Rating: M (chapter is T)

Words: 3,600

Pairing: Genma/OC

Summary/Warnings: Kakashi is oblivious, much teasing, Genma is either a really bad roommate or he likes making Setsumi miserable, fight scene (which I suck at lol)

Notes: Thanks to Cinlat for helping make this chapter better, and I'm kind of tired of apologizing for how long updates take? If you follow me you know I have a new baby. Suffice it to say life is hard and I've been interrupted probably 75 times while working on this?

Mission Report - One Month

Continuing to lay groundwork. Update soon - S

Kakashi eyed the scrap of paper with a raised brow, then incinerated it with a fire jutsu. Not that he needed to worry about any sensitive information being leaked given the scant report. It could be months before Setsumi and Genma got a decent lead on their target, but Kakashi had known that from the beginning. Hopefully, for their sakes, it would be sooner, rather than later.

Brushing the ash from his fingers, Kakashi glanced at the mess of paperwork on his desk. Dusk had fallen over the village, but he could work for another six hours and still not be caught up with everything that needed doing. Exhaling in frustration, he flicked on the lamp and picked up the next report: a list of low grade missions that had been completed in the past month.

Four pages into the mind-numbing details, a knock disrupted the silence. Kakashi frowned at the clock, then at the door. Someone seeking him out at the office this late in the evening was unusual. "Come in," he called.

Familiar pink hair peeked around the edge of the door, followed by the rest of Sakura, holding a nondescript bag in her hands. Immediately, the aroma of food filled the room. "You're working late again," she accused with a smile. "I sent Raido home; I'll save you from any assassins that show up."

Kakashi chuckled. "You, and the Anbu who is undoubtedly hiding in the shadows somewhere nearby in case I've forgotten how to protect myself?"

"Have you?" Sakura teased, pushing a stack of reports out of the way so that she could put the bag on Kakashi's desk. He watched her, amused at the level of comfort she showed in the Hokage's office.

Instead of rising to the bait, Kakashi tipped his chair back and met Sakura's gaze. "What's all this, then?"

"Dinner," Sakura answered with a shrug. "I'm hungry, and you should be, so I brought something to eat." She pulled out cartons and chopsticks, then passed them to Kakashi as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"So, what? You decided to take pity on an old man because he's working late?" Kakashi laughed, accepting the proffered food after laying his report aside.

Sakura rolled her eyes. "It's not pity, and you're not old." She moved across the room to take a seat on his couch, tucking her legs beneath her. "Besides, everyone else was busy," she mumbled with a shrug.

"Glad to know that I'm a last resort," Kakashi snorted, opening his box to the warm aroma of meat and rice.

Grinning, Sakura lowered her chopsticks. "Well, I was planning to go out with Ino, but Sai asked her to dinner, so-"

"Sai asked her to dinner," Kakashi repeated, brow furrowing in confusion. He didn't know which was more surprising: that Sai would find the tact to ask someone to dinner, or that Ino would accept him. Those two were as different as people could be. Then again, Kakashi was hardly an authority on such matters. He'd never given much thought to romantic relationships. Team dynamics were complicated enough.

Laughter filled the air. "I swear, for such a good shinobi, you're terrible when it comes to gossip. They've been dating for two months."

Kakashi frowned and tried to remember if he'd heard anything to that effect. If he had, he couldn't recall. Shaking his head, the man narrowed his eyes. "Let me guess, you came to tell me that you're dating Naruto?"

"Only for six months now," Sakura answered while rolling her eyes. Kakashi's mouth fell open enough to be obvious beneath his mask. He stumbled through a congratulations that he didn't quite feel, and Sakura burst out laughing again. "Naruto would be dating Hinata if he wasn't such an idiot. She's crazy about him, and I think he feels the same, but he doesn't know what to do about it."

Kakashi exhaled in relief, having to be a mediator between Sakura and Naruto would be a nightmare. It had been easier with Sasuke. Whatever romantic notions Sakura fekt for the Uchiha had ended with the war. Sasuke had put her under a genjutsu, ostensibly to keep her from interfering with the fight between he and Naruto. Even so, the memory of her lying on the ground, twitching through the nightmare of being killed over and over again, made it easy for Kakashi to know who he sided with.

Pushing the thought away, Kakashi took a bite of food and savored the spicy warmth. "So, if that isn't the reason that you're here, what is?"

"I just wanted someone to talk to after my shift," Sakura admitted with a shrug. "You wouldn't believe the patient that I had earlier. He said the wounds came from jutsu research, but I'm not sure I believe him."

