The Lady Magistrate Receives Guests;
Their Conversations and the Results Thereof
Orimi Hirai, resplendent in magisterial raiment -- a long, sea-blue waist-coat worn over overlapping, silver-cuffed robes embroidered with fish, coral and sea-monster designs, and with a flared, sapphire-colored, tasseled cap atop her head, looked out her expansive, bay window towards the crowds that had already started to gather around the ribbon-festooned portals of the newly-repaired and reopened Great Naruto Bridge.
The woman was not at all comfortable yet in her new role, her spirits subdued and mired in gloom by the execution of her superior and friend of many years, Toru Yamashite. This all-but-simultaneous divergence in their fates even after a month and a half she still found difficult to bear.
The memory flickered unbidden in her mind, crackly, sporadic and unclear, like a radio signal traveling over vast distances: the memory of the assassin, Krishaney Rahaman. Orimi could only barely recall his face as the monstrous ninja, the Mizukage's personal emissary, stepped toward Toru and her through the fading mist. Both ANBU knew why he'd come.
'Just say the word', Orimi remembered whispering to her stout commander while dropping her hand to her hip where her weapon, the razor-edged sparrow-dart, rested, 'and he's dead!' That had been the first time in her patriot's life that she'd ever contemplated an act of treason against her own Hidden Village, although she hadn't thought about it like that at the time.
Toru had only looked back at her, his black-framed, bottle-thick glasses making his eyes look large, bulgy and penetrating, and shook his head. 'Stand down, Orimi,' he'd said in low, gruff growl.
Another first then as the woman considered outright mutiny, a deliberate refusal of an order given by her commanding officer, but the ANBU captain put a heavy, reassuring hand on her shoulder.
'Who's going to be in charge of the team if we both die,' he'd ventured smoothly, musing in a confidential tone, 'Yukimasa, Aya, Eiji? You KNOW what a train-wreck that would be.'
The veteran kunoichi had almost hurt something trying not to cry; lips trembling over clenched teeth. Maudlin displays of emotion like this clashed hard against her Hirai clan ethos, which favored stoicism.
'Don't worry, Orimi,' offered Toru with a casual, fatalistic grin. 'I kind of saw this coming. You know,' he muttered distantly, deliberately ignoring his killer's ponderous approach, 'when I was a genin, I thought the Mizukage and his councilors were like, I don't know, heroes or something; I'm talking like right out of mythology, smart…strong, brave, and dedicated above all to Kirigakure no Sato and the Land of Water.
'But that was a long time ago,' the man continued, almost laughing at the way he used to be. 'I've known for awhile now, years and years, that they're only flawed human beings like the rest of us, a lot of the time WORSE than the rest of us, and that us ninja serve their greed and cowardice a whole lot more often than we serve our country.'
The ANBU Captain's eyes narrowed then as he scowled. 'But I stayed on anyway, didn't I. Huh,' Toru grunted, 'and I even dared to think there was something noble about my loyalty.'
Orimi, trembling tensely and still ready to fight, retorted forcefully, 'We swore oaths, Toru!'
'But we still have eyes to see and minds to reason, don't we?' Toru gave her a look. 'You see, Orimi, ever since the moment I could see through the fiction; see our 'illustrious' leader for who and what he was, and STILL chose to follow him, from that moment on his failings became mine; his decisions, mine; his mistakes, mine,' the ANBU captain expressed a desolate sigh, 'and his crimes…mine. After all, without people like me backing him up, what is he – just a guy in a fancy hat.
'And now he's decided he needs to have me killed. After all the civil wars, then the genocide against those who possessed the blood-gift, and the purges that followed that; after so many OTHERS have died at his word, am I now supposed to complain how unfair it is? No,' the big ninja answered. 'I can't do it.
'And frankly,' Toru added, smiling grimly, ' if that kid, Haku, can own up to his past and face destiny with grace right up to the end, then, sure as sh-t, I should be able to.'
Orimi, standing there in her office as if she'd just then materialized, gulped and shook herself free of the memory -- it hurt too much to recall.
She WAS loyal to her former pack-leader though, wasn't she, the ninja asked herself, after six years of learning Toru's strange brand of wisdom and facing death at his side? So what did that mean? Must she now feel compelled to avenge herself against her wicked and craven lord, the Mizukage, and the whole Land of Water? That seemed a touch extravagant, maybe even vain…like Zabuza Momochi had been. Or was it more proper to live on as her departed sensei would have wished?
The kunoichi strayed from the window, slipping from the sunlight, then walked along her office's tall, wood-paneled walls to where a small altar hung. Atop it was a framed photograph of the late ANBU captain along with an offering of fruit and anise seeds. Taking a deep breath, Orimi lit two sticks of mild incense and set them in place in a bowl alongside the rest, then pressed her hands together and bowed her head in reverent remembrance.
The man's expression in that picture was enough to make Orimi feel better, and she smiled at all the obscenities she felt sure Toru would scream in her face if she cast aside this promotion and martyred herself on his behalf.
Orimi HAD always wanted to advance, to BE somebody and DO important things. Didn't everyone? The kunoichi shut her eyes, overwhelmed momentarily by life's cruel ironies which stung almost beyond bearing. Success was hardly worth the trouble without those you cared about around to share it with.
'Wave Country', she recalled distinctly as her fingers brushed absently against her round face, 'Mission to Wave Country', that was the title of the briefing. What followed had been a set of simple instructions directing Toru's ANBU team to seek and destroy at whatever the cost, the traitor, Zabuza, and his young protégé, Haku.
Had anyone told her at the time what the outcome would be, Orimi never would have believed it. Her Pack-Leader, Toru, executed for no other reason than the Mizukage was suspicious and afraid of his own jonin because of what the so-called 'Demon of the Hidden Mist' had done; and herself – promoted to magistrate and placed in charge of Wave County's newly-established security forces, with the rest of the team disbanded.
Eiji Tohei had been called back to Kirigakure for further training, and Aya sent to the Village's newly-established medical corps. Yukimasa had gone on to a cushy-sounding senior staff position with the Councilor, Lady Chinami Inoue, who, as Orimi had learned from back-channels, had initiated this partial takeover of Wave Country with the Mizukage's assent.
So…just like that, Orimi found herself alone and in command.
