Ch8 of Ino-cence...
Kiba starts prowling, Moegi content to accompany him passively. She says she'll probably diverge from him to focus on the arsonist tracking if it doesn't look like the target is in Rice.
He stares out into the horizon, wishing his nose would pick up on her. Ino has a smell that curls into his bones. She wants to smell light and delicate and covers herself in layers of these floral tones, but her real scent, the part of her that is unique, sits heavy in his brain. She smells like a hunter, like the impact of a punch. It was why he first started noticing her.
But he has to draw closer and closer to the coordinates given on the standard map before he starts to smell civilisation, and the cacophony of turds and fresh fruit and leather and sweat that comes with it.
There's a moment where he's walking along the worn paths, fingers twitching to the kunai in his back holster, and Akamaru flicks his ears up at his partner.
Are you ok, boss?
Kiba murmurs that he's fine, but really he's not. Ino is part of the Konoha Twelve pack to him, and while he's been on the move his brain has been starting to worry about her.
They'll be there in the Rice village ostensibly to hunt down the arsonist. It's just good practice given they have no idea what Ino is up to there. (And part of Kiba hopes it isn't even Ino.)
Moegi curls a lip slightly, surveying the scene.
Chickens pecking at the ground on her left, in a makeshift coop. Mud along the central avenue of merchants, hawking wares. A pig squealing somewhere in the back, tied around a wood post next to a large pile of watermelons, which are attracting midges. People moving with purpose, old ladies with hair tied at the nape of their neck, ferociously haggling in their daily practiced game. Two toddlers having a bogey-eating competition.
Civilians, she thinks long-sufferingly.
There are only a few ninja here, coming and going. Some are rogue, some are local wannabes, but without skill-sharing from the Great Five they'll never really be a threat to Naruto's lasting peace. She thinks fondly on their Hokage, remembering when Konohamaru, her, and Udon were the most devoted of his fans.
Kiba next to her lets out a sigh, and starts to make for the nearest merchant. He has his official Missing Person scroll unrolled and quickly flashes it, searching for any recognition in the faces of the people he asks.
"We have a tip off this man was last seen at Mama Rakushi's. Where would I go to speak to her?" he asks an old woman, and she turns her head away, nose scrunched in disapproval.
The Inuzuka smothers a growl and tries again four minutes later, to much the same reaction. But as he huffs away, a hoarse laugh floats into Moegi's ears. She pivots sharply and sees a young woman watching them, pail of grains tucked in the crook of her arm and tired amused eyes.
She has very dark skin, but Moegi can't sense chakra from her. Not a Kumo nin then.
"What's so funny?" Moegi challenges.
The woman quirks a wry smile. "You asking all the old biddies who Mama Rakushi is."
"And?"
She looks down at her grains, and back up again. "I didn't catch the first time, why you looking for this guy?"
"Burned down three houses in Grass. Killed his wife and another man." Kiba comes to join ranks in a silent show of solidarity. Akamaru stays nosing around in the dirt, focused on finding Ino.
The dark skinned woman appears to suck on her cheek for a moment, clearly deciding.
"I don't normally say nothing to nobody, especially ninjas. You cause us a headache. But if you're really here to catch a fire-starter... they a bigger headache than ninjas." Kiba notes how she says fire-starter with an emphatic scowl. Maybe she does have some Kumo blood in her. He still hates how they smell. God they crackle. But he keeps listening.
"Listen, you're picking the wrong paddyfield. Mama Rakushi isn't a person. It's a place, and it ain't for daylight, if you know what I mean. Good women don't hold with it."
"Thank you," Moegi replies cautiously. "I think I understand. I wouldn't want to go but we do have a duty to carry out, so do you know who could take us there to ask around?"
"It'll cost you," the woman says, nudging her pail of provisions against her hip. Kiba admires the curves (nice ass) for a second and then he clicks her meaning.
"Lady," he drawls, "you know how much people pay me to not get eaten by my dog? That shit's priceless."
