The rain had started. It was not much more than a drizzle, but the small enclosure of ninja residences glistened with the encroaching wet. Temari glanced upwards at the little area of visible sky between the towering walls. Droplets of water hit her face, making her squint as she peered into the clouds. They were a thick, tangled mess of dark grey and a long way up.
Ahead of her, she could hear her brother and their guide. She shook her head, annoyed at the tiny cold splashes against her bare arms and face, and hurried to catch up with them.
"Just through here," the girl indicated, turning so she could point as she strode on, "They've got the last building before you go back out into Seishingakure itself."
"Thanks," Kankurou nodded. They were perhaps a few houses away from Death By Genin, but it certainly didn't feel like it. The concrete housing had swallowed them up almost completely.
Space was limited in the narrow section between the outer walls of Seishingakure and the inner walls of the daimyo's castle. That tightly squeezed area had only made more cramped by the extra set of walls in the barracks enclosure, but even so the Suna shinobi got the feeling that this had been built to house many more ninja than it now did. Many of the buildings looked dusty and dilapidated as if no one had lived there for decades. Even Death by Genin appeared to have been built for many more than it could possibly need to hold now. There wasn't space enough for anything so grand as streets or housing blocks, but whole areas had fallen into serious disrepair as if no one had been living there for so long that there had been no point maintaining them.
The pebbles moved under his feet and Kankurou noticed the weeds that had crept in over time, establishing themselves when no one had the impetuous to remove them. His guide caught his elbow and he turned to look at her. She was the princess-like chuunin they had met in the genin barracks. The two remaining Seishin officers had been arguing over custody of the genin when he left them with Naruto, who had decided to head over to the medical centre to try and find Sakura. He and Temari had chosen to tag along with the remaining chuunin, who had resolved to try her luck with the jounin again instead and see if she could get a copy of the duty roster to start organizing her fellows. Apparently she hoped they might have sorted themselves out by now. Kankurou and Temari were tentatively trusting in the same. They needed to find their sibling and soon.
"That's it – up ahead," the girl jerked her head, motioning to a building not a few metres away, "The jounin common room." She straightened her flack jacket, her face falling as she took in the view. Temari sighed loudly as she came up behind them.
This building was anything but abandoned and neglected. A small concrete tower-like structure next to its own gateway, it had light streaming from every small square window. People were milling out of every entrance, arguing in raised voices. Even from where they were standing they could hear the shouting.
"We'd better go in," the young chuunin muttered, moving one of her plaits away from her face. Kankurou nodded wordlessly, taking the lead. He barely passed the threshold before he was practically bowled over by a large middle-aged man. His assailant pushed passed him, reaching for the chuunin beside the Suna shinobi, dragging her forward to his eye-level by her flak jacket.
"You!" he roared, bushy whitish eyebrows narrowing as pulled her in the house, "You! Where is my weapon? I've been waiting half-an-hour now. Have I not told you chuunin types before: go up to the Tamazaki main house and fetch my weapon! That's the famous sun sword of Tamazaki Ishida – go, you little ingrate! In my day the youngsters used to listen when you gave them orders…" He paused suddenly, glancing down at his wrist. Another hand had grasped it, firmly applying so much pressure to the joint that he lost his hold on the girl. He turned his head and found himself staring straight into the narrowed eyes of the Suna ninja. The girl stood back, wide-eyed and gasping as she pulled her jacket back into place. Temari placed a hand on her shoulder and she smiled weakly, as if trying to reassure the Suna ninja and not herself.
"If you were a half-decent shinobi your weapon wouldn't be out your reach in the first place," Kakurou growled, thrusting the offending hand back towards its owner.
"I beg your pardon?" The man glared back. He was a portly, red-faced creature with a prominent double chin and bushy white hair that no longer quite covered his whole scalp. His boots were of very shiny expensive-looking leather and the rest of him was outfitted in dark brown slack trousers and a deep burgundy top that might even have been satin. Somehow he had squeezed himself into a flak jacket that clearly no longer fitted, but even with that and an old ninja utility belt (extended with rope in a makeshift fashion) he clearly looked as if his days as an active shinobi were long behind him.
Kankurou's chuunin guide moved in front of him, glaring at the man as she spread her arms wide. "With respect, sir," she intoned, carefully positioning herself so her former assailant was forced to retreat, "This gentleman here is a Suna jounin present in Seishingakure as a guest of the daimyo..."