Somewhat surprising, an added complication -- the seal and signature on the official documents of her promotion were those of her great-grandfather, Councilor Kissohamaru Hirai.
How long had it been since she'd even SEEN the grand old man? the Magistrate wondered. Ten years at least, she thought, since cousin Nishii's wedding. The Hirai clan was huge, so she didn't expect regular contact. Although the woman distinctly remembered the sting she'd felt when she'd overheard that the clan Patriarch hadn't thought much of her decision to try out for the ANBU. 'Glorified blood-hounds', was what he'd said, 'blunt instruments of policy.'
At the back of her mind Orimi wondered if it was her relationship to the august ninja lord alone that had won her this post. Whether the assumption was true or not, she had her work cut out to overcome the appearance of blatant nepotism.
The woman's eyes flickered sideways then as one of her young bodyguards, Utako, let her know that her morning's first appointment was waiting, and so Orimi turned away from the altar to get into character.
Magistrate Hirai looked over the three-man team she'd picked, more or less at random from her ranks, to protect her and regretted not having given the matter greater consideration. Chizuzu…something or other, Orimi always had trouble remembering her last name, meant well but had the attention span of a gnat. Daigo Tenge, was a decently-focused young man, but needed to lighten up a little. Like the new magistrate herself, the boy came from long-established, very old-school ninja clan, so that part was going to take time if it ever happened at all. Utako Ito was hard to read. That she was the quiet type didn't bother Orimi so much as why, and hoped it was nothing more than typical adolescent reticence.
This was the first girl-dominated squad Orimi had ever encountered, and so far hadn't detected any meaningful differences between them and their male-centric counterparts, though she suspected Daigo would be in for some singularly brutal crap further down the line.
Poor guy, she thought, only half-sarcastically, doesn't know what he's in for.
It didn't seem to Orimi like it had been that long since she herself had graduated from the Mist's Martial School but these three genin, who were all between twelve and thirteen, were already making her feel old well beyond her years -- like a grandmother!
Daigo and Utako, still slightly drowsy from the earliness of the hour, parted a pair of paneled double-doors and ushered in the Magistrate's guests.
"Ah, good morning Miss Okore," greeted Orimi with the calm, confident tenor she felt expected of her, "Mr. Sato and Mister…?"
"Tazuna," the grumpy-looking oldest of the visitors declared. "Just call me Tazuna, Ma'am. Everybody does."
Orimi studied the three discreetly as they all sat down then exchanged pleasantries over tea.
Miss Keiya Okore was the most physically striking of her guests – a short woman with tightly-braided jet hair, dark skin, with features and accents that indicated clearly that she hailed from very far away; a land more exotic than Orimi had ever visited. Almost as if to counter that, she wore a simple, conservative dress in tasteful, muted earth-tones gathered with a sash around her admirably slender waist.
Her business partner, Yoichiro Saito, was tall, thick and fleshy, with remnants of thinning brown hair, and wore a tailored, deep blue suit over a striped, buttoned-down shirt.
Tazuna, Orimi knew of, of course, but had never met before. He was a local guy, a civil and structural engineer by education, but was in himself the tip of a huge wedge of economic power and industry, of which his two companions were a part. In her life, Orimi had met few people like this grey-haired, powerfully-built bridge-builder, around which so much revolved. It had been he who'd drawn Gato's ire enough to sic Zabuza and Haku on him in the first place, and who'd had the wherewithal to hire that ninja team from the Hidden Leaf Village, Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke Uchiha, Sakura Haruno, and their sensei, the copy-ninja, Kakashi Hatake, to protect him.
If not for him, Orimi couldn't help but muse, if not for him.
It was hard for the woman not to blame Tazuna for all that had transpired. There was such a satisfying convenience in taking the sum of all of her life's complexities, the deaths, tragedies and abrupt changes, and ascribe them to this one man. But below the superficiality of things, Orimi realized it was not that simple.
The two men, Tazuna and Saito, clearly had little patience just for slow custom, and bided their time, grunting on occasion, but otherwise contributing nothing to the conversation.
"Well," offered Orimi in the proper order. "What is it you wished to see me about this morning? You left my adjutant with the impression that your need was quite urgent."
Yoichiro smiled tightly. "About this latest edict," he began and brought out the notice one of Orimi's genin had served him with. The businessman's brow lifted expressively. "You can't be serious?"
Inwardly, Orimi rolled her eyes. Why no, she thought, I always issue edicts I don't intend to enforce. I just sit here all day with nothing better to do. "It's true, I'm afraid," she began politely. "The order was issued by a majority of Water Country's Daimyo. I hope you understand there's nothing I can do."
"But this is…this is an injunction against the use of machinery of practically every sort – loaders, back-hoes, spreaders, mixers," the man went on then looked up, his expression incredulous, "even dump-trucks and flatbeds!"
Orimi pressed her palms together and nodded sagely.
"Lady Magistrate, you have to understand what we're trying to do here. We're running a major construction operation, and it can't be done without all those things. Take just ONE steel beam, just for example," Mr. Saito illustrated, taking up a professorial air which Orimi did not at all appreciate, "well, that could weigh thirty to fifty pounds per linear foot. So if you have a thirty-foot long span, then --."
"Mr. Saito --," the Magistrate attempted delicately to interrupt.
"Or think about those reinforced-concrete double-tees we used to build The Great Naruto Bridge! They're huge! And heavy! You can't move one of those by hand. And all the site-work and earth-moving; digging trenches for power, water, sewer, gas and everything else – what are we supposed to use to excavate hundreds of cubic yards of dirt, shovels?"
"And I sympathize, but --."
"Plus, we've got schedules to keep," Saito persisted. "Having the bridge out for so long alone set us back --."
"Mr. Saito!" the kunoichi snapped as softly as she could and still break in. "I understand your position, I really do," Orimi began in a semblance of diplomacy. "Now you must understand mine. Prohibitions-against and limitations-on specified technologies are ages-old. They were part of the treaties signed between the Land of Water and all the other Elemental Countries, and include all provinces, protectorates and, I quote, 'territories under the influence of any power included as a signatory'. The provisions of these treaties keep us out of war. They're written in stone," the Magistrate emphasized with a flourish. "They were in place long before I arrived on the scene and will remain long after I leave.
