The Unsung Story of the Inconspicuous

A/N: You know who I'm going to thank- the grossly overworking Vanya Starwind, (I'll try to keep it to one chapter a day ((I'm lying)).

I do not own Naruto or any of its characters or affiliates.


Raiku made her way downtown with easily feigned nonchalance- the freedom granted by a secure alibi infiltrating her natural wariness. The artificial light cast the streets in warm yellow glow, interrupted by deep shadows that other shinobi periodically occupied. The still busy streets were filled with mostly chuunin relieved from duty with the setting of the sun and civilians hoping to catch their attention, the smells of cooking and sounds of easy conversation permeating the air.

Distantly, Raiku hoped this Mura would come home willingly. It was a nice night, and the summer heat was split by a pleasant breeze for the first time in weeks. To end a nice night on a sour note like that would be… regrettable.

She fished around in her pocket for the address, pulling the wrinkled piece of paper out and double-checking the contents. Her eyes flicked to the apartment building across the street from her, dotted with advertisements and vague remnants of graffiti. She tilted her head curiously, the paper crushed into her pocket once more. This was what she'd expected in terms of budget, but not location. It was rare for a Gairano, even a Plot Abuser, to choose an area so densely populated. It made them nervous and easier to pick off, since they were usually such solitary creatures.

She had no reason to be nervous. A-motives had a specific script, even, that usually could be used with reasonably consistent effectiveness. If she stuck to it, she'd be fine.

Someone brushed past her impatiently, carrying a laden tray towards a table. She began to apologise out of reflex, and realised it would draw more attention to her than not doing so. She looked down at herself. A black latex mask stretched up from the ANBU style shirt she'd worn most of her life, her arms covered with sleeves of the same colour sewn on as an afterthought. Her hands were gloved, her forehead covered with the Konoha protector. Her dark grey pants reached her knees and the rest of her was covered in identical black fabric- she cringed in sudden understanding.

She looked like an ANBU.

And if there was one thing ANBU certainly didn't do, it was stand in the middle of a downtown street and apologise.

She squared her shoulders, resolved to buy some red socks or something colourful, and crossed the street towards the intercom. Her target was situated on the third floor, made obvious by the glaring lack of a label on the corresponding button- no one wanted the Equalisers to have an easy job. No one liked Equalisers, especially not the Equalisers themselves. Where did they even come from? But no, she was getting off-target. She assumed a worried expression, shoulders slumping, adopting the persona of a stressed shinobi. A stressed shinobi who had locked themselves out- frying the lock in the middle of a public street would be an incredibly bad idea. That and there was always the chance the lock would melt closed.

It took twenty minutes for an opportunity to present itself, in the form of a woman whose determined if unsteady path painted a line of intent to the apartment complex door. 'Excuse me,' she said cheerfully to the woman in question, who was currently struggling to juggle both groceries and her keys, recognising the skewed path for what it was. 'Would you like some help, miss?'

Hidden behind brown grocery bags, there was an audible pause. 'Sure,' the woman said eventually, fingers straining to hold out her keys without dropping anything.

Raiku accepted them and quickly unlocked the door, stepping inside casually to hold it open for her. 'Are you sure you wouldn't like me to carry anything for you?'

'No, thank you,' the woman said with strangely reluctant gratitude.

Maybe a shirt that says "genin" on it, Raiku thought wearily. Maybe that'll do the trick.

'Have a nice night then!' she said instead, creasing her eyes happily and moving towards the door. The woman awkwardly made her way up the steps, failing to notice Raiku simply stepping under the second flight of stairs as the door closed. Raiku waited until both the rustling of paper and the footsteps disappeared with the click of a lock and some mild cursing, leaning out to look up the stairwell. There were six floors in total, and no sight or sound of a tenant at the current.

She padded casually up the stairs, frame purposefully relaxed. Walk, she knew. Walk, not run. If you look like you have the right to be there, people will assume you do, as time had proven for her.

As she rounded the corner to the stairs leading to the third floor, she absently tugged a glove off with her teeth, flexing her bare fingers in the warm air in preparation. She reached the top and scanned the doors, quickly finding the one she sought and approaching with a deceptive sense of entitlement. She cast a casual glance in either direction in front of the plain wooden door, reaching out with to press bar fingertips to the door. Metal was a superior conductor to wood, and after a moment, there was a distinct crack from within the frame.

Whistling quietly, she tugged the door open and slid it closed behind her, leaving her in the dim apartment. The open windows overlooking the street allowed the light of the streetlamps and storefronts to filter into the dark, illuminating a sparse apartment.

Raiku raised an eyebrow, dispassionate eyes scanning over the simple furniture. There were very few personal touches, she noted as she once again pulled on her glove, sparks leaping unhappily from the skin in protest. She absently traced a gloved finger over a framed picture sitting on top of a bookshelf as she passed, the photo within one of a handsome brunette man in his twenties, chewing on a senbon with an arm slung casually over the shoulder of a lovely woman with solemn grey eyes.

She supposed that was Shiranui Genma in the photo there with Gairano Mura.

Her eyes took in the glowing red display of a digital clock as she settled into a vaguely uncomfortable chair facing the door. 6 o'clock came and went as she sat there in the dark, purposefully not thinking about anything, especially not about the unpleasant feeling churning in her stomach.

She hated A-Motives.

She didn't know why, but something about them grabbed something in her chest and twisted painfully, leaving her with a strange, foreign sensation in the aftermath.

The clock told her it was nearing 7 o'clock when Gairano Mura finally came home. She was still laughing as she stumbled in through the door, slipping her shoes off so quickly she almost stumbled as she tried to do both that and find the light switch at the same time. Her face was lit up with joy until the exact moment she saw Raiku sitting directly across from her.