The man bellowed with mocking laughter. "That little half-grown scrap?" he sneered, shaking his head as his eyes shone with derision. Colour rising in his face, he turned his head failing his arms gleefully as he tried to drum up an audience. "They must be pretty desperate over in Suna, eh? Eh?" he bellowed, leering down at three of them, "You three kids think you can come in here and play shinobi. Really? Someone should show you some proper disipline."
"Why you!" Kankurou's temper snapped. His hand shot back, snatching at one of his scrolls. The only thing that stopped him from drawing it was Temari, who practically hung from his elbow in an attempt to keep him from performing an action they would both regret.
"Kankurou," she whispered, clutching tightly at her brother as he tried to shake himself free, "Please. Just let it go. He's not worth it."
"That's right, little boy," the man sniggered, waggling his eyebrows as he pointed his thick fingers and jeered, "You listen to your pretty girlfriend – before you get yourself hurt." The chuunin gasped and Kankurou growled, pushing Temari aside as he finally yanked a scroll from its holster.
Before he could use it though, another hand came down heavily on the man's shoulder, spinning him around, as he was brought face to face with a second Seishin jounin. This one looked much leaner and fitter and was fully dressed in proper shinobi black. His flack jacket was a perfect fit and the kunai in their holsters at his waist appeared to be razor sharp. "Tamazaki-san, stand down for heaven's bleeding sake!" the newcomer snapped in a gruff raspy voice, glaring at the man he attempted to pull him away, "Have you really got nothing better to do than shoot your mouth off at foreign shinobi? The boy has a point. Go fetch your own damn weapon before you turn up here barking orders at my junior officers. They've got jobs to do."
The first man laughed, puffing himself up with visible anger. "I remember you, Shichirobei," he scoffed, snarling slightly as he folded his arms over his belly and drew himself up to his full height, "Where were you during the war, eh? Some half-baked little good-for-nothing managing supplies over in the back lines, that's where. I'm surprised you even know the front end of a kunai." He glowered down at him, furling his lower lip ever so slightly.
'Shichirobei' visibly sighed and let go of his shoulder. "I'm honoured to be in your recollections, Tamazaki-san," he replied, with a clearly affected calmness, as he folded his own arms, more loosely than his compatriot, "Seeing as you've not set foot in Seishingakure in the last half a decade. How are the sweet potato crops this time of year? I hear your farm's doing very well." There was a slight edge to his voice that suggested he did not want to be pushed any further. Tamazaki huffed slightly, but as his fellow jounin continued to glare he retreated away into the depths of the room.
The jounin, referred to as Shichiobei, shook his head and waved them inside with a sigh. There was a small space available near the door and Temari huddled into it, grateful to be out of the rain. Her brother stationed himself next to her, still glaring as he reluctantly re-holstered his scroll.
Whatever else you could say about Seishingakure's jounin common area, it had not been intended as a general strategy room. They could catch glimpses of a few ragged cotton sofas dotted around the walls and a heavily worn-out carpet over the floor. Rotas and general notices hung where pictures might have gone and an entire side of the room had been given over to wooden pigeonholes for non-urgent messages and summons. A couple of lonely football tables (1) hogged the space under the bare light bulb and a coffee machine and kettle squatted on a shelf in a corner. There was no way anyone had intended to allow fifty odd human beings to take over this tiny, humble space and start yelling and screaming at each other, knocking over furniture and bumping into their fellows, as each one attempted to be heard over the continuous cacophony.
Before the man could speak, their chunnin guide turned to the jounin who had ended the argument, tapping him on the elbow. He bowed low enough to hear what she was saying, before rolling his eyes and sending her off in vague direction of some charts on the wall. The jounin was a well-built man in his thirties, but his thick curly beard and neatly trimmed hair had already turned grey. His jaw was square and his bone structure was heavily pronounced, so that his cheekbones and eyebrows sat forward on his face without the need for further emphasis. There was a vertical scar on one side of his chin, were he had obviously once sustained an injury at some long distant point in the past. His hands and skin were heavily tanned from active duty, but his thick knuckles and finger joints were noticeably darker, making them look slightly dirty.