"Having said all that," Orimi concluded in a stern voice so as to leave no doubt, "I absolutely intend to enforce this edict."
Tazuna, sitting back with his hands rested behind his head, blurted carelessly: "Told ya'!"
Saito gave the man a withering look then frowned seriously. Here was a man clearly unused to being told 'no'.
"Lady Magistrate," Kieya prevailed softly before her companion could fire up again. "I do hope you will forgive our forwardness. We don't at all mean to be presumptive, but we are desperate. Is there nothing you can do?"
The ANBU collected herself and placed her arms coolly on the top of her desk. "I have taken the liberty on your behalf," she explained in a conciliatory tone, "to petition the lords of The Land of Water for a variance."
"Oh!" piped Saito, his mood changing in an instant from dismay to delight. "Well, that's fine then," he said with a smile. "We'll get a variance."
"No," Orimi clarified, shaking her head. "You won't. If you wished to have special permission to use otherwise-prohibited technologies for a specified time then you should have talked to all the daimyos' interior ministries, stroked egos, soothed feeling and offered --," she stumbled, not wanting to use the word 'bribe', "suitable and substantial consideration."
Saito stared at her, mystified. "Then what's the point --?"
Miss Okore touched him lightly on the shoulder, then asked Orimi: "How long a time does that give us?"
The Magistrate frowned in thought. "My messengers should take two weeks to deliver my requests; I told them not to rush. The various officials involved will take probably thirty days to answer. Another two weeks back…"
"Eight weeks," said Sato like a death sentence. His shoulders slumped. "It's not enough time. It's nowhere NEAR enough."
"I'm sorry," offered Orimi sincerely, "that's all I can do. When your request is denied, I'll have no choice but to enforce the edict. Any prohibited equipment still present in the Land of Waves will be seized, by force if that's what it comes to, then dumped into the sea."
Saito shook his ruddy-colored, balding head. "It's barbaric!" he spat in disgust.
The Magistrate winced at this. "Will you stop your whining!" Orimi hissed back, her patience fraying, unused to such backbiting commentary. Aside from the rogue ninja and sundry criminals she'd encountered over her years with the ANBU, everyone else she'd ever known or interacted with since birth FOLLOWED ORDERS. "All this is because of you anyway," she threw back testily. "You move in here, looking to cash in, and practically take over the place, except you don't spend even a single ryo for security. What did you think was going to happen when you bring in men by the thousands and money by the cart-load? Did you think nobody would want a piece, or that all those guys who worked for Gato would just go away? There was an entire army of mercenaries gearing up to lay waste to this place, in case you've forgotten," the woman scolded them. "And they would have too, if not for my ANBU team's intervention. If anything, you should be grateful that we're here risking our lives on your behalf."
Sato's face wriggled as he tried to limit his reaction. "Kirigakure is hardly here for our benefit," the man countered sourly. "And as you illustrated earlier, we certainly have a price to pay – being subject to your rule."
"For the record," Tazuna asserted himself suddenly, "not all of us are looking to 'cash in', as you put it. I LIVE here, so does my daughter and grandchild; that means something to me." The man's stern gaze swept between the Magistrate and his own companions. "I didn't put my life on the line against Gato's gang or Zabuza Momochi himself so I could get rich; I did it because I want the Land of Waves to be a place of spirit and dignity – a place where life has value."
The engineer cocked his head at Okore and Saito. "This is just an investment opportunity for them. Sure, maybe there's something more high-minded and, what-you-call, 'altruistic' behind their reasons why, but they're not FROM here." The man looked over his glasses at Orimi and said plainly: "Neither are you! As for gratitude, we'll see. We all know that at some point, Kirigakure will either decide to leave, HAVE to leave…or take over completely. So you see: it's hard to tell how sloppy we should get in thanking you when we don't know how it's all going to work out."
Tense, thick silence engulfed the room. Even Lady Hirai's bodyguards, Chizuzu, Daigo and Utako, who stood at the back and sides of the room, made an effort not to breathe too loudly.
"If I may," said Keiya Okore, anxious to restore a less contrary atmosphere, "since it appears we are all to coexist in this land for the immediate future, I propose it would be helpful to speak for a moment on those matters on which we agree. Lady Magistrate," the woman ventured with a professional's delicacy, "it is true that the promise of profit drives our enterprise. However, being that the money our investors have put up is at great risk, does it not make sense that the rewards should be equally great for having undertaken that risk if these projects turn out successfully?"
Orimi shrugged. "Sure, why not," she acquiesced blandly. The ANBU would not say 'no' to something that sounded perfectly reasonable but neither would she commit to it, knowing that logic was not a reflection of reality but only a tool that had many purposes.
"Since it seems we must go through the proper channels in the Land of Water before we can proceed as we wish to then that is what we shall do, however difficult. We understand, of course, that we have to abide by your rules even if we find them inconvenient," the short, dark-hued woman offered the Magistrate, then turned to Tazuna, "and that we must also be sympathetic and accommodating to the aspirations of those who have roots here." Smiling brightly, she returned to the mist-ninja. "As for security, we are indeed thankful for your sincere efforts, and are not at all oblivious to its necessity. After all…here you are."
Orimi's expression blanked as it felt to her that she'd just slipped from the shallow end of the pool to the deep. Toru had warned her that this Okore woman spoke like she had connections.
"So," the kunoichi ventured, hoping she'd just misread the small woman's inflection, "you knew we'd come."
Keiya nodded, though not proudly. "There's much too much ventured here to let it go unguarded. Although it was my hope that your Mr. Yamashite would be appointed magistrate. I conversed with him once, only briefly, but it was enough to convince me of the quality his character, that he had an open mind in some respects and that we could trust him." Her eyes went toward the small altar Orimi had set up in his memory, then fell away as if she thought that too delicate a subject to broach any further. "Now that we are without him," intoned Miss Okore, acknowledging in her voice how subservient they all were to fate, "we hope that we may place our trust in you."
Terrific, Orimi pondered glumly once her guests had left. There was hardly enough time to really digest what had just transpired in the first meeting when it was time for a second. This one promised to be even more fun, being with the representatives of three angry Fire Country daimyo, accompanied by an emissary from their Hidden Leaf Village -- a jonin kunoichi named Anko Mitarashi.
