Chapter 2: A debt repaid

I do not lie, though facts may seem a little far-fetched, that's only 'cause I may be make-believe and full of darkness — "Hand Me Downs" (Mac Miller)

Uzumaki Naruto was not an easy boy to catch — the kid was damn fast and knew the streets of Konoha almost as well as Shizuka did. It took nearly twenty minutes to corner him in an alley, and even then she was only able to grab him after he tripped and spilled paint all over himself.

After dragging the paint-stained, yellow-haired brat back to the station by his ear, Shizuka tried to berate Naruto — yet again — for his disregard of law and order. In response, the kid stuck simply repeated her phrases back in a high-pitched voice and stuck out his tongue at her. Despite wanting to smack some sense into him, Shizuka figured she'd rather not have to file paperwork for assaulting a minor. She gave up after half an hour and sent the orange-clad delinquent back home, but not before flicking him multiple times on the forehead and confiscating his paint bucket and brush.

The next few days passed by without incident. It seemed that Naruto, at the very least, was taking a short break from mischief-making. There were less low-level disturbances around town than there were available officers in Shizuka's unit, so the majority of her time at work was spent lingering in the office and drawing the faces of the other officers in the corners of her notebook.

Sometimes, if anything of particular interest in her life cropped up — such as Asuma's offer to talk to some higher-ups — Shizuka would write it down in that same pocket-sized notebook. Recently, all her entries consisted of phrases like Still waiting to hear back from Asuma and I can't stand general patrol work any longer and I haven't had sake in five days. The last sentence was an unusual one in her book. She hoped that if she stayed on a somewhat-dry streak — or at the very minimum, not show up to work hungover — Asuma might get back to her sooner. These apprehensive thoughts were all that occupied Shizuka's headspace, but she resisted bugging her friend about it during lunch or whenever he stopped by to play a game of Go, which he always won. Aside from his father, Asuma was known throughout the station as the reigning champion of Go. Sometimes, though, Shizuka would come ever so close to winning, but her Asuma always turned it around.

At the end of her shift on the sixth night of being sake-free, Shizuka walked from the station to the convenience store by her apartment. It was Tuesday, which was her usual day to buy groceries for the rest of the week. It was also the day that alcoholic drinks were discounted.

Shizuka filled her basket with apples, potatoes, carrots, pork, and a six-pack of beer. The first few times she had purchased drinks from the store, the middle-aged lady at the counter repeatedly checked her ID. "Are you actually twenty?" she had asked, looking back and forth between Shizuka and her card to check if it was fake. By now, though, that same lady had seen Shizuka purchase the same six-pack every week for two years and, thankfully, had stopped carding her after the first month.

Shizuka walked back, groceries in tow, to her apartment. The cold air felt nice — she was always a winter person — and her mood, despite constantly mulling over when Asuma would get back to her, was surprisingly lighter than usual. At least, it was until she encountered a certain gray-haired man in the stairwell.

The moment she opened the door to the building and saw her neighbor carrying his laundry in one hand and Icha Icha Paradise in the other, Shizuka nearly dropped the beers lodged between her arm and her hip. At the sound of bottles clinking, the masked man glanced back. Shizuka saw him do a small double take — just barely, she almost missed it — before he gave her another one of his unreadable eye smiles.

"Ah, Date-san."

Shizuka nodded curtly, averting eye contact. "Hatake-san."

He waited for her to walk up to the steps before he continued walking, matching his pace with hers. "So, when're you treating me to dinner?"

Shizuka's eyes widened in surprise, but still kept her gaze low. It was still too embarrassing to look her neighbor in the eye. "You were serious about that?"

"Of course. You owe me for the door, remember?"

God, this is so embarrassing. "Right."

"I won't even be picky about it." There was a lightness to his voice, as if he were teasing her. "I'd let you choose the place."

Shizuka frowned. She didn't really eat out. Restaurant food, she figured, could be replicated at a much more reasonable price. Besides, her apartment, despite its size, was a fine enough place to eat.

"I don't really go out to eat."

Hatake hummed. "Then you'll let me choose? I know some pretty nice places. Expensive ones too…"

What is he, a scammer? "Fine, fine," grumbled Shizuka. "Why not just eat dinner at my place tonight then, and we'll call it even?"

"Oho, quite bold of you, Date-san," chirped the gray-haired man as he turned to look at her. "Inviting a man into your apartment for dinner! I didn't expect this from someone like—"

"Take it or leave it, Hatake."

He didn't miss the dropping of the formality and smirked in amusement. "I'm just teasing. I'll take it."

