
"Hn."
"Please don't be late."
*
AN: so what do you think so far? I am aware there is probably a complete massacring of tenses in there and probably some dyslexic (artistic!) mistakes but it's the best I could do without a beta! –updates maybe inconsistent as Porcelain Orchid is my main focus but I will try and update on a semi-regular basis. There will probably only be about 4 chapters to this anyway and the next one will most probably be smutty. Thanks for reading: SlinkyM