"Remind me," the Magistrate told one of her young genin bodyguards, Utako, with deadly seriousness, "never, ever again schedule a meeting before ten."
The visiting leaf-ninja, Anko, managed to piss Orimi off even before she'd cleared the threshold. She was lithe and beautiful in a flamboyant, tomboy sort of way, with an athletic, curvaceous figure that immediately made Orimi feel compelled to go on a diet. In she walked, like she owned the place, dressed for the occasion in her finest fishnet worn beneath a tan trench-coat.
Orimi raised an eyebrow and held back an expression of greater disbelief. Does that pass for a regulation uniform in Konohagakure? she wondered snidely, but still had to give her visitor some respect for having come alone.
Daigo's eyes bugged as he looked over the somewhat-strange rival kunoichi with both personal interest and as a perspective adversary, whereupon Anko returned a cavalier glance that let the boy know he wouldn't be any more than a snack for her…either way you wanted to take it.
Behind the leaf-ninja trailed the three representatives of offended parties that were either too busy, too cowardly or otherwise couldn't be bothered to come in person.
Orimi leaned back, blew out a breath and mentally cracked open a cold one. This was going to take awhile. Really, she could give a crap about what any of these sock-puppets thought…but Anko, Anko was a different story. From her the Magistrate presumed she'd learn if her master, the Hokage, intended an attack in reprisal for Orimi's cross-border raids, which she'd initiated to reclaim assets bled from the Land of Waves by Gato's criminal enterprises. It had seemed like a wonderful idea at the time, and coincided nicely with the new Magistrate's sense of propriety – take back what had been stolen, and use the money to re-establish what had fallen into ruin. It made sense! There was even a legal precedent, at least if considered from the right frame of reference.
In retrospect, Orimi considered, it might have been more prudent to draw the line at Fire Country's borders.
After a perfunctory exchange of courtesies, the three visitors vented their outrage in no uncertain terms at Orimi's having sent ninja to steal from their masters. Anko, for her part, merely stood in the background with a weary, distracted expression that conveyed nothing except that she didn't want to be here.
As the representatives continued on for the better part of an hour, getting bolder with their criticisms and dismissing the Magistrate's attempts to consol them, the ANBU found herself getting progressively angrier. If all she had to do was sit there and be yelled at in order to avoid conflict with Konohagakure no Sato, then she was more than willing to do that. But all things had their limit, and when the first hour passed the woman had reached hers.
"Enough!" shouted Orimi at last, startling her guests and fixing the leaf-ninja's attention for the first time. "You've all made your points quite clear. Now allow me to make mine," she enunciated more for Anko's benefit than the three. "The treaty that exists between the Elemental Countries allows me to follow criminals across international boundaries."
The mist-ninja drew herself up before continuing, "In other words: if you steal my coin purse, I can follow you…all the way into Fire Country if that's where you go. If you drop it on the ground, am I supposed to leave it there? We all know the answer to that, is no. It's been well-established through precedent that I can reclaim stolen goods, or abducted persons or livestock for that matter. It follows then, by my interpretation as magistrate, that should you hand my stolen purse to a friend for safe-keeping, that I can take it from the friend. And if you put the money you find in it in a bank, then I can (and will!) take it from the bank.
"In case you're still unclear on the concept – there are no series of transactions, no processes however elaborate, which can turn Gato's money clean."
Orimi crossed her arms firmly; her stare dared the three to say something. "Being that I have nothing more to say on this matter, and have heard from you all I care to, I'll just call this meeting to a close." The woman threw a look at Anko. "Unless, of course, the representative from the Hidden Leaf Village has something to add?"
Anko raised her hand benignly and shook her head. "Nah," she offered bluntly, "I'm good."
Orimi suppressed a grimace. No glimpses of the Hokage's plans were forthcoming, and really, it didn't look like this jonin knew anything about them anyway. "Very well, then."
"Lady Magistrate?" Anko inquired, at which Orimi tensed.
"Yes, Miss Mitarashi?"
"Thanks for seeing us. Is there a good place to eat around here?"
The mist-ANBU cocked her head curiously at this. "I'm sorry?"
Anko grinned and rubbed the back of her head. "It's a long way back to the Hidden Leaf Village and I'd like to grab a bite before I go," she explained. "I'm kind of in a hurry too. I've got chunin exams to proctor, and I CAN'T be late."
Orimi paused in thought, wondering if there was a test of some sort, but decided to take her at face value. "Well…there's a lot of places on the south and west ends of the construction," the Magistrate answered uncertainly. "Nothing fancy as yet…"
"Dango?" the jonin specified. "Dumplings?"
"Yeah," answered Orimi after a moment's thought, "a place called Sun Palace just opened down the block. It's kind of greasy and draws a rough crowd but --."
"Hey! Hey, don't OVERSELL me," the woman piped with an eager, sanguine smile then paced out, leaving behind the three she was supposed to be guarding.
Orimi's cross look was enough to send them scampering after her, with the Magistrate's three mist-genin following behind to make sure they caught up.
What the hell's that Hokage thinking, the ANBU pondered, sending a ninja who couldn't care less about her own mission? Her brow rose as the question seemed to answer itself. Unless, she rolled the idea around in her mind, that IS the message.
Of course, Orimi concluded with a smirk. He has no interest at all in fighting over some two-bit daimyos' stolen treasures.
But Anko had been strong and confident too, enough to venture alone into a land controlled by a rival ninja village's garrison. Ah, the Magistrate discerned. In other words, don't think you can make a habit of trespassing. Right, old man, I think I got cha'.
Orimi sat back in her chair and steepled her hands, head tilted back meditatively. It's going to be a long tour of duty, she was beginning to realize. Gradually, the ninja grew aware of her three recently-returned genin who waited just a little too anxiously.
"Speak," she urged them.
"Yeah, um," began Daigo in the official-sounding tough-guy voice that was his default, "there's some GUY here to see you, Lady Orimi."
Mmm, thought Orimi, how very informative. Though she knew from the way he'd said it that it was some poor bastard he wanted to beat up.
"But he seems really nice!" added Chizuzu, whose tone illuminated that the visitor was young and attractive.
Orimi winced and tried to remember if she'd been this naïve at that age.