"I'm sure it's a huge favour you're doing me by keeping the dog away, Mr. Ninja, but I'm already running debts and they want repaying in cash," she shrugs, tired eyes not even remotely afraid of him. She's too low in the struggles for life to be afraid of him, Kiba realises. And that hurts, because wasn't Naruto's dream that peace could come to the Great Five so all the little people didn't have to struggle so hard? Every war was hardest on those caught in the crossfire. Stop wars, stop crossfires, make everyone and everything better.
She's not pack, not Konoha Twelve, not even part of Konoha or the Allied Shinobi Forces, but Kiba feels an unusual wave of compassion. Like she's in a distant faint biggest pack in the world.
So Kiba nods. "How much you racked up?"
"You gonna buy 'em out or something?" she snorts, "I borrow proper where I can. None of that crime stuff, ninja shouldn't touch it."
This disgruntles the Inuzuka. He had assumed it would be possible to help her by getting whatever smucky syndicate boss caught in a messy accident. The Inuzuka have wealth, but it's not liquid. It's borne of astute negotiations (read: intimidations) when his Grandmother was the clan head, and largely resides in territory, several profitable businesses including veterinary academies, and livestock herds outside Konoha. He probably can't buy her out.
So he sighs and shares a look with Moegi and then tosses the woman a token scrap of his mission budget. She nods, unimpressed.
"Alright, meet by the Egg lady at "- she checks her watch- "seven. Janitors don't start at the place til half past, reckon the madam will be there with them."
Moegi starts to thank her and then frowns. Permanent ninja suspicion. "How do you know so much?"
"I work at, don't I?" the dark skinned lady cackles, seeming highly amused at how the Konoha shinobi's faces fall. They regain their professionalism quickly enough as she walks away, and start to ponder how one goes about finding accommodation remotely worth squatting in around here.
Moegi strips off her ninja sandals, gazing at the dust falling from the rafters.
"Nice place, huh."
"Yep." Kiba grins at her wryly, prodding the dubiously lumpy bedding. But she perks up- Moegi is a natural optimist, and she likes to say things are always better than they were before.
"We got a lead," she smiles, looking relieved. Helping a comrade out, for whatever reason the Hokage's Office has requested, fills them with a sense of urgency and pride. Akamaru thumps his tail in agreement, the white ninken squeezed under a side table. Konoha looks after its pack.
The Egg Lady is a wizened old bat with only three teeth. She is the old lady your head supplies when you hear the saying "teach grandmothers to suck eggs".
She sits with her supply, apparently just as contented to consume it as to sell it, and gives Kiba an appraising glance with hard boiled yolk on her chin. The sun is drifting into setting. Shadows stretch long behind them as the two Konoha nin scout around first (standard non-pre-approved rendez-vous protocol) and return to wait for their dark-skinned lead.
She does show up, hair piled high on her head and a bag on her shoulder which has the vague outline of shoes inside.
"Ya ready? Yeah? Ok, follow me."
They turn along paths behind houses and between paddyfields, having to cross over a canal which reeks of waste. The establishment itself is unlit from the outside, on stilts (Kiba presumes this is to prevent flooding). He takes a hesitant sniff with a chakra-enhanced nose, and fakes a yawn to try and sift through things.
Alcohol, smoke, a sort of shisha pipe, sweat, bleach, some sort of strong acryllic glue, a heady perfume, personal scents including the one of their guide, and- Ino.
She isn't here now, but she has been. Her scent is woven into other people's. Kiba is under no illusions what this place does because pheromones for arousal have lingered enough for him to smell (in a passing encounter they usually fade within four hours, he finds.)
He tosses a glance to Akamaru, who is busy looking like an innocent companion instead of a fully fledged ninja in his own right. They go up the steps and in past the bouncer's antechamber, entering a dark but spacious set-up. There are tables and chairs everywhere, a bar in the corner with the bottles locked away in cabinets and two stages (one has spare equipment on it and a pole, but doesn't seem to be used.) Two men are cleaning, one giving instruction to the other and picking up a bar stool to move it.
"Mama?" their guide calls. The cleaners jerk their thumbs, gesturing to the back of the main stage.
They go find an unassuming, slightly plump woman, who has a wide smile and her hair half up with many flyaways.
"Saffron love you're early," she says, glancing over at Moegi. "What can I do for you and our... esteemed guests?"