"And don't misinterpret. It's not a date."

"Of course."

Her neighbor quickly dropped off his laundry at his place before following her into her apartment. Shizuka's apartment was surprisingly clean for someone with a habit of heavy drinking. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she didn't own much to begin with. There wasn't much space in the tiny, one-bedroom apartment, barely enough for a bed, a small low table for eating, and a desk and chair in the far corner. A small stack of books laid beside her bed, which was really just a mattress. Off to the side of the living space was a small gas stove. There was hardly any counter space, but Shizuka made do by hanging cooking utensils and pots rather than have them occupy valuable kitchen real estate.

"Nice place you've got here."

Shizuka said nothing as she removed her shoes and set her groceries on the counter. The apples and beer were quickly sorted into the fridge, and as if on autopilot, Shizuka grabbed all the necessary ingredients for their dinner from the cabinet above her head: salt, pepper, curry roux, panko bread crumbs. The masked man watched her as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"You're making curry?"

"With tonkatsu, yes." Shizuka gestured to the rice cooker with a nod of her head. "Make two cups of rice. There's rice in the cabinet next to that."

Out of the corner of her eye, Shizuka saw him salute her with a lazy hand. "Sure thing, captain."

Once the rice was in the cooker, Kakashi watched from the side as Shizuka chopped the vegetables, prepped the curry, and fried the pork. Her movements were efficient and smooth, a far cry from the stumbling drunk he had seen nearly a week earlier. The smell of curry and cutlet made his mouth water.

"What're you just standing there for?" Shizuka asked. "It's done. Grab some plates."

Shizuka helped herself and the man to generous servings of food. She may not have been fond of her next-door neighbor, but Shizuka never held back when it came to sharing a home-cooked meal. Besides, this was a debt that had to be repaid. She couldn't risk missing the mark on his expectations.

They sat down at the low table. Shizuka glanced at the man across from her, the lower half of his face still covered. "Why do you wear that mask all the time?"

His hand moved up to his face, as if he'd forgotten he was wearing the black cloth in the first place. "Ah, force of habit." Habit? What a strange one. He lowered his mask to reveal an objectively handsome face with a strong jaw. It suited him, or at least, what Shizuka thought of him. She didn't let her eyes linger on him for long. Although it was just his face, Shizuka felt as if she were privy to a well-kept secret, one that she wasn't necessarily deserving of.

"It's good," the man said as he ate a spoonful of curry. Shizuka silently agreed by eating another bite of her creation. They ate in awkward silence for a few minutes, until he spoke again.

"Where'd you learn to cook?"

Shizuka finished chewing and set down her spoon, taking a sip of water. "My brother taught me."

"Older?"

"Yeah."

"How much?"

He was quite the curious one. "Six years."

"That's quite the difference." She nodded. "What does he do? Is he a chef?"

Shizuka set down her cup. "He's dead."

She said it so easily, so nonchalantly, yet the room seemed to drop a few degrees as the words came out her mouth. Maybe it was so easy to say because it wasn't true — or at least, Shizuka didn't believe it was. He had disappeared a few years ago, but the whole mess was too much to explain to a man she barely knew. It was much easier this way.

"Ah." Shizuka sensed an immediate change in her guest's demeanor, as his jaw tensed and his eyes adopted a faraway look. "I'm sorry for your loss." He sounded sincere — more sincere than most other condolences Shizuka had heard over the past three years, from acquaintances to extended family.

"It's okay. It was a while ago anyways."

They lapsed back into a somewhat terse silence, Shizuka eating her food as if nothing had happened and her neighbor looking up at her every few moments as if to make sure he hadn't offended her. They finished the rest of their food without exchanging another word.

Her neighbor finally spoke up again as Shizuka collected the dishes from the table. "I can help with washing the plates," he offered.

Shizuka put the plates in the sink and rinsed them with water before grabbing a beer from her fridge. "It's alright. I'll take care of them later." She looked over at the man, who was still seated. "Do you want one?" She held the bottle out in his direction.

"Sure." Shizuka nodded and took a second bottle. She sat back down at the table, pulled out her keychain, and opened the beers with the bottle opener she had attached to it.

She felt bad that her guest had gone relatively mute after bringing up her brother. In an attempt to introduce a more palatable topic, she asked, "What do you do for a living?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "I'm a freelancer."

He didn't seem like a writer, or at least that's what Shizuka thought he was referring to. His personal taste in novels was questionable, to say the least. The Icha Icha erotic novels weren't exactly considered respectible literature. But, she supposed, there was a certain… quirkiness to the man that could possibly lend itself to the lone, eccentric writer persona.