"We would've told him to piss-off, but he said he knows you," Utako offered, a little more helpfully. "'Said his name's Hiroo Okame."
The Magistrate's eyes widened. That's…that's the alias Haku was using, the woman remembered with a foreboding chill. Could it really be HIM again? Orimi cast her thoughts back to the bloody and bedraggled wraith she remembered, wandering away again at liberty after Toru had released him, off into the mists never to be seen again, or so she'd assumed.
What could Haku want here? That kid's kinda strange – is he just here because he's feeling sentimental or something, her dark eyes narrowed fiercely, or is he here to kill everyone in the place? With the forces she had on hand, there wasn't much that could stop him.
"Lady Magistrate?" Chizuzu interrupted nervously. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Orimi managed in a cool voice. "I do know him. Please, send him in."
The woman's expression hardened slightly. Damn it if I'm going to tremble in fear of some punk kid…in my own office no less, she thought, then patted herself to check the sparrow-dart concealed beneath her robes.
Her three young ninja returned. With them, surely enough, walked Haku, The Demon's Apprentice, hardly looking at all the worse for the terrible fight he'd been in. The teenager smiled with awkward grace, his hands clasped in front of him. For whatever reason, his wardrobe had returned to the sorts of things he'd worn while laying-low: a grey, hooded jacket with a pouch in front, baggy jeans and work boots.
Orimi spared a glance at her guards' un-reassuring expressions. Daigo stared at the newcomer with a challenging air of superiority, like some mountain ram whose only mission in life was to butt heads with someone equally stupid. Chizuzu smiled demurely, enchanted by her guest's sweet face, and gestured for Haku to come in, while Utako looked on somewhat bored and detached from it all. It was clear that none of them had a clue who this guy was; that he was Zabuza Momochi's sole disciple, dangerous criminal and fugitive, whose master had come within inches of assassinating their lord, the Mizukage!
F-ck! Orimi grumbled as she realized: I'll bet they didn't even THINK to check him for weapons.
A hired servant brought in a fresh pot of tea while Orimi rose and greeted her visitor with a polite bow. "Mr. Okame," she offered placidly. "What an unexpected pleasure to see you again."
Haku returned her bow. "Thank you, Lady Magistrate. And thank you for receiving me."
He certainly seems composed if he came here to kill me, she thought, then looked again to her guards. As green as they were, if there was a fight, they'd probably just get in the way. She signaled discreetly for them to go, but they didn't catch it.
Suppressing a sigh, Orimi looked over at them. "Chizuzu, Daigo, Utako." The three looked at her as she gestured. "Wait outside, if you please."
Both Magistrate and Demon's Apprentice waited until the three guards had gone, and then heard the doors close and the latch click.
"You look good, Haku," continued Orimi conversationally as she took a seat behind her desk. Though the woman seemed at ease, a subtle chakra flow prepared her organs and muscles for the fight of her life. "I'm pleased to see you've recovered so soon."
"And you, Lady Orimi," began Haku as his head lifted toward the scent of incense in the air and his eyes fell on Toru Yamashite's photograph. The sight of it silenced him. After a moment, the boy looked back at the kunoichi. "I'm sorry for your loss," he offered and bowed his head.
Orimi prickled at the sarcasm she expected, considering who Haku was, yet the young ninja's voice and manner slowly convinced the Magistrate that he was serious. With her temper cooled, she nodded in acceptance of her former quarry's consolations. "And yours," she managed with equal reverence, then paused.
"I confess though," said Orimi at length, "this comes as something of a surprise. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
Haku smiled with gentle understanding. "I like it here," he confessed. "The Land of Waves has a good…energy, I don't know how else to put it. It's going through a difficult period of change right now and I'm interested to see how it turns out, maybe even being a part of it. There's opportunity here and the weather suits me, but mostly," he leaned forward, his grey eyes filled with meaning as he intoned: "it's the people."
Orimi nodded and hummed thoughtfully, though in truth she found herself a little taken aback. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? she wondered. "Ah, how are the Tezukas', well I trust?"
"Oh, yes, very well," the teenager answered genially, then slipped in: "everyone's still getting used to these new security arrangements."
"Doubtless," agreed Orimi who studied the kid's face and body language. If Haku did intend to go on a Zabuza-esque rampage, he sure was good at hiding it. But maybe, just maybe, he had some other reason for coming. He seemed nervous but not like he was psyching himself up. Ok, she decided, I'll bite.
"So, Haku," the Lady Magistrate asked and leaned forward slyly, cognizant again of her sparrow-dart. At such close range, the weapon had both advantages and disadvantages which the kunoichi assumed Haku would know also. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
The teenager looked away then looked back, drew a calming breath and explained: "I was…dismissed from my job. The foreman was not very understanding of my being away for several weeks without explanation when I showed up for work this morning. So I thought I'd ask," his eyes rose toward hers, "if…you had any positions available?"
Orimi blinked, so nonplussed at the idea that she almost spilled her tea and quickly had to set it down. What, is he KIDDING; asking ME for a job?! she thought, frowned and sat back in her chair, torn between anger and laughter.
It was out of a question, of course...completely ludicrous.
Just what the HELL are you thinking? the question boiled in her mind. Is there ANYTHING in our history that would make you think it's ok even to ASK something like that?
The woman straightened to tell him, the blunt words forming as she opened her mouth to say them, but then she paused. On impulse, and trusting the young fugitive more perhaps than she should, the ninja turned fully around to look up at the photograph of her departed Pack-Leader, Toru.
Although…if I'm not going to kill him, and it seems as though I'm not, it would be a good way to keep track of him, Orimi ventured, at least recognizing the existence of counter-arguments. And if he's serious, he'd be pretty handy to have around…especially when I got so many people pissed-off at me.
The woman laughed at herself. Is this really your decision process? A few weeks ago you would have killed him on the spot…or tried to.
Yeah, well, she pointed out as part of a developing mental back-and-forth, kind of a lot's happened since then.
He's a damn WANTED CRIMINAL! a voice roared from the depths of her mind. Not at all, another disagreed. Haku WAS a wanted criminal but he's dead now, officially. THIS is Hiroo Okame.
Orimi's eyes narrowed at the audacity of her own argument. And I'm sure that rationalization will go over great at your court-martial, if you even GET a court martial.