Their dark skinned guide, apparently Saffron, defers to Kiba. "These guys want to talk to ya 'bout some firestarter."
"Ma'am, we've been given intelligence that a man matching this description was last seen in your establishment. Do you recognise this profile?" Kiba holds up their Missing Person scroll.
The madam of the house shakes her head, pursing her lips slowly. "We see a lotta business here, young man, and I don't handle most of it personally."
"Then would we be able to speak to the staff who do customer service?"
This prompts a little snort from Saffron. Stupid ninja and their stupid euphemisms. Say it like it is, her mother always said, except for when you shouldn't.
"...You want to talk to my girls?" Her visage is definitely disapproving, closed off, protective now. The madam looks to Saffron, but she's already put her neck out for these folks enough by bringing them before her boss, so she won't say more in their favour.
Moegi steps in placatingly. "We don't wish to disrupt your normal business operations so ...Saffron... was kind enough to escort us here at a time more convenient to your establishment. My partner and his dog are happy to handle interviewing any male staff you have, if that's of concern to you. Our interest is primarily in finding our target."
"Hmph," the madam scans her up and down but Moegi has never told a better set of half-truths than this one. At last she folds her arms, and grumpily acquiesces. "Well, you can go into the back dressing rooms. I don't want any of your type scaring off anyone. And if a girl says she don't want talking to, you damn well leave her alone! And which village are you from, Konoha? I'll be sending a large bill their way if you damage anything!"
"Yes Ma'am." Moegi inclines her head sharply.
The two ninjas awkwardly loiter in the dressing rooms. There is a cracked mirror, a few harsh lights and wooden slat benches, with little cubby holes underneath for personal items. It smells more like smoke, and less like alcohol. Saffron slips in after a while, completely obvious in her role as a babysitter, and leisurely unpacks her bag- The heels make Kiba whistle incredulously.
"Woah! Lady, you must be lethal on those things."
She tosses Kiba a look, and keeps unpacking.
Other girls start to arrive. Each one glances at Moegi, Kiba and Akamaru and decides they'll keep their mouth shut and eyes down.
Kiba thinks this is singularly unhelpful. Moegi understands. They still attempt to gently slide into conversation with each girl, just in case.
Ino sidles up to Mama Rakushi's wearily, careful to avoid stepping in mud.
She's sore and achey and her glittering personality takes more out of her each day, but she knows she has to be careful with covers. Hatake's guidance lingers in her ears; she has to be consistent, not complacent.
She expects Tsubaki Moramito will come through the club again tonight. She has a storage scroll filled with ice for when they meet afterwards. She's been warring with her own sense of pride over disengaging as it doesn't appear to be Progress Central at the moment, and thinks perhaps she'll change tactics, offer a different service this evening. Hopefully he'll bite.
Cinnamon is already limbering up on stage when she gets inside. She immediately notices everyone is nervous, a quiet tension in the bartender and an extra screeching of the stools from one of the cleaners that doesn't need to be there.
"What's going on?" she mouths to Cinnamon. She shrugs before jerking a thumb in the direction of the dressing rooms, with a little wide eye action.
So Ino walks into the dressing rooms, and sees one of her colleagues with hands buried in a mound of white fur, cooing to it. It takes Ino a second to reconstitute the scene; Akamaru rolled on his back, getting belly rubs. Moegi in one corner, arms folded and ostensibly praying for sanity to some ancestor of hers. And Kiba, wild and sullen, with his nose twitching and elbows on knees, sat hunched on a bench.
"I smell her-" He turns his head to address Moegi, who just starts to look up at the door, and Ino is frozen because why are they here? Is this a mission parameter change? Surely they would have communicated this in advance?
"Oh sorry- I'm Shimmer, I didn't mean to interrupt" she steps forward, dropping her eyes in a way that communicates disinterest, and finds a spot to get changed. Other girls have left their bags around the cracked mirror, and there are already various make-up sponges and blenders strewn across the makeshift dressing table in front of it.
Her chakra is slow and tired like her tonight, and Moegi and she have never really seen eye-to-eye, so it takes her a lot of willpower to reach out mentally. It feels like she pilots a glass submarine, only instead of sailing through the deep, the ocean is filled with molasses.