"What got you into that?" Shizuka was genuinely curious.

Her neighbor made a humming sound as he thought, his eyes adopting a faraway look as he looked past her shoulder. "Justice, I suppose."

"What about justice?"

"Ah you know," he replied, his eyes coming back to focus on her face. "Things like murder." He said it with a smile, but his voice held a certain darkness to it. Perhaps she was just imagining it.

Crime novels? Thrillers? Shizuka couldn't ever imagine someone so… flippant to write murder mysteries and true crime novels. Then again, she wasn't exactly the prime example of someone suited for her profession either, so she wasn't one to judge. She wondered if he knew how crimes were actually dealt with: the layers of never-ending bureaucracy, the paperwork, the number of hoops investigators had to jump through—

The man's voice cut through her thoughts. "And what do you do, Date-san?"

She took a long swig of her beer. "I'm a," she paused for a moment, "police officer."

At this, her neighbor nodded. "I guess that explains the taser," he said, his eyes wandering to the drawer top where Shizuka had put down her work stuff. "Do you enjoy police work?"

Right now, not really. "It's alright." Nearly unbearable. "Pays the bills."

"Hmm. Anything interesting that happens?"

"If you count chasing down neighborhood delinquents interesting, I suppose."

He leaned back, one arm propping him up from behind. "Tell me about it."

"There's this one blonde kid that just won't stop painting all over town, Uzumaki Naruto." At this, the man raised an eyebrow and gave an amused huff. Shizuka continued. "Kid's all over the place. Last week I chased him from Hokage rock all the way to the hot springs. Another time he spilled paint all over me. Took nearly three days to get all of it out of my hair." Shizuka took a few more gulps of her beer, fingering the ends of her dark hair as if paint was still stuck to it. "Everytime I manage to drag him into the station though, he doesn't listen to me when I tell him to stop. It's been ten, maybe twenty, times at least. I don't know why his parents don't just tell him to stop. At least it gives me something to do at work, I guess." She finished off her beer and set the empty bottle on the table.

"Maybe the kid has problems at home."

Shizuka exhaled and shrugged. "Maybe."

For a few minutes, neither of them said a word, but this time Shizuka didn't feel as uncomfortable. The alcohol, even in its moderate amount, must have tempered her usual aversion to social situations. Although she didn't feel like she knew Hatake Kakashi, she no longer felt the initial embarrassment and shame that she had experienced an hour and a half ago. He wasn't even as annoying as she thought he seemed. Borderline nosy, yes, but he had his redeemable qualities. At the very least, she hoped she was no longer the "drunk girl who broke his door" and rather "the girl that gave him dinner and beer". Then she wouldn't have to dodge him in the hallway. They'd just pass each other, maybe say "hi", and leave it at that.

Once he finished his beer, her neighbor pulled up his mask and stood up. "I don't want to take up any more of your time, so I'll head back. Thanks for the meal."

Shizuka nodded. "Would you say it's suitable repayment for your door?"

He tapped his chin and pretended to think. "Hmm… I don't know. I might have to come back another time—"

"Hatake."

He chuckled and waved his hand. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I wouldn't mind if you invited me for another meal though, I'd even pay for the ingredients," he said with his signature eye smile.

"Right," Shizuka replied dismissively. She opened the door for her neighbor and beckoned him to leave. "Good night, Hatake-san."

"Just Kakashi is fine. Actually, Kakashi-kun would be even better, wouldn't it?" He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly at her. Shizuka crossed her arms, her foot keeping the door propped open.

"Good night, Kakashi."

"See you around, Shizuka."

She hadn't given him permission to address her by her first name, but Shizuka brushed it off. It wasn't as she'd see him too often afterwards. The past week was the most social interaction Shizuka had with anyone other than Kurenai and Asuma. Kakashi was just a fleeting anomaly.

As she cleaned up her kitchen and washed the dishes, Shizuka tried to remember the last time she had shared a meal at home. Come to think of it, all her meals in her apartment she had eaten alone. She had lunch with Kurenai and Asuma everyday, and on occasion went for dinner and drinks with them after work, but neither of them had ever been to Shizuka's place. It was a strange feeling to share her small space with a near complete stranger, even more to eat a home-cooked meal with him. The last time she had eaten with someone in a setting like this was with her brother, but back then he did the majority of the cooking. Every now and then he would have his friends over, and Shizuka would help set the table and portion out their plates.

A part of Shizuka had missed the feeling of a shared home-cooked meal, but it had been so long that she barely remembered what it felt like. And even though she barely knew Kakashi, it was a… somewhat pleasant experience. Comforting, even, to a certain extent.