Sakura launched into a story of scratches and old scars that left Kakashi laughing despite himself, and grateful that he wasn't a medical nin. The food grew cold, and the darkness closed tighter around them as time slipped by unnoticed.

"If I find your underwear hanging over the shower curtain one more time, I'm going to throw it out the window," Setsumi snipped, holding the offending garment between pinched fingers while her nose scrunched with disgust. Boxers, of course they would be boxers. She didn't know why that annoyed her so much, but it did.

Genma laughed from the couch where he lounged, sleeveless shirt showing sweat dappled skin. Brown hair hung damply against his shoulders, mussed from sleep and heat. Genma ranked his fingers through the strands just in time for the boxers to hit him square in the face. "Oh come on, how else am I going to do my laundry?"

"Like a normal person," Setsumi snarled. "At the laundromat, not the bathroom sink."

Still chuckling, Genma tossed the boxers onto the cushion beside him and sat up, bare feet thumping to the floor. "You should get out more," he suggested. "Find a guy, get laid, enjoy your time away from Konoha."

Setsumi sputtered under her breath, a dozen responses on the tip of her tongue fighting to escape. "This isn't a vacation," she finally managed, anger burning her cheeks.

"It isn't a punishment either," Genma countered, glancing up at the clock. "Since you're done with the bathroom, I'm going to shower. I have to go out again tonight."

"I wasn't-" Setsumi realized that Genma had already moved past her and shut the door behind him. There was no point in arguing; the man would just give Setsumi a cheeky grin and say that she was welcome to join if she wanted to.

After a month together, Setsumi could read Genma like a book, whether she wanted to or not. She had hoped that they would have some solid information by now, but their target proved more elusive than she'd imagined.

Crossing the room to the couch that Genma had vacated, Setsumi pulled her notebook off of the table and leafed through it. She'd been systematically visiting marketplaces in the village, trying to find a lead. As a woman, shopping allowed her to fit into the civilian population and make connections naturally. Genma sought out the seedier places, a task that Setsumi was happy to leave him to. Bars were more his scene than hers, anyway.

Taking out a pencil, Setsumi carefully wrote down her progress from today. The few sentences didn't reflect the amount of work that she'd poured into this mission over the past month. So far, only a fruit vendor held any promise for useful information. The woman had shown interest when Setsumi lamented the power that the shinobi nations had amassed. The expression had been subtle, a slight frown that creased the vendor's brow and the skin around her eyes. The look had disappeared almost instantly, but it was enough for Setsumi. Over the past two weeks, she'd begun developing the friendship. It could be additional weeks before the work gleaned anything useful, however.

Sighing, Setsumi flipped her notebook closed and leaned her head against the thread-worn cushions. The stifling air inside the room made her want to take a nap rather than work on her ponderings. A cold shower had been her plan, but Genma ruined that by taking over the bathroom. The logical part of Setsumi's mind suggested that it made sense because he would be spending the evening looking for his own leads, but she ignored that whisper. She was allowed to be indignant about nearly everything the man did, especially since it all seemed tailored to annoy her.

To harden her anger, Setsumi glared around the messy apartment. After only a short time of living there, it looked like the pair had been renting the space for the better part of a year. Clutter crowded nearly every surface, from the table to the kitchen counters. It even clung to the corners of the room like a film that couldn't be washed away.

Taking a deep breath, Setsumi let it out slowly. She preferred things a certain way, and it went deeper than not having underwear drying in the bathroom. She liked her dishes washed right after a meal and put away. The bed should be folded neatly after sleeping, papers placed in organized stacks on the desk, and clothes held in drawers rather than over the backs of chairs. Until she'd met Genma, Setsumi hadn't realized that such things weren't common sense.

The annoyances underscored the pair's differences. Cartons of takeout food rested on the table, remnants of Genma's lunch because he'd been too lazy to make anything despite the wealth of ingredients Setsum had purchased. Standing up, the woman padded over and nudged the half eaten garbage out of the way so that she could start making her dinner. For the first two days, she'd picked up after Genma, expecting him to catch on and start cleaning up after himself. Instead, he'd gotten even messier. Setsumi assumed that if she left the mess out long enough, Genma would pick it up on his own. So far, her plan hadn't worked.