Please! It's not like you've been trying to play it safe so far. You already figured out that won't save you necessarily. Look: before you sits probably the most talented ninja you've ever met, and you're, what, going to kick him to the curb? That's pretty freakin' weak.
In the back of her mind, left unvoiced, was the realization not just of who, but what this boy was – the last survivor of a clan that had been hunted to near-extinction, convenient scapegoats for a country wallowing in misery after years of murderous excess. People still feared those who possessed the kekkei-genkai, holding them to blame for the tragedies that had befallen the Land of Water, but Orimi had always had the sense for the truth – that they weren't to blame any more than anyone else; and that their lives had only been easy sacrifices for others to make.
Additionally, and much closer to home, Orimi was only just now starting to glimpse the scale and complexity of the game she now found herself playing. The rules were uncertain, shifting randomly. The stakes were life and death, and the other players seated at the table included Kieya Okore and those unseen parties she represented, both of Kirigakure's councilors, the Mizukage himself and, if she wasn't more careful, the Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village.
Sounds like a good way to get killed, the woman summarized. Yeah, you could definitely use some stronger shinobi on your side.
But then too, Orimi thought finally, Haku seems to actually CARE about this place and he's offering you his help. Are you really going to say 'no'?
The Magistrate, having settled on yet another question that seemed to answer itself, shared a grin with Toru's photograph, blaming HIM for this, then turned back towards Haku who was on pins and needles after having waited so long for a response.
Orimi Hirai folded her arms and asked: "do you have any experience?"
Zabuza's former student looked up with restrained surprise then nodded, smiling slightly. "Yes, Ma-am, eight years," he offered.
"References?"
Haku's grey eyes dipped then rose toward hers. "You," he offered, "assuming no hard feelings."
"When can you start?"
"Tomorrow," Haku announced and beamed.
"Oh?" replied Orimi, feigning shock, "not today?"
The kid shook his head. "There's one last thing I need to do – a personal matter I've been putting off. Besides, the rededication of The Great Naruto Bridge is at sunset. I'd hate to miss it."
The Magistrate smiled. It was a much more 'normal' sort of explanation than she'd expected. "That's fine then. Tomorrow's soon enough," Orimi said then added with a wily, conspiratorial grin, "Constable Okame."
Haku
Looking by chance in at the open window
I saw my own self seated in his chair
With gaze abstracted, furrowed forehead,
Unkempt hair.
I thought that I had suddenly come to die,
That to a cold corpse this was my farewell,
Until the pen moved slowly upon paper
And tears fell.
He had written a name, yours, in printed letters:
One word on which bemusedly to pore
No protest, no desire, your naked name,
Nothing more.
Would it be tomorrow, would it be next year?
But the vision was not false, this much I knew;
And I turned angrily from the open window
Aghast at you.
Why never a warning, either by speech or look,
That the love you cruelly gave me could not last?
Already it was too late: the bait swallowed,
The hook fast.
--David Sylvian, Upon This Earth.
Haku sat in the middle of the Tezukas' basement and stared bleakly at the blank sheet of paper, with only his fluffy, new pet rabbit he'd named 'Shiro' for company.
When he'd come home from Orimi Hirai's offices, full of enthusiasm and purpose, the ninja had cleared off the worktable that served as his bed and brought up a stool. Being Uncle Maceo's studio, Haku had quickly found all he needed: a roll of calligraphy paper, ink, and an entire set of brushes to choose from. He'd then taken a breath, sat down, and set to work on this letter bound for the Hidden Leaf Village and addressed…to Naruto Uzumaki.
His first draft had started off as a long and rambling description of everything that had happened to him: every thought, feeling and observation from the moment he'd lost consciousness at the first battle of the bridge until now. But he hadn't gone very far with that. Horrified, the ninja gaped at the crowded page, crumpled it up, crushed it into a ball, crushed it some more, then side-armed it across the room.
Haku's second try had began a little better, a more condensed iteration, but still seemed like it was developing into something a bit overly long and intimate to send to someone you really only barely knew.
And why would Naruto even care, the teenager vacillated. It's not like we were ever friends, not really. Anyway, just because you feel connected to him in some way doesn't mean he feels the same way about you.
The young shinobi thought back to the first time he'd seen Naruto, there on the road to the Land of Waves where Zabuza had confronted them. 'Sit this one out,' Zabuza had commanded his apprentice earlier. 'I can tell your heart isn't in it, Haku, and besides, I want their leader all to myself.'
Neither of them believed this team from Konoha capable of defeating Zabuza. When they did, that's when Haku had intervened by 'killing' his master with a pair of expertly-placed senbon to the neck then laying claim to the body as the masked ANBU hunter-ninja he portrayed.
Having weathered a long, tense fight with The Demon of the Hidden Mist, Naruto had been apoplectic at the ease with which Haku had stopped the infamous jonin. The yellow-haired leaf ninja had taken it as a personal condemnation of all the hard work and training he'd dedicated himself to.
'He killed Zabuza, who wasn't exactly a pushover, but still got taken out by a guy who's only about my age! Like it was nothing!' the boy had railed, red-faced in frustration. 'What, do we SUCK or something?!'
Haku chuckled at the remembrance.
But maybe something shorter and more to-the-point WOULD be more appropriate, he considered, ran a hand through his black hair, then jotted in a series of quick brushstrokes:
Naruto:
I'm alive, just wanted you to know.
--Haku
There was something satisfying about the brevity of that, but it still didn't seem right. Why bother to write anything at all if it's THAT short? Again, the teenager crumpled up the letter and tossed it away.
But why say anything more? the question drifted through Haku's mind.
This was impossible! How was he supposed to even begin writing something when he had no idea how the person going to read it would react? Would Naruto be MOVED? Would he even REMEMBER who Haku was? Would he just LAUGH and toss the letter AWAY?!
The ninja hung his head in exasperation.
It seemed like everyone who'd encountered Naruto remembered him fondly. When Haku had gone to see Tazuna to ask him about everything that had happened before, during and after the first battle at the bridge the engineer had been more than happy to tell him. Hearing Naruto's words had shaken Haku – especially the blond genin's impassioned declaration he'd lashed Zabuza with after his apprentice's apparent death at the hands of Kakashi. Never could the usually shy and reserved teenager have imagined that another could voice his own thoughts so completely.