Cover do not engage rendezvous later she sends, and repeats it twice until Moegi faintly nods at her in the mirror.
It's a slow start, the music louder than warranted for such a quiet evening in the establishment. The bartender actually gets to wipe up the spilled drinks between orders. The girls can take their time on their heels. Kiba and Moegi hang around until the doors open to the public and then spend a few minutes bidding farewell to Mama Rakushi. They remind her that if she hears any rumours or anyone bragging about arson, she can always reach out to them to follow it up. Mama humphs unimpressed and ushers them out into the night.
Ino is distracted as a result, and nearly spills a whole pitcher of water on one of her colleagues in her inattention, while her mind sluggishly tries to stay alert to shinobi movements. She begs an espresso martini off the bartender to key her up and awake. While she shoots it down, wiping her mouth hastily, four men slide into a booth at her back. One produces a cigar for his friends and their voices rumble something about drinks. Just as she pivots to address them, a large male hand lands on her sequined shoulder.
"Danna-san?" she murmurs. Tsubaki Moramito jerks his head at her, his eyes cool.
"Make time for me this evening."
"Of course," she demurs. " I finish at 2am today."
"Earlier than that." He raises an eyebrow at her. "You don't want to test my patience."
She pretends to gulp, a large swallow of nerves. She's learned by now he usually won't try anything within the walls of Mama Rakushi's (which usually suits her.) But he's implying she will need to satisfy him elsewhere, and this means Ino risks the wrath of the club's madam, which potentially leaves her without a reason to stay in town if she gets fired. Shimmer has been deliberately mediocre, avoiding competition with any top-earners like Saffron or Cinnamon. Leaving mid-shift would be a black mark she's unsure she can recover from.
"If I leave early, it will double our usual rate. Consider it a call-out charge," she sings, letting her voice tremble a little. Small flashes of greed always put Moramito at ease, a motive revealed for a second. His hand travels lower than her shoulder, slides down the sharp spangles along her back (Ino deliberately relaxes, not wanting her musculature to show, toned and defined the way it does when she's tense).
"Get us a round, I'll call for you then," he grunts and joins the booth of men.
She exhales deeply, fingertips coming up to massage her temples. Ino really needs to get her shit together; coming into an encounter with a target as slow as she is right now could mean the whole house of cards toppling over. Breathe, Ino. What would a real whore down on their luck and involved with a dangerous trick do?
She excuses herself out into the back room and carefully daubs water under her eyes, making her makeup run. Then she smears one forearm with the mess and proceeds to try to take the makeup off, then puts new make-up back on. At this point Ino wishes she'd done a better job of making friends among the other dancers. She could really use a witness to tell her situation; just walking off her shift would burn bridges in an unforgiveable way. She chooses Candy, who's been running tables very successfully for the last four nights, has a comfortable margin of trust with the Mama and would probably take any drama just for the chance to rest her feet a little more. They've only spoken a handful of times before tonight, but she'll do.
Ino walks past her and asks "have you got a minute? Just a minute?" in an audible but small, plaintive voice.
Candy looks up into wide blue eyes, spilling over with tears and old shadows of run mascara. She sees someone barely holding it together.
"Mama won't mind, it's slow today," Ino presses, hands trembling, full of empty beer glasses.
Candy nods slowly. She can't be older than 26 by Ino's estimations, but she's just teetering on the edge of complete apathy to others in trouble. If there's no presence of kindness in her life, it will happen, eventually. Ino sees it all the time in rogue-nin.
They meet in the backroom. Ino has antisocially left her makeup sprawled all over the dressing table; Candy notices.
"What's happened?" she asks warily.
"What- what would you do if- this guy from outside work came in? He won't cause trouble in here but he's uh- wanting me to leave the club, and I got to go."
"Are you going to be safe?"
"I don't- I don't know. But I got to go." She ducks her head, shoulders shaking, staring at the floor sightlessly. "What would you do?"
"We can get the bouncer. C'mon," Candy makes a move to go, so Ino clutches at her skimpy outfit before she can move, letting out a terrified yelp;
"He'll just wait until I get off shift- oh gods it'll be worse... I- I can't!"