Chopping up the vegetables only took a few minutes. Add a little oil into the pan, and within a few minutes, dinner was ready. Setsumi didn't need a lot of food since she wasn't burning a tremendous amount of energy by walking around the village. She had just dumped the contents of the pan into a bowl and reached for a pair of the disposable chopsticks when she heard Genma. "So, have you found out anything useful yet?"

"I've made a start," Setsumi responded, wondering how he'd managed to shower and change so quickly. She got her answer when she turned toward the sound. Genma stood in the bathroom doorway, the towel wrapped around his waist highlighting the total lack of clothing elsewhere. Belatedly, the movement of Genma's hands drying his hair drew Setsumi's attention. "I-where are your clothes?"

Genma chuckled. "Hanging over the sink to dry." The shinobi effortlessly ducked beneath the chopsticks that Setsumi hurled at his head. "You know, it's not good mission etiquette to throw things at your partner. I'm going to have to make a note of that in my final report."

When Setsumi growled low in her throat, a sound that had become alarmingly commonplace, Genma held up his hands to feign innocence. "You don't have to take everything so seriously. What have you found?"

Completely unconcerned with his state of undress, Genma crossed the apartment to poke at the notebook that Setsumi had been writing in earlier. Flushing in annoyance, she snatched it out of his hands. "Little enough, but I have some leads," she shot back.

"Like what?" Genma asked, scooping up the takeout from lunch. Setsumi absolutely did not watch the smooth stretch of muscle across his shoulder as he reached for another set of chopsticks. He turned back toward her, genuine curiosity on his face.

Setsumi shook her head, annoyance at herself for even noticing his physique. "I'm not having this conversation until you put some clothes on. Have some dignity, we're on a mission." She had a feeling that she was going to get tired of repeating those words over the next few months.

Rolling his eyes, Genma carried the box of takeout to the bedroom. The man compromised marginally by returning in a pair of pants rather than a towel. Setsumi opened her mouth to lobby for more clothing, then gave it up as close enough. She was going to have to lower her standards when it came to conduct from her partner.

"A woman in the market exhibited signs of unrest when I mentioned the shinobi power imbalance," Setsumi began. "She avoided the topic after that, but I know there's something there."

"Riveting," Genma mocked, digging through the box of food in his hands. "Let me know how that turns out."

Setsumi huffed. "Do you have anything better?"

Genma grinned like a cat who'd managed to catch a bird without getting a single peck for its efforts. "Maybe." The man stretched and tossed the takeout toward the bin as he glanced over at the window. Ruddy sunlight indicated that the day was drawing to a close. "But, I'm going to be late, so you'll just have to wonder."

"You aren't even dressed yet," Setsumi argued. "We're supposed to be a team."

A mumbled response came from the other room, pulling Setsumi to her feet. Sharing information was important. If Genma thought she was going to put up with only having half of the intel about this mission when she was acting as captain he had-Setsumi's thoughts slid to a halt as she stepped in the bedroom. Genma had changed into a black shirt that stretched across his muscles like second skin. He paused in the motion of tucking the garment into his pants. A stylized swirl of red and black spanned his left hip, a scar bisecting the tattoo.

"You're Anbu?" Setsumi asked incredulously.

The lazy smile that permanently curved Genma's lips lifted slightly as he tugged another shirt over the sleeveless one. "What I am, is late." He tucked several senbon into a leather strap on his back that Setsumi hadn't noticed before. Two more slipped beneath the leg of his pants, and another three across his forearm. A katana slanted across Genma's back, grip peeking above his left shoulder.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Setsumi crossed her arms, eyes skimming over Genma's outfit several times before coming back to his face. "We aren't supposed to be doing-whatever it is you plan on doing with that many weapons."

"I'm doing my job," Genma responded, then pushed past Setsumi toward the door. "Don't wait up."

"I didn't expect you to show." The voice rang through the semi-darkness, as if the speaker had materialized from thin air. At least, it would have, if Genma hadn't noticed the thug as soon as he stepped into the side street. "Little fellas like you aren't often up to the challenge."

A slow smile curled across Genma's lips. "I can hold my own, don't worry about that." He didn't turn toward the shadows where the man hulked, corded muscles standing out on the arms folded over his chest. Instead, Genma stared straight ahead at the other forms that were detaching themselves from the scattered darkness. Five of them, bulky and vicious looking, scars crisscrossing their bodies.

"We'll see about that," sneered the smallest man. He outweighed Genma by at least thirty pounds and had a cruel glint in his dark eyes.

