Anko knows something is up when she catches herself buying a dozen boxes of dango. To be sure, she likes dango, likes the taste and the texture, and the way the skewers can be used as a weapon in a pinch.
But every shinobi has gut senses, instinct that tells them something isn't right, even if you can't see it. For some, its bones that ache where they've been broken, an itch on the back of the neck, a heavy feeling in the pit of the stomach; Anko gets cravings for dango.
She was eating dango when Orochimaru returned to Konoha, enough skewers to make a leaf symbol on a tree and make her stomach queasy. She'd tried to drag him into death with her then, still able to taste sugar on her lips.
It wouldn't, she sometimes thinks, have been a bad way to die.
She wonders what this batch of dango heralds, even as she slaps the ryo down on the counter and waves off the change. In a few hours it might not matter at all.
"Anko," Inoichi says, as she ducks out from under the noren of the stall, batting the fabric away with one hand. He sounds casual, if a bit tired, but a quick glance tells her he's in the Intel Division uniform not standard blues, and a second glance tells her there's - one, two, threefour - four ANBU on this street alone. Given the current state of affairs… that's four too many.
She feels a sharp surge of fear and covers it with a bite of dango.
"Yo, Inoichi," she answers, because she is Anko Mitarashi and she is not afraid. "You keep putting that uniform back on and you wonder why no one buys the 'I'm retired' line?"
"Can't pass this one off to anyone else," he says regretfully. "Walk with me?"
She wonders what would happen if she says 'no'. Four ANBU. Inoichi. There are three more shinobi on this street, probably twelve within shouting distance. There are countless civilians, wandering about unaware of the danger. They are near the heart of Konoha; she'd never make it to the walls.
But Anko has done this dance before and she resigns herself to doing it again.
What is it this time? She thinks. Do you think I let them in? Do you think I waited out the Exams, fought him, almost died and would still-
It hurts, a bit. Because Inoichi was the one to clear her from suspicion, to give her a chance in those early days when sleeper agent was only slightly kinder than spy and traitor. She knows she was put into the Intelligence Division because they're good at playing spies, just enough wrong information mixed in with the right stuff to catch anyone who thinks about passing it along. One year, then two, then the sharp looks had started to fade and she'd worked herself up the ladder, gaining strength and respect where she could because too many hours at the training field brought sideways glances and shooting fire up her neck-
It hurts, a little, to know they still suspect her after all that.
"Sure," she says, instead, and they walk a slow circuit back to headquarters. Inoichi doesn't rush, doesn't act like she's being taken into custody, and she's glad for the illusion. Once this is over - again - she'll be able to walk the streets with no more whispers than normal. "I heard about your kid. Sorry."
Heard, but not heard, the details were slim, but Inoichi had been called the Hospital to help and he was no medic-nin. She'd heard, too, that Ibiki had been leading that mission, and had been admitted long before the prisoners were dragged back to Konoha. The whole thing was very curious.
Inoichi accepts her words with a silent nod and they reach their destination. He doesn't even take her weapons off her, or her dango, leading her into a briefing room rather than an interrogation cell.
Sloppy, Inoichi, she thinks. Close quarters, one on one, she has a definite advantage. Wouldn't be able to go much further than that, but still. Sloppy.
"So what's it this time?" she asks lazily, licking her fingers clean of the sweet, sticky sauce. "Spying? Sleeper agent doesn't make much sense anymore."
He barely blinks. "I'm not here to question your loyalty, Anko," he says.
The glance she cuts him is sly and cats eyed, amused and disbelieving. "Really."
Inoichi isn't perturbed. "I have full faith in you as a shinobi of Konoha, Anko."
Anko, Anko, Anko, her name echoes in the repetitions. Who else do you think is here?
"Then what is it about?" she asks.
And that's where he hesitates. "We have," he says slowly. "Some new information about Orochimaru's curse seal."
That was not what she expected at all. Her shoulder throbs.
"New information," she says flatly. "That wouldn't need all this."
Not unless -
Not unless -
She has twelve wooden skewers, a full kunai pouch and leg holster. Her chakra is a near maximum capacity. Against Inoichi, one on one, she has the advantage, and she knows the halls of headquarters better than the back of her hand -
"Anko," Inoichi says sternly. "You are my comrade. You are a valued shinobi of Konoha. We will not throw you away. Do you understand me?"
Almost against her will, a wry smile quirks her lips. She still can't fool him. "So tell me, Inoichi. Why am I here." It isn't a question.
"I want," he says. "To mind walk you."
Her breath catches. "Do you have a warrant?" To get the Hokage to sign off on that… it was invasive… reserved only for the most important interrogations.
She remembers the feeling, from those dark and scared days, fumbling to find footing when it seemed like the world had been ripped out from underneath her. Stripped open and hollowed out, someone sifting through everything that made her her.
"No," he answers. "Not yet. I could get one, but I'd prefer if this were voluntary."
Voluntary. If you have no choice is it still-
"Why?" she asks, not quite able to squish all the anguish out of her voice. One hand rises to fist on her collarbone, pressing down against the burning. "What do you think I know? I would have told you-"
His eyes are sharp on her hand, and she forces it back down on to the table even though the burning sensation hasn't abated. It hasn't been this bad in years.
"I don't want to look through your memories," Inoichi says. "We think… we think there is a fragment of Orochimaru in the seal."
She blinks at him, not quite … not quite…
"Oh my god."
The thought sinks in slowly, like a heavy weight pressing against wet ground. It makes her a little sick, thinking, all this time…
Then the implications come. She's heard about the body swapping ninjutsu, whispered about in bars and around water coolers, giving Orochimaru the place of a horror or a nightmare… knowing that could be her …
And then beyond that…
"Fucking bastard!" She exclaims, slamming a fist onto the table. She's absurdly grateful that Inoichi doesn't flinch, doesn't call for backup. "Can he see?"
"We don't know," Inoichi answers. "Best case scenario is that its dormant."
"Worst case scenario," Anko finishes grimly, because she's a shinobi and she can't not take this to its worst possible outcome. "He knows everything I know."
Working, scraping her way up to where she is. The Intelligence Division because getting stronger makes them afraid. Every scrap of information -
"Son of a bitch," she repeats. "Sleeper agent. Fuck."
She didn't need to be. Not if not being one was more successful.
Anko breathes out, fighting to regain her calm. He wasn't going to win. She wouldn't let him. "Alright," she says, looking Inoichi in the eye. "Let's do this."
Takes place sometime after the Sasuke Retrieval Arc.
Yes, I'm still working on the next chapter. :)