Candy presses her lips into a thin line, and removes Ino's hysterical hands. "Ok. I guess, I can let Mama know, if you got to go. Like you said, it's a slow night." Her gaze flickers to her bag. "Do you carry?"
Ino's first internal action is to snort. Does she fucking carry? she is the fucking weapon. But on second thoughts, she's actually touched by the offer. Civilians trying to look out for each other when they don't need to.
"Got a knife somewhere," she mumbles, not quite meeting Candy's eyes.
"Good." Candy pats her on the back awkwardly. "I gotta get back to work. Stay safe, girl."
Ino waits until she can't hear her footsteps anymore before pulling herself out of her despairing posture.
Safe. An odd word for a shinobi. She doesn't use it anymore, and she's not sure most of the Konoha Twelve do either. Civilians worry about safe. Shinobi are technically never 'safe'. They live in dangerous situations. The equivalent of 'safe' for a shinobi is 'acceptable levels of risk given my skill profile.'
Ino adjusts her outfit and stretches out her back and forearms. She takes five minutes to collect herself, and then deems it time to head back into the hunt.
In what seems like no time at all but is probably closer to an hour, Moramito catches her eye.
"You there!" He calls. "We'll need our bill." She nods graciously and returns with the tab, presenting it to the booth. Two of the men appear to be absolutely hammered; she thinks the bouncers will enjoy having to remove them.
"Our usual place, danna-san?" Ino enquires mildly. Her target grunts and gestures for her to wait outside for him.
***** WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT CONTENT AHEAD, SKIP TO NEXT SET OF ASTERISKS *****
There's a light wind out and it makes Ino in her little jacket shake. Moramito strides beside her, purposive and silent. Nobody watches them. He leads her across the muddy parochiality, wooden boards put down in place of roads, crossing fields, until the slanting building that serves as their fucked-up motel is in front of them. He stops and casts a dismissive glance over her.
"On your knees."
The way he speaks to her is short, minimal- like he would rather not remember he is engaging with a human at all. Ino wrinkles her nose and sinks down on the cold ground.
He fumbles with his cloth belt for a little while, and she expects him just to take it off and then use her throat, like he has done before, but instead as he removes it he whips it around her upper arms and torso and ties it as tight as he can. She winces when it pinches her skin, and he grasps the underside of her chin, the way you would hold up the muzzle of a horse or a dog, holding her there with a tiny shake. She understands- she's meant to bear this stoically. Moramito doesn't particularly get off on Shimmer's suffering because that would involve engaging with her, highlighting a connection, treating her as a human to be broken. He'd much rather she was always subhuman to begin with, existing as a vacuum for his amusement.
Or that's Ino's theory anyway. She figures that, because in her experience, other targets who do crap like this always mumble to themselves or to the victim, seem to enjoy communicating with the other person, want to reassure them or want their terror. Moramito stays absolutely silent when he tumbles her over into the ground headfirst and starts trying to rip the lower half of her spangly glittery outfit from the club.
Well, fuck, Ino thinks, you could have just laid this out for me buddy. Mud everywhere is going to be one annoying clean up. His breathing doesn't even deepen in interest until she's half bared, already smeared filthy, and one meaty hand comes up to bear down on the back of her neck as he lines himself up.
Ino slides herself into her training, breathes deep and even even as he's starting to really press her jawbone into the ground in a way that hurts, allows herself to become slick and pliable for him and hears a satisfied moan in response before an enthusiastic snap of his hips. He's more intent, more focused than she's ever seen him in their other encounters, and she brushes his mind with her chakra;
oh wow. She was not prepared for this.
Moramito's whole mind is vibrating in absolute euphoria at the fact that he's raping her. Ino wouldn't use that word- her own inate superiority reiterates that she doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do, and he's just a lowly target. But Moramito has the word and concept echoing around and around said in a low whisper, the disapproving tone of an aunt, a laughing face of a rival. He's in this wondrous sort of spiritual bliss from the fact that the whore in front of him is eating it up. It's immense, intense, relishing in the absolute sickness of the act and Ino grits her teeth and prepares to dig a little deeper into his head to go back over his business dealings when-
PANIC FLASHING BEAR? WOLF PAIN STABBING
Ino disengages from Moramito's mind as the sound of snarling and a great weight hits Moramito's back, dragging him off her painfully, winking gleams of claws in the darkness and a flare of chakra. There's a wet squelch and a dripping, likely blood.