"Someone like that," muttered Haku aloud, "so courageous, kind and open-hearted, must have DOZENS of friends…and would hardly be in great need of another."
Like Sasuke Uchiha, the ninja remembered as a poignant example. So dearly in his heart did the raven-haired leaf-ninja care for his friend that he'd thrown himself into the path of Haku's senbon in a stunningly-heroic and touching act of self-sacrifice.
To have friends like that! Haku mused with a pang, as he suddenly and acutely missed never having gone to the Leaf Village's training academy as they had. Friends, the shinobi waxed, so moved by the poetic power of the notion that his eyes welled and his heart melted, willing to risk their very lives for each other; united by a bond that can never be broken.
With hindsight, the young ninja felt a lot better now about not having killed Sasuke. For a long time, Haku had thought of that as just another way he'd let Zabuza down, just another instance of his own soft heart interfering. But having heard how relieved Naruto and especially Sakura had been, Haku wondered if he'd be able to live with himself had he killed the genin.
Even Tazuna had thanked him.
'Ninja,' the engineer had then added after a thoughtful pause. 'To tell the truth, I never saw what the big deal was. You do all that training and you got all this mystique, but really, I never saw you guys as anything more than hired muscle.' Haku had only shrugged, not in the mood to argue, and had almost missed the change in the man's expression. 'But I see now that there's something to it. They learned a lot more at ninja school than just a bunch of tricks. Naruto, Kakashi and the rest were willing to fight for a cause that was not theirs because they thought it was the right thing to do, just like you fought for Zabuza, the man you cared for and who, as it turned out, cared about you too.' The grandfather had then given him an avuncular grin, acknowledging, 'Not all ninja are good ones, of course, but I can see how the training together with the right sensei can really bring out the best in someone.' Haku could only nod obligingly, that's all he'd been able to do, and hadn't been at all sure if he was getting what Tazuna was trying to say.
Haku's mind wandered back to when he'd met Naruto for the second time. The fugitive had been gathering herbs in the forest that morning with his long hair down and wearing a sun dress, a girl by every outward appearance, when he'd spotted the blond boy who was, inexplicably, fast asleep in the grass.
'You'll catch cold if you sleep here,' cautioned Haku when he'd knelt down and nudged him, 'wake up.'
Naruto had enlightened the 'girl' that he'd been up late training, then quickly and without any reservations whatsoever shared with Haku his dreams of getting stronger and of becoming Hokage one day. And he was warm, expressive and gregarious, not guarded and belligerent like every other ninja Haku had ever met. For some reason, Haku remembered being a bit irritated at this and that he'd even challenged the leaf-ninja's apparent good-nature at the conclusion of their conversation by revealing that he was actually a boy – a fact many would have found repugnant, but not Naruto.
Only now did Haku understand – it hadn't been anger, but envy. Why was it ok for Naruto to be nothing like what a shinobi was 'supposed' to be? Why should HE get to be a ninja on his own terms, emotional, wildly idiosyncratic, hyperactive, knuckle-headed and everything else, while Haku always had to conceal his true, gentle nature? It wasn't fair!
But it didn't make any sense to be mad at Naruto for pursuing the life Haku wished for himself. Instead, the ninja felt drawn to him as the kind of friend he'd never had before – a kindred spirit. Even with his life in turmoil these last few months, following the death of his master, memories of the strange leaf-ninja had never gone far from Haku's thoughts and had, in a way, guided him.
Of course if Haku had wanted to be his friend, the ninja considered, trying (by appearances, anyway) to KILL him and then having a big, sloppy, existential crisis all over him probably wasn't the best way.
'I have my own dreams as you have yours,' Haku remembered saying to Naruto and Sasuke during the first battle of the bridge when he, once again, had been compelled to fight. 'Please try not to resent me, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to protect the one I care about most...to fight, kill, or die to fulfill that person's dreams. Doing so is my own dream. To that end, I will become a true shinobi and I shall kill you both.'
Eesh! Did I really say THAT?! Haku hissed, aghast in embarrassment, then anxiously wrung his hands. That…that was a difficult time for me, but still --.
'Often people have it wrong,' Haku's memory again carried him back…back to just after his defeat at Naruto's hands, 'mistakenly believing that showing mercy to an enemy is kindness. They spare the foe whose life is in their hands. But don't you see? It's an empty existence to go on living...alone and unloved...when defeat's already cost you your dream!'
The teenager scratched his cheek woefully then stared again at the blank paper, seeing in the purity of its white depths the cold stares and accusing fingers of the prosecutors in Naruto's mind. They would be more than right to question and find fault.
There's no way, Haku began to realize and shook his head gravely. There's no way he'd ever accept ME as a friend…not after all that.
The basement's dim, dank atmosphere seemed to close around him.
This was a bad idea, Haku concluded, dismayed and deflated, then quickly set his brush aside and put the cap back on top of the inkwell.
Just then, the door to the basement creaked open and Mr. Tezuka paced down the stairs, interrupting the fugitive's forlorn thoughts with a stream of muttered profanity, his shirt partially soaked by a splash of grimy water. "Oh!" he started slightly when he reached the bottom. "I didn't expect you here, Hiroo, or I woulda knocked or something. Weren't you going to go back to work today?"
A morose Haku shook his head, still absorbed by the empty square of paper in front of him and the abandoned prospect it represented. "I was, but I got a new job. I don't start until tomorrow."
The wiry, coal-haired man raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" he inquired interestedly. "What kind of job."
At this moment, the ninja's mind was far from any state where he could manage deceit, and besides…
"I'm going to be one of the Lady Magistrate's constables," he answered matter-of-factly.
"Hmm," began Mr. Tezuka in a thoughtful tone. "What does that pay?"
Haku's eyes rose blankly at the unexpected question as he turned to look at Mari's father. "I don't know," the teenager replied, knowing how stupid it sounded. "I didn't think to ask."
"You di--," the man began, looking back at him in disbelief and breaking out in rumbling laughter. "You didn't think to ask?" he repeated merrily, then offered: "Well, I hope you like working for free!"
Haku's brow furrowed seriously. "I don't think Lady Hirai would take advantage that way."