Genma lifted his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. He had expected there to be questions about his skills, but he needed to be careful not to overplay his strengths. The senbon that he'd secreted on his person would remain there unless he was forced to fight for his life, a last resort.

"Kiro will put you through your paces," answered the voice from the shadows. "We only accept the best in our ranks. I'm sure you understand."

The implication hung heavily in the air that if Genma wasn't up to the task, he wouldn't leave the alleyway alive. Excitement vibrated through his veins. For over a month, he'd been on this mission with no test of his skills or strength. Now, the opportunity finally presented itself. Genma tightened his hand into a fist, then released the tension coiled there and turned toward the man who'd approached him.

"Hand to hand," Kiro announced, then launched himself forward with a vicious jab.

Genma's instincts told him to leap toward the wall, but he forced his feet to remain still. Kiro's hand glanced off his shoulder as Genma brought his own guard up. The other man's face twisted in mockery. "Not so good at the unexpected, are ya?"

Kakashi flashed through Genma's mind, that damnable eye smile he always wore when parroting the expect the unexpected line. That type of mentality was practically fundamental to shinobi. It was also the reason that Genma allowed himself to be struck. Though they hadn't been able to gather much intel, both Setsumi and Genma knew that their mark had risen to power by exploiting the fear of shinobi after the last war. To prove that he had the skills of a ninja would have backfired immediately. Instead, Genma had to play this farce out.

Kiro danced in close, fists pummeling the forearms that Genma used to defend himself. While he wasn't a taijutsu expert, he had spent years on a team with Gai. Some of the eccentric man's training had rubbed off. Genma moved easily through the steps, blocking just there, allowing a blow to land here. His opponent had to be low in the ranks, even the greenest genin could have schooled him. Half of Genma's struggle was making it look like the man actually challenged him.

While spinning away from a punch, fire roared across Genma's chest, followed closely by the sticky warmth of blood. Chuckles rose from the gathered onlookers as the shinobi landed, putting a hand to the gash across his ribs. Kiro pressed the attack a second time, blade in each hand. The weapons made the contest a modicum closer to fair, but the pair's skills were still worlds away.

"I thought this was hand to hand," Genma observed as he moved. Kiro snorted, slashing at the air where he'd been moments before.

Though the rules would have permitted it, Genma didn't reach for the katana slanting across his back, or the kunai in his weapon pouches. He increased his speed just enough to avoid being hit and threw a few punches so that it looked like he was trying. The shadows shifted to his right as the ring leader waved his hand in some type of signal.

A foot slammed into Genma's back, sending him sprawling forward as Kiro's fist sped toward his face. The only way to avoid being punched would have been to infuse chakra into his feet and spring into the air. Instead, he took the hit, feeling his jaw unhinge. He staggered two steps to the right and into the solid chest of a third fighter who immediately shoved him away.

Of the five men, only the leader remained out of the fray. The other four converged on Genma with swift punches and kicks that left his body aching. He let it drag on for several minutes, willing himself to ignore the flashes of pain in his ribs and chest. Then, when he knew they'd gotten sloppy with victory, he responded. Genma caught a kick aimed at his hip with one hand and pivoted to slam the flat of his palm into the man's chest. Even without chakra, it knocked the breath from his opponent's lungs.

Genma didn't have time to gloat. He ducked beneath another fist, then kicked the man's feet out from under him. The stranger hit the ground hard, thrown off balance by both Genma's kick, and his sudden show of skill. He planted one foot on the man's chest and kicked off, leaping away from Kiro's blade. Even as he turned, Genma captured the thug's wrist and squeezed a pressure point with his fingers, making Kiro cry out. The knife fell into the shinobi's waiting hand, and he clipped Kiro's temple with the hilt, dropping him to the ground.

Genma landed, blade tip pressed against the throat of his final opponent. The man's green eyes opened wide, fear bleeding into them as crimson trickled down his neck.

"Enough," the leader laughed, stepping into the moonlight. Genma flicked the blade toward the man, sinking it into the plaster of the building beside his head. He laughed again. "Aye, now you're just showing off."

The other men dragged themselves back to their feet as Genma met the leader's dark eyes. "Eiji," the man offered, holding out a hand. Genma shook it without speaking. "It seems you do have some skill about you, though it takes a little work to bring it out. Meet me back here tomorrow at the same time, and we'll talk about your duties."

Grinning, Genma spat out a mouthful of pink saliva. Though he'd be bruised and battered in the morning, and possibly need stitches, he'd gotten one step closer to assassinating their target.