************************ WARNING OVER ***************************************************
Kiba hasn't even looked up yet from his crouch over Moramito, crumpled and lolling. There's a satisfaction in his voice. "You can thank me later- Moegi and Aka are with me about half a mile away, can you walk?"
Ino rises up like a muddy snake, wrapping her jacket around herself. One of her legs is shaky and the back of her neck is throbbing. She's used to random mission SNAFUs and fresh intel/comrade appearances...but her target has just been eliminated, for no apparent reason.
"What the fuck, Kiba!"
He tilts his face over to her blankly then, good humour still in place, "what do you mean, what the fuck?"
"I mean. What. The. Fuck."
"What, I saved you with my super awesome Four Legs Technique?"
"Yeah, and you'd better have an explanation."
He snorts cockily, "think I had one," gestures sharply to the dead man on the ground and gets to his feet. "Let's get back to Moegi." It's his confident, completely self-benevolent tone that really grinds alight Ino's very very last nerve. She flares out her chakra and blocks his way, palms shoving into his chest.
"You asshole! I was handling it." she cries. His smile drops, and he growls at her.
"God I did not expect you to be such a bitch about being rescued."
"I didn't need to be rescued!"
"Sure fucking looked like it, I was helping you out! What was I meant to do, let the piece of shit kill you?" his Inuzuka temper shoots up, and she's right there with him, finger stabbing into his chest, blue eyes blazing.
"That piece of shit was my target, dogbreath! I was handling it!"
"But he was- was on you- ," and even Kiba can't quite force himself to verbalise what it looks like to him, but Ino knows, knows it all the same even if he hadn't started the sentence, and it boils out of her, her voice an iron blade quenched in a desperation of never being heard.
"You're right, he was on me! Newsflash: that's my job. You don't have to like what I do, but that piece of shit was my target, and now he's dead, because of you; you go be a shinobi. At least give me the respect to trust my professional judgement, instead of coming in, jutsu on, all big hero to save the day- and fucking up my work, my mission report and my career." They glare at each other, until she's satisfied her point is made and she doesn't want to kill her teammate any more.
Kiba whines then a little, shaking his head side to side minutely, "he was hurting you Ino,"
"So? You never get injured in a battle?" She stares him out. "You just saw a difficult customer, an A-ranked target, if you will. I get them a lot because I'm top class. If you can't accept that, this conversation is over and outside of missions you are not welcome in my house."
A small part of Ino knows she's taken an exceptionally hard line with Kiba, moreso than she'd expect of anyone save her teammates and T&I. But given that they made that- deal, whatever it was (it seems so far away now that she's been in Rice) it's somehow strangely important to her that he gets her. Not so much that he respects her art, but that he stops seeing her as something needing to be fixed, needing to be saved. She has worked hard to get where she is and she is fucking glorious.
Her left hand automatically wipes some mud off her thigh. Would be nice for her next venture to be back in silk sheets though.
The Inuzuka scion juts out his chin harshly. His canines peek over his lip, and Ino absently tries to remember what kissing him must have felt like.
He rumbles, non verbal for what must be twenty seconds, a deep sound in his chest while he visibly tries to decide how to handle this threat.
"I get to help you clean up after A-classes." He says, finally.
"I don't need help." She counters, "I have a colleague on standby for any serious medical injuries when I return to Konoha, and use three clan techniques to remove any potential psychological contamination."
"I know you don't. You could do it all in your sleep, the way you talk. But you're part of my pack and that's what we want to do."
His voice is firm and unyielding, just like she was earlier. Ino goes to push back- and then considers that he has, in fact, implied he is comfortable with her being put in similar situations in the future.
"Okay." She nods slightly.
"Okay then," he nods back, and pushes past her to lead the way back to Moegi and a bath.
A/N: Hey yall, apologies for the delay in updating. This one was pretty dark, would love your thoughts.