Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.


Puppet in Pink

6. A Study In Overload

But of what help is it to thee

To know this diversity?

Know that with one single fraction of my Being

I pervade and support the Universe,

And know that I AM.

-The Bhagavad Gita

"Doctor, we have a report on patient A24J67."

The nurse's voice was soft yet urgent as she clicked up the hallway at a mincing high-heeled pace, clutching a file folder to her chest. The white-clad shoestring of a man who she spoke to stopped mid-step and turned to look at her.

"A24J67...She was checked out of here nearly a month ago. We have no legal obligation to continue research on her." He knew as well as she did that what he said was the truth, yet the slight quaver in his tone betrayed an uncommon eagerness. "Tell me anyways, though."

The nurse seemed smug, smiling through curls of sandy hair as she handed him the sheath of paper. "See for yourself. I haven't even read it yet. I didn't have the 'legal obligation' to, or the 'legal time'."

With that, she whirled and walked away, pleased at the thought of having said something as mockingly 'witty' as the quips from her favorite soap operas.


A sudden metallic screech from the telephone sliced through the layers of sleep Kakashi had managed to accumulate. With groggy instinct, the silver-haired teacher turned over and pulled the pillow over his head in a futile effort to drown out the electronic wailing. Let the answering machine get it.

He peered cautiously from under his blankets at the digital clock on his nightstand. Its glowing red lights winked at him emotionlessly, burning an angular 2:48 AM into his retinas.

Yeah, let the damn answering machine get it.

Kakashi listened for the familiar click, wondering in spite of himself who the hell his caller was.

All he got was the cowardly white noise of empty silence, recorded with nonsensical precision onto an impersonal reel of magnetic tape.

"Stupid telemarketers..." he muttered, yawning. Giving in to his tired mind, dropping his consciousness like a coin down the elevator shaft of slumber. It was only a matter of waiting for the thin ring of metal as it hit bottom.


The doctor put down the phone with a sigh. Running his hand through greasy salt-and-pepper hair, he tried to put an end to the mental debate that wracked his sleep-deprived brain. Should he have told the girl's instructor? Should he have left a message, instead of just hanging up like some B-movie stalker?

He hadn't gotten around to reading the report until way after midnight. There were always the lawyers. Stupid lawyers, calling, threatening to sue, claiming that they knew with absolute certainty what he did last summer. Distracting. Even now, after reading the information, he wasn't sure if he'd really read it at all.

The doctor stared at the neatly stacked and stapled collection of papers that took center stage on his normally cluttered desk, outshining by far the dim lamp with the dusty yellow shade and the stained coffee mug half-filled with a distasteful opaque brown liquid.

He wondered who the writer was; if whoever had typed the fifty-something pages knew what he was talking about.

He didn't really want to know the answer.

Details of information came back unbidden, from wherever he'd filed them in the twenty minutes it had taken to read. He let them wash over him, knowing no other way to dull his all-too-sharp mind for the moment. To placate his needling intelligence, to draw himself away from the real target with tantalizing decoys.

According to the report, a new machine had been acquired a few days after A24J67's release. Partly in jest, partly to test, an anonymous intern had (purportedly) fed the data for abovementioned patient's scans into the apparatus. What he found (apparently) gave him cause for alarm, seeing as how said intern managed to get the results to one of his superiors.

And here began the 'turmoil'. The scans of the scans, if one could even put faith in such a fluke, (allegedly) showed an anomaly in the chakra coil system. No specifics as to the type of anomaly; scans still officially labeled 'indistinct'.

Meaningless.

Should have ended there.

But no, the writer just had to give concrete proof of his foolishness. Babbled on, stated that there was only one known jutsu that could have caused such an abnormality, contradicting himself and reminding the reader that of course that was impossible, that the jutsu had been locked up for years due to high risk, no need to worry.

In other words, it was a lot of talk and nothing said. Complete, utter gibberish. "Nothing said at all," the doctor grumbled, easing himself up from his chair. His feet had fallen asleep. Tossing the report into the overflowing garbage can, he laughed at how stupid everyone else in this world was.