Chapter 1: The man in unit 306

They tried to make be go to rehab, but I won't go, go, go — "Rehab" (Amy Winehouse)

For the past two months, Date Shizuka lived in her own personal hell.

Day to day work at the Konohagakure Metropolitan Police Department for Shizuka consisted of the following: filing paperwork for investigations she couldn't even be a part of, rescuing cats from trees, filing more paperwork for the cat incident, breaking up skirmishes between petty day drinkers, filing more paperwork for that, and getting screamed at by her superiors for not following protocol. Apparently as a lowly general duties officer, you need authorization from higher-ups to tackle and detain drunk brawlers in the street, especially if one of them is the spoiled nephew of the governor.

Shizuka heaved a sigh and tipped back another cup of sake. There was a dull ache in her legs from yet another day of running after the yellow-haired runt that had a penchant for painting every public surface in Konoha. Did the department really think that this was the best use of her abilities? Shizuka had read the recent reports coming in from the Criminal Investigations Unit — their notes were so sparse and poorly written. Did they think they could catch anyone with such clumsy record keeping and surface-level observations? Shizuka didn't think she was an arrogant or egotistic person, but she knew she could do better than the idiots running around in her old department.

Whatever. The department deserves those dimwits, if they think they'll do a better job than what I did. She motioned for the bartender to refill her cup. The moment the liquid filled it, she wasted no time downing the alcohol. "Keep it coming, sir," she said to the bartender, who simply refilled her cup once more. And again, and again.

The izakaya Shizuka found herself in today wasn't her usual haunt for drinks. Actually, she hadn't planned on drinking today at all. Usually she refrained from drinking in the middle of the week, as she'd rather keep her hungover state hidden from her coworkers. If she did opt to drink on her own, she would usually buy some beers from the convenience store by her apartment, but canned beer in your kitchen doesn't quite hit the same way as hard liquor in the presence of complete strangers. So today, Shizuka made the impulsive decision to drink her liver away in the bar in the outskirts of her neighborhood.

"Another sir," Shizuka motioned to the bartender. All feelings of irritation and frustration at her job were fizzling away into thoughts of keeping her balance and tracking the fuzzy objects in her vision. Most people would find the sensation uncomfortable and disorienting, but Shizuka welcomed it like an old friend. She tipped back and forth in her seat before planting both hands on the counter. "Another."

The old man across from her put down the sake bottle in his hand and shook his head. "I think you've had enough for tonight, miss. You should go home."

Shizuka let out an irritated exhale through her teeth and reached into her jacket pocket. With clumsy hands, she fumbled out a couple coins and bills. "Take my money and give me another drink."

The man pushed her hand back to her. "Maybe tomorrow, but you should get back now. Do you have anyone to take you home?"

"Ah whatever, no use in fighting," Shizuka mumbled to herself. She shoved the money back into her pocket and buttoned up her coat. Her shaky legs found the floor. It took a few moments before her balance settled.

"Miss, are you sure you're okay? Should we call you a cab?"

The words went unnoticed by Shizuka, who was already halfway out the door. Not that it would have mattered — she wouldn't have wanted to spend cash on a cab anyways.

Despite being smashed to hell and back, Shizuka somehow knew the way back home. Thankfully the izakaya was just a fifteen minute walk to her apartment complex. Despite the dim streetlights and shady alleyways, Shizuka's instincts guided her along familiar streets, dodging drunk catcallers and questionable individuals exchanging cash and pills. It may not be the friendliest part of Konoha, but Shizuka was not the friendliest person. She had a taser on her hip and pretty decent aim, if it came down to that.

In a somewhat miraculous feat of unconscious stumbling, Shizuka made it back to her apartment building in one piece. The alcohol from her last few shots was starting to really kick in. Her abdomen and chest felt all kinds of uncomfortable, and she could feel her body protesting against the drinks. Do I need to throw up? She inhaled, held her breath, then exhaled. I can make it back in without throwing up. As if it was listening, her stomach made another turn inside her.

Fuck.

Shizuka was not about to stain her pride by vomiting all over the stairwell, so with every ounce of energy and coordination she had left, she hauled herself up three flights of concrete stairs. Her hands clung to the metal railing in case her shifting vision failed her — which, given how she was feeling, could happen at any moment.