"Sorry about that," the jounin muttered and rocked backwards on the heels of his feet, eyeing the two Suna envoys carefully as he did so. He kept close enough so they could actually hear him against the roar of background noise. "First we get these idiots turning up spouting all kinds of hell and then our young shinobi turn out to be so used to peace: that the whole world happily goes bananas around them and they're still worried about job rosters and who's on dinner duty." He sighed, straightening up and rubbing his scalp with a free hand. "Still they're good enough. At least they're thinking, you know? Trying to sort things out. Not like the rest of these morons. Couldn't find their rear end with a compass and a map and I've been stuck managing them all bleeding day." Kankurou smiled sympathetically and the jounin replied with an appreciative nod. His mouth worked in agitation and he kept his hands behind him as he spoke, one hand clasped loosely around its opposing elbow. "Honestly," he confided, sighing and rolling his eyes, "You'd think they'd never been to war. They just turn up here, flash a few family names and old stories and imagine they can tell the rest of us what to do – and those are just the jounin. I've got chuunin and genin no one's seen in years – in here of all places – and half of them won't even listen to anyone but senior members of their own households. As if we work like that… Anyway – what can I help you with? Kankurou-san, was it? And you'd be...?"
"Temari," she cut in, as her sibling smirked beside her, "We're looking for our brother, the Kazekage. He never returned from the meeting last night. We're trying to establish what happened." Temari glared as she finished, leaning back against the wall. She raised a foot, pressing it backwards at mid-shin level as if for an easy get-away. Her arms were folded and her face stern.
In front of them, the jounin's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh… bleeding…! You're serious?" He ran both hands over his hair, groaning slightly as he did so.
"Obviously." Kankurou replied, growing serious in an instant. His expression hardened under his lines of purple warpaint and he stood, near his sister, regarding the man coolly through narrowed eyes.
"Well, which rumour would you like?" the jounin muttered, shaking his head as he lowered is arms back to his sides. He scowled with dissatisfaction, as he thoughtfully examined the ceiling over their heads, "I've got nothing else. I heard everything from how the meeting was overrun by suspicious foreign enemies, to an invasion from Granite, to the five Kage launching a coup d'état and slaughtering the daimyo and the hime…"
Temari raised an eyebrow, "That's highly unlikely."
The jounin nodded, clicking his teeth. "You're telling me," he murmured, folding his arms in front of himself this time, "I can't see anyone slaughtering anyone with the hime on watch. Now there's a girl with a decent fire in her belly. I doubt even the five Kage combined could take her down." He straightened slightly, the line of his mouth hardening further as his frown deepened. "Still something must have happened to her. She'd never allow this kind of a mess. There'll be hell to pay when she's back, I can tell you."
"You don't think she's dead then?" Kankurou inquired, straightening slightly. He tilted his head, chewing on his lip as he narrowed his eyes again in thought.
"Hah," the jounin practically laughed, "No, not her. You've never seen her fight, have you? Not up close. I don't think that you actually can kill a demon." He rubbed a hand over his head, a tense expression overtaking him.
"So, to cut a long story short," Temari interrupted, frowning, "You don't know anything either?" She kicked off from the wall, straightening, as if getting ready to leave.
The man shook his head. "Not a whisper. I'm sorry," he breathed. A long sigh followed that statement and scratched his nose awkwardly and glanced upwards at the ceiling, as he seemed to work up the resolve to make another suggestion. "I hate to say it, I really do," he began, "But – at this point – I'd say your best bet would be the daimyo himself. If the hime really is out of action, then authority of Seishingakure automatically reverts back to him. I'll take you to him."
He gestured as if for them to follow, but didn't realy wait for a response. As Temari and Kankurou straightened, he turned around, eyeing the crowd behind him. "Right then, you lot," he declared, waving an arm in dismissal, "I'm off. Try not to tear the place down while I'm gone." He pushed his way towards the door, attempting to usher the Suna shinobi before him.
They never got there. The outrage was immediate and very vocal. A thin-lipped woman snatched his collar and others turned attempting to bar his way. "Now see here, Shichirobei-san!" she cried, bringing her face close to his, "You can't just leave! What about my…?"
"Watch me, you old tart," the jounin grunted, pushing her away and turning towards the door, "Some of us have got some real work to be getting on with." He attempted to push Kankurou and Temari forward, so they could leave.
The statement had simply made things worse. Indignation poured at them in bucket loads and bodies pressed in on them, limbs flailing, as a room full of people all screamed for attention at the same time. The woman from before was practically bawling in indignation. As he was pressed backwards against the wall, Kankurou got the distinct impression that the jounin was enjoying himself.
Then, out of the blue, the door burst open. The bang reverberated around the room and the jounin reeled backwards in alarm, taking the rest of the crowd with him, as a figure barged in and a woman's voice screamed, "Shut up, the lot of you! I'm bringing orders from the daimyo."
"And who are you when you're at home?" snapped a disgruntled character near the front.
Briefly Temari caught a glimpse of long blonde hair. "Galileo Yurika. Jounin."
(1) US term: foosball table