Before she knew it, Shizuka's eyes felt a little prickly and wet. She blinked it away as soon as she felt it. Was she really going to get emotional over a one-off dinner with her weird neighbor? She shook her head and finished washing the dishes, concentrating on making sure the pots and pans were grease-free and sparkling.

Once everything was clean and in its proper place, Shizuka grabbed one more beer from the fridge and sat back at the table. She pulled out the pocket-sized notebook from her jacket and read through some of the brief entries she had written throughout the past few weeks:

Apparently, arrests only apply to people that don't have convenient political connections. I guess you can brawl on the street drunkenly if you're uncle's the governor, which means that I have to not only file wrongful arrest forms, but I have to write an apology letter as well. That drunk fucker can shove this apology up his - - -. Shizuka flinched at the crude description of the man's rectum. The anger she felt was justified, though. That man was the most entitled prick she'd ever met in her life.

Read through the description over stolen records from the department. I don't know why they aren't taking it seriously, at least they don't seem to be.

Almost beat Asuma (again). He's too good at this game.

Climbed a tree to retrieve a cat. Have splinters in my hand, it hurts to write.

Hungover. This was from the morning after Shizuka had found herself in Kakashi's apartment. The incident was too embarrassing to put into words, so that was all that was there.

The remainder of the entries from then were mostly Shizuka anxiously ruminating over Asuma's offer to talk to some people, presumably his father. She had only met the elder Sarutobi a twice: the first time when she visited an injured Asuma at the hospital, and the second when she got demoted.

Shizuka didn't like to think about the latter. The incident, which was about two months ago, was still a fresh wound for her. On a certain level Shizuka could see why they decided to punish her — she wasn't completing some of the mandatory tasks as a sergeant as timely as she should have, as she spent almost every free minute of her time looking into a closed case. But Shizuka knew that particular case shouldn't have been closed to begin with. The three-year-old missing persons case involving a certain officer "Tenzo" and biologist Date Shiro was prematurely shelved, Shizuka was sure of it.

No one else seemed to think so, though. Citing "neglect of work" and "personal conflicts of interest", it was decided that Shizuka would be transferred from the Criminal Investigative Unit to the Community Affairs Unit, where she had no direct access to higher-level security documents and wouldn't cause trouble.

The punishment always struck her, and Kurenai and Asuma, as too harsh. Despite being the youngest in the division, Shizuka was a talented and thorough investigator. But, according to Sarutobi Hiruzen, it wasn't just his decision to make — the Chief of Criminal Affairs, Shimura Danzo, had insisted on firing her. No number of testimonies from her friends or co-workers would help. Demotion was simply a compromise. Shizuka wasn't sure what she had done to make Danzo treat her so severely. She had barely even seen the old man around at work.

The memory left a bitter taste in Shizuka's mouth and she took another long drink from her beer to wash it away. In the meantime, she would lay low and not pry in the missing person's case, at least not at work. Any further missteps, and Shizuka could be fired completely. The past two months were just a temporary pause, and Shizuka knew she would get back on it at some point, even if waiting for that time wore her patience down to a thread.

Cheeks slowly turning red from the alcohol, Shizuka propped her head on her hand and stared blankly at the wall. The apartment was cold from the air outside, and she could hear barking from Kakashi's apartment next door. The sounds of a city pop record played softly from another unit. Above her, Shizuka heard someone moving around a chair. She wondered how many people lived alone in the building, cooped up in their tiny apartments, leaving for work and returning to an empty space each day like clockwork. Or in Kakashi's case, nearly empty. At least he had a pet.

Feeling tired from the day, Shizuka got up, threw away the bottles on the table, and washed up. Consistent hot water wasn't something that she could expect from the building, which was old and dilapidated. Best case scenario, she could catch a few minutes of a lukewarm shower, so she washed quickly. She mindlessly went through her nighttime routine: drying her hair, flossing, brushing her teeth. The woman Shizuka saw in the mirror was not happy, with a seemingly permanent darkness around her gray eyes, but she couldn't imagine herself looking any other way.

In the pitch-black darkness of her apartment, it didn't take long for her to fall asleep. That night, she dreamt of baking a pug-shaped cake with a familiar stranger. It was a happy dream.

A/N: How's everyone doing this quarantine? I only got back to writing, and this was a silly little idea I had, so I decided to give it a shot. Now that I'm two chapters in, I'm really excited to continue writing what I have in mind :)

If you have any thoughts, please don't hesitate to leave a review! Any feedback whatsoever is greatly appreciated.