The third floor greeted her with a lone flickering fluorescent light above her head. The hall was beginning to swirl a bit faster than before, and Shizuka knew she probably couldn't keep the contents of her stomach down for much longer. With one hand on the wall next to her and another fishing around her pocket for her keys, she made her way down the hall until she stopped at a familiar-looking gray door. Trying her best to keep her hand steady, she guided the key to the lock, only to find that it wouldn't go in.

"What the fuck?" She tried again. "Don't tell me the apartment changed the lock without telling me." She tried all her other keys, tried them upside down, then tried digging into her pockets for a paperclip. Her stomach did another somersault and its contents crept further up her esophagus. Unlike her pride, her body would not wait for a toilet.

"Fuck it."

Shizuka took a few steps back from the door, turned slightly sideways, and then charged shoulder-first into it. Her body was so saturated in alcohol that she didn't even feel the impact. The door swung wide open.

She wasted no time slipping out of her shoes, running to the bathroom, and vomiting into the toilet. Her ears were ringing and her heart was beating from exertion, but in the background Shizuka thought she could hear unusually loud barking. The neighbor's dog is back at it again, she thought as she dry heaved. At the bathroom door, she could've sworn a small dog was barking at her angrily. But before she could take a closer look, Shizuka passed out cold.

It was 3:10 AM when Kakashi was rudely awakened by the door to his apartment being busted open and Pakkun going berserk by the bathroom. Thinking the worst, the gray-haired man grabbed the pistol under his pillow and ran over to his howling dog.

He smelled the situation before he saw it — it reeked of vomit and sake. Covering his face with the mask that hung around his neck, he peeked into his bathroom to see a woman curled up by his toilet. Her dark hair and slim figure was familiar, and the fact that she had obviously been drinking made Kakashi recognize her as the woman who lived next door in unit 308. He often heard her drunken stumbling down the hall after nights of drinking, but she must've been especially inebriated tonight if she couldn't even make it back to her own place.

Kakashi walked in and flushed the toilet. The sloshing of the water didn't seem to bother the sleeping woman one bit. Realizing that she was no longer a threat, Pakkun walked over to check her out, sniffing her and recoiling slightly at the strong scent of alcohol.

"Let her sleep, Pakkun," Kakashi said as he picked up the pug. He felt a little bad for leaving her on the ground in his bathroom, but other than his bed, there wasn't exactly another surface in his tiny apartment that would be comfortable for sleeping. Besides, judging by how she didn't budge at the sound of his toilet, he doubted a change in comfort would affect anything when she was knocked out like this.

Kakashi sighed, closed the bathroom door behind him, and put his pistol back under his pillow. It would be difficult to try to fall asleep again. There was no point in trying. Instead of waiting for exhaustion to take him over, Kakashi turned on the lamp beside his bed and reached for an orange book on his nightstand.

The first thought Shizuka had when she awoke in Kakashi's bathroom was that the floor she was laying on was cold, and that it didn't feel like her bed. It took her a few moments to process that one, she in fact wasn't in her bed, and two, the soap on the sink wasn't the same as the one she bought the other day.

This isn't my place.

With that realization, Shizuka instantly sobered up. She checked her pockets — everything was still there, so at least she didn't get robbed. Her clothes were how she remembered them. She felt a bruise on her left shoulder, and the pain triggered a memory of her slamming herself into a door to get in.

Shizuka let out a groan and grabbed her head. I could get arrested for this. The irony.

The walls of all the apartments in the unit were impossibly thin, yet there were no sounds of showers running or tenants running down the halls late for work. It must've still been before seven, when people began to stir and roam around their units. Whoever's apartment this was, they'd probably be asleep. Perhaps she would be able to sneak out unnoticed and avoid any embarrassment.

She hauled herself up and slapped her face a few times to bring back feeling to her cheeks. The face that peered back at her in the mirror was haggard and tired, and she wanted nothing more than to crash in the comfort of her own bed.

The bathroom door opened with a slow creak. Shizuka peered out the crack to check if anyone was there. There was a dim light coming from the living space. Shizuka wasn't the type of person to leave a light on before going to bed — frankly, the electricity would cost too much — but maybe this was one of those people. Regardless, Shizuka wasn't going to spend the rest of her night in a stranger's bathroom, so she crept out of the bathroom as quietly and as quickly as she could.

Unfortunately, the moment she set her foot out the door, a gravelly voice greeted her. "Ah, hello there."