"Oh no?" Masuo Tezuka chuckled. "I guess you've got a lot more faith in human nature than I do, kiddo."
The man wandered into the thick of Maceo's studio. The smile quickly faded from his face as he was confronted by all the outré sculpture, stacks of paintings, supplies and piles of junk.
Mr. Tezuka shook his head as he started to pick through it all. "Damn that brother of mine," he grumbled. "I'm amazed he hasn't burned my f-cking house down with all this sh-t he's got stockpiled here." The man spent a few more minutes in fruitless search, cursing all the while, before he straightened and let his hands fall to his sides. Turning his head slightly back toward his young tenant, he ventured, "I don't suppose YOU'VE seen a pipe-cutter around here?"
Haku reported in a somber tone: "By your left foot, second shelf up from the bottom behind the paint cans."
The father looked at him with a skeptical scowl then crouched down, showing a hemi-circle of pale, bare back and butt-crack, rummaged around then uttered a victorious cry when he finally found what he sought. Rising then with the tool in hand as if it were a golden chalice, the man grinned at Haku and raised his chin.
Haku recognized this gesture as particular to the Tezuka clan – a short, sharp, upward inclination. It was a nuanced expression that meant, 'you're good for something after all, despite massive evidence to the contrary.' The ninja managed a half-hearted grin in reply and nodded distractedly.
Having fulfilled his quest, the Tezuka patriarch made his way to the stairs and tromped his way up.
"Mr. Tezuka?" Haku began, catching him mid-way.
"Yup?"
"How long have you known?"
The man backed down two steps then leaned against the wall. "Since just after that first night we all had dinner together."
Haku's eyes rose. "That long?" his voice issued quietly. Mari was so sure that her parents were fooled. I wonder, the ninja thought, if anyone on this earth is as clever as they think they are. "Thank you for not turning me over to the ANBU."
Tezuka shrugged. "F-ck the ANBU," he said. "It's not like they've ever done anything for me."
"What gave me away?"
"Little things mostly," said the father. "Of course I came down here to take a look at who my idiot daughter brought home all those weeks ago. Oh! Look at this – a pretty little naked boy with a bloody chest wound. I had to give her some points for originality there." Haku hung his head and rubbed his temple, mortified by the man's description of him. "But yeah, no clothes," Mr. Tezuka continued, "Mari told me she threw them away because they were all ripped up and covered with blood. 'Ok', I thought, ''seems possible if you got robbed, but your shoes too? I mean: your shoes?
"Then at dinner, well, let's face it, you look…different than most kids your age. You're sitting there with that long hair, straight, perfect teeth, and skin my dear bride would kill a dozen people to get, and I'm thinking – this kid's supposed to be living on the streets? It was clear to me that someone had taken pretty good care of you. Of course, I always thought it was weird how fast you healed. And Maceo didn't have a word to say so I KNEW something was going on. Anyway, I sweated the whole story from him, long story short."
Haku nodded. "Still, I would have thought…with me being a dangerous criminal and all…"
"Yeah, well, you definitely got a lot of people saying a lot of things about you, Haku," the man allowed, then sniffed. "I never believed a word."
Haku shot him an incredulous look.
"Oh, I know about all that crap with you and Zabuza. You guys tried to take down the Mizukage and killed a whole bunch of his ninja in the process."
Haku nodded at the man's terse summary.
"Ok, whose idea was that, yours?" Mr. Tezuka asked rhetorically, then shook his head. "Not a chance; that was Momochi's deal. He might have been like a dad to you, Haku, but you know, I don't think much of anyone who'd drag a kid into something like that.
"Anyway, people like to talk a lot, mostly about stuff they know nothing about. Me," the man explained, cocking a thumb into his chest, "I'm a grown man. I'll make up my own mind."
The ninja blew out a breath then risked a wan smile. "And what have you decided then…about me?"
"'Jury's still out," replied Tezuka with a disarming leer. Haku felt a weird shiver for a moment as he thought the man said 'Juri' with an 'i' rather than 'jury' with a 'y'. "But," Mari's dad offered, "I like ya' just fine, so far. And, and don't EVER tell her this, I kind of trust Mari." He cast an upward look, then added confidingly, "not her judgment, of course, she's nutty as hell, but she's got pretty good intuition about people."
The man puffed thoughtfully. "As far as you being a criminal or whatever, I guess that part doesn't bother me so much. All my kids are borderline criminals, same way I was. Maybe that's 'cause things have been tough around here or maybe it's 'cause it's in their blood, I don't know. I love 'em all more than anything but that hasn't made me blind."
Haku smiled reassuringly. "Having spent much of my life around criminals, I can say with certainty that you and your family are nothing like them."
"Thanks," said Mr. Tezuka as he began to climb the rest of stairway. Before he reached the top he paused briefly and gestured with his pipe-cutter. "I hope the new job goes good. I'm actually kind of glad we'll know someone on the inside."
Feeling better now, Haku returned to his letter. Just say what you have to say, he advised himself though he still didn't know how to start. Making motions as if he did, he uncapped the inkwell and dipped the fine-pointed brush, thinking that once he'd done that then the words would come.
The glistening, black tip hovered over the field of intimidating white, but the ninja still sat frozen.
Drip.
Haku winced. Now there was a single black dot. That's all it would ever be unless he continued. Rolling his eyes and recommitting himself again to this endeavor, however badly or uselessly it turned out, the ninja brushed the characters:
Dear Naruto:
I am alive, my friend, though I know it must be difficult to believe…
The former fugitive thought that a promising enough way to begin.
Hi, everyone. I hope you liked that. As many of you noticed, the story is wrapping up. If this was a good ole' non-digital format, hard-copy, ink-on-paper PRINT book, you'd see that there are about 20 pages left…unless, of course, I can come up with another excuse for another long and harrowing fight sequence, hehehe! And you NEVER KNOW (grins).
I'd like to state that what Haku remembered he'd said in flashback, I took directly from Naruto the anime/manga. I thought the change in tone and style was enough to set it apart without my having to footnote or anything like that. Plus, you probably remembered those lines anyway.
Please review! I never know how I'm doing without feedback. And I hope you come back next time for the *Final* chapter of…The Broken Tool.
Thanks,
--Jono'