Shizuka turned slowly. A man waved at her from his bed, book in hand, dog at his side, clad in only his boxers and… a face mask? A blush crept up Shizuka's face and she concentrated on looking at him solely from his neck upwards. It must've been her next-door neighbor — his gray hair was a familiar sight from passing him down the hall on occasion.

"Oh." She cleared her dry throat. "Sorry, I was drunk and I accidentally… ah…"

"Broke my door and entered my apartment?" He cocked an eyebrow in her direction and Shizuka shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

"Yeah, um, I'm really sorry about that." Her voice cracked in the middle. God, she was so dehydrated. "Is there anything I can do," she gulped, "to repay you for this?"

The man closed his book and waved his hand. "Nah, don't worry about it." Shizuka exhaled. Her budget really wasn't ready to handle replacing a whole door. "Just buy me a meal sometime." His eyes crinkled back into half moons, and Shizuka wasn't sure if the smile was genuine or fake.

At the proposition of a shared meal, Shizuka's already red face darkened further. "Oh, um, sure?"

"Oh no, not like a date or anything, if that's what you're thinking." The man ran a hand through his gray hair and Shizuka tried her best to not seem like she was leering at his unclothed torso. "I just thought it'd be nice to talk as neighbors. What's your name again?"

"Date Shizuka. You?"

"Hatake Kakashi." The pug next to him pawed in front of itself as if it were dreaming of chasing a squirrel. "Well, Date-san, I hope you get some rest tonight."

That was her much-needed cue to leave. "Thanks. You too." She glanced at the title of the orange book Kakashi was holding, blushed even harder, and turned quickly towards the door, shoving her feet into her shoes.

Icha Icha? Pervert.

She walked a few paces down to the next nearly identical gray door, the number 308 stamped on it, and unlocked it with her key. Chucking her jacket onto the floor, she flopped backwards onto her bed and, for the second time that night, fell into a deep sleep.

"God, you look horrible."

Shizuka didn't need to take her head off the table to know that Kurenai was looking at her with great concern. This morning hadn't been the smoothest, to say the least. Her alarm clock had gone off at seven as always, but Shizuka was so exhausted that she slept through it and woke up thirty minutes late. She had thrown on her uniform as quickly as possible and skipped combing her hair, which splayed in an unruly fashion along her upper back, and ran to the subway. On the outside, she looked like a complete wreck, which was pretty in line with how she was feeling from her hangover.

There was a sound of chairs moving across from her as Kurenai and Asuma took their seats, canteen trays in hand. Kurenai, the tall, dark-haired woman with striking red eyes, was her co-sergeant in the criminal and organized crime division before Shizuka's demotion. The burly man next to her, Asuma, floated between departments, although he was officially posted to the division of public safety. He liked high-stakes, confrontational jobs the most, and had the scars to prove it.

The smell of food was nauseating to Shizuka, who had to squint to keep the light from blinding her sensitive eyes as she lifted her head from her arms. "I feel horrible," she croaked out, trying to filter out the sounds of the bustling canteen.

Kurenai pushed a small bowl of miso soup towards her. "At least drink this. It'll help you feel a little better." Reluctantly, Shizuka took a few sips. The soup was lukewarm and somewhat bland.

The older woman sighed as she looked at Shizuka's drooping face. Her eye bags were so dark and prominent, it looked as if she had cried with mascara on. "Shizuka, I know I've said it before, but please try and moderate your drinking habits."

The woman in question said nothing and instead opted to take another sip of her soup. The bowl was like a shield between her and Kurenai's unapproving gaze, which always succeeded in making her feel a bit guilty. Her crimson eyes always seemed to peer right into her. Asuma didn't say anything, but even so, Shizuka could sense the same disapproving thoughts from the man.

"At the very least, if you drink by yourself, maybe don't get super drunk? With us it's okay, but I'm really concerned for your safety. What if something happens to you while you're drunk and we're not there to help you?"

Thoughts of waking up in Kakashi's bathroom flit through Shizuka's mind. Her stomach, originally empty, was now filled with embarrassment and her face flushed with thoughts of her shirtless neighbor judging her from his bed. The heat in her face was not the result of anything close to romantic thoughts, though. It was mostly irritation from Kurenai's chastising and shame for being caught in such a strange situation by someone she'd have to see on a somewhat regular basis. Hopefully, she could avoid running into Hatake in the apartment.

"Look," she swirled the soup around and tried to think of anything other than the events of the night before, "I'm fine, okay? It's my business."

Kurenai narrowed her eyes and set down her chopsticks. "Your business?"

Hearing the phrase come out of her friend's mouth tugged at a few of Shizuka's guilt strings. Kurenai definitely had a talent for making Shizuka reflect on her actions, especially the highly questionable ones. Unfortunately for Kurenai, guilt and shame were lower in Shizuka's emotional hierarchy than her penchant for stubborness.

"Yeah. My business." At this point, Shizuka had run out of miso soup, so she simply averted her eyes from Kurenai and looked down instead.

The tension between the two women was thick, with Kurenai staring down her younger friend and Shizuka looking everywhere but at her. Asuma pushed his tray to the side, lit a cigarette, and took a deep puff.

"Shizuka, don't snap at her. We're just worried for you." A waft of smoke left his mouth as he spoke. Like a petulant child, Shizuka shrugged. Every now and then, contrary to his rugged, intensely masculine appearance, Sarutobi Asuma would channel the persona of a wise old monk. Now happened to be one of those times. "And quite frankly," he scratched his beard, "this drinking habit of yours, you're wasting your potential on it."

"Well, if we're gonna talk about my 'wasted potential', I'd say that has to do more with my demotion than me drinking."

"Fair." He took another drag of his cigarette. "But you can't control that now. You can control the number of times you get completely fucking trashed, though."

Shizuka chewed the inside of her lip. Kurenai and Asuma were right, and she knew it. But the stress that drove her to bars at an increased frequency these days stemmed from the very fact that she had absolutely no control over whether or not she'd ever be allowed into the investigative department again. It was a vicious cycle that manifested its worst parts on Shizuka's affinity for liquor.

"I hate to use this card, but," Asuma paused in thought, "I might be able to pull some strings with the higher ups to maybe get you on a case, if that's what'll get you to stop drowning yourself in alcohol."

Shizuka and Kurenai looked at their friend, wide-eyed in shock. Both women knew how much Asuma hated it when people mentioned his connections to higher-ups, namely his father's position as Superintendent General. For a while, he had actually left the police because of it and took bodyguard jobs, collecting bounties on the side.

"No way," uttered a dumbstruck Shizuka as she straightened up in her seat. "You'd do that for me?"

"If that's what it takes for you to stop wallowing in self-pity, yeah."

Blunt as ever, that Asuma, but Shizuka couldn't feel offended when such an opportunity was presented to her. Even if there was a tiny chance of returning back to investigative work, Shizuka would take it.

She sent a small smile, an expression rarely seen on her face these days, towards Asuma. "Thanks."

"No promises though," huffed the man. "I'll see what I can do. Maybe Kurenai can come with me and say she needs extra hands on a case, and that you'd be a good fit." Kurenai nodded in agreement at the plan. "It won't be like you get your old position back, though."

"That's fine. I don't care about the title. Thanks."

Asuma grunted and stubbed out his cigarette. With that agreement, the tension between them fell and they moved onto more pleasing topics, such as Kurenai's disaster of a blind date last night. Shizuka listened with amusement as Kurenai rattled on about the bumbling idiot she had the misfortune of grabbing dinner with. Asuma's expressions throughout the story were a mixture of pity for the man, who had to experience Yuhi Kurenai's unbridled wrath, and relief when Kurenai mentioned she would "take a break from blind dates" for a while.

The three wrapped up their lunch and went their separate ways: Kurenai and Asuma back to the east wing of the station where all the serious crime work was being done, and Shizuka to the west, where officers sat around and filed paper all day, if they weren't off doing lowly patrol tasks. Going from the high energy, high stakes environment to the slow-paced office-job-esque work of her current placement made Shizuka feel, well, pretty damn useless. There were days where her work hours were jam packed with paperwork, others were filled with errand runs and minor incidents around town, and some days there was nothing to do at all. Even if the work in the community police affairs division was menial and beneath her skills, Shizuka preferred doing something rather than sitting and watching the hands on the clock tick by, which was probably why she was the one that ended up chasing down Uzumaki Naruto whenever a complaint about him reached their office.

"Date!" Funeno hollered at her from across the room, one hand covering his desk phone, "Complaint came in about that one delinquent."

Shizuka got up from her seat and pinched her nose, although she was secretly relieved at the opportunity to get outside. "Where at?"

"Hokage rock. Apparently he's painting moustaches on the faces."

"Alright." Shizuka grabbed her coat and headed to the city center, mentally preparing herself for the cat-and-mouse chase that always came with tracking down Uzumaki.