The happiness bled from her face.

Raiku creased her eyes in a cheerful, friendly manner, gesturing with a black clad hand to a seat placed near her own. 'Hello. May I speak with you?'

Mura stared at her, face ashen and hands beginning to shake. Raiku tilted her head in question, eyes still creased into that fake smile. 'Please, sit,' she repeated, as though it were her home and Mura a reluctant guest. It may as well have been true: as the current representative of the Gairano family and all the unpleasant extensions it involved itself with, Raiku was by far the senior in power in the situation, even if she was bluffing desperately.

Shaking, movements jerky, Mura made her way over to the chair in question, hands smoothing her pants in what seemed to be a nervous habit. Raiku allowed her eyes to flick over the older woman's slightly rumpled clothes. She looked nice, she reflected, in a dark grey shirt and simple skirt. Elegant, even.

'Mura, our family has sent me to see you,' she said pleasantly, folding her hands in her lap. Mura nodded weakly, eyes wide and unblinking. 'They want to know why you've broken the rules.'

The woman stared at her mutely, and something in her eyes pleaded with Raiku. But Raiku was only twelve, and hadn't experienced anything that Mura had betrayed the family for. Her blue eyes stared at her with only mild, dispassionate curiosity.

'Mura?' Raiku prompted gently, seeing she had no intention of answering. The other woman jerked almost violently, shaken out of some internal thought process. 'I just…' she began falteringly, then stopped. To Raiku's supreme horror, her eyes grew shiny with tears. The script did not mention how horrifying feelings were.

Raiku felt there was a point of clarification necessary here. 'Mura-san, I am not an Equaliser,' she said quietly, trying to get things back on track.

Mura cracked under the pressure of her own relief. 'Thank you,' she whispered, burying her face in her hands. 'Thank you.'

Raiku didn't feel that not killing someone was something to be thanked for. She cleared her throat awkwardly, wanting to speed things along. She'd been sent on jobs exactly like this for people closer to her own age many times before- teens were repeat offenders, but this was evidently some kind of test, and she didn't intend to fail.

'Mura...'

Mura nodded into her hands, wiping her eyes roughly. 'You'll get sick of it,' she forced out, voice thick with some emotion Raiku didn't recognise. 'You'll get sick of denying everything. You'll get sick of watching the people you want to be with thrown into Plots and coming out so damn happy.'

She looked up at last, eyes red. 'And you know what?' she asked, perilously close to tears again already. 'Some people don't get Plots. And they spend all their lives looking for them and looking for what we spend all our time avoiding! They know they're missing something and they try and fill the gap with everything that doesn't fit!'

Raiku tilted her head in the opposite direction. 'You're referring to Shiranui Genma?'

Mura flinched. Raiku wondered if it was the sound of that man's name coming from a representative of Gairano.

'Yes,' she managed eventually, fingers twisting themselves in her lap. The only response she could read on Raiku's face was the sudden blink. 'You seized a Plot in order to become the Love Interest of Shiranui Genma?' the girl reiterated.

'Yes,' Mura repeated quietly.

'You did this out of… compassion?' Raiku pressed on with casual insensitivity, mostly because she didn't believe it for a second. Her nausea was morphing into something more unpleasant, but just as unsettling.

'Yes.'

Raiku nodded. 'I see.' She leant forward, brilliant eyes searching Mura's intently. 'You know you have to come home,' she said with quiet earnest. 'You know we can't let you twist things.'

'Please,' Mura asked. 'Please just let me have this one thing. He deserves it!' she added in sudden, unexpected conviction.

'That isn't for you to decide,' Raiku said simply. 'If you come home, he'll be fine. If you don't, he'll miss a loved one when the Equalisers come after you.'

'Isn't it better to have loved and lost?' Mura offered her, but Raiku recognised the signs of a woman about to crack.

'He can't miss what hasn't happened yet,' she responded, but-

'That's a lie!' Mura spat, throwing an arm out in passionate gesticulation. 'You know that's a lie! You just spend your life searching for anything that'll take the place of what you miss!'

'Mura, you have to come home,' Raiku said firmly, easily evading the flailing arm. 'This won't help anything.'

'If you take me away he'll never find someone else!' Mura exclaimed, voice pleading with her.

'That's not your role,' Raiku explained, reading from the script in her head. 'Mura, you must come home with me or you will die.'

Mura flinched again.

Ruthlessly Raiku pressed on, sensing weakness but also feeling a surge of genuine anger, just for a moment. 'You've stolen a Plot in order to fulfill your own goals. What he'll experience is not love. It's narrative obligation. You're taking away his free will.'

All Plots did. But there was no possible excuse for one of them to do the same.

Abruptly, her eyes creased to indicate an inappropriately sweet smile. 'So shall we go home, Mura?'

The woman just looked at her for a while, and Raiku found herself with the opportunity to actually observe the fight going out of someone's eyes.

'I need time to pack,' Mura said after the extended silence, dropping her gaze.

Raiku nodded, standing in a movement so sudden Mura almost threw herself back onto the ground, chair and all. 'I'll see you at home, Mura-san! You should return by midnight, so you have plenty of time to notify the family,' Raiku said with newfound cheer, dusting off her hands. 'You will be reimbursed for the lock,' she added as she padded towards the door. Her stomach rumbled only once she had reached the safety of the stairwell, reminding her in no uncertain terms that it was still in control around here and it wanted a raise.

She sighed, stretching out the kinks in her neck and rubbing the back of her head awkwardly. She hated A-Motives.

They were always so earnest.

Three flights of stairs later she pushed open the door, once again finding herself in the middle of a busy downtown street. As laughter reached her ears, she looked around for somewhere to eat. But genin weren't exactly sources of wealth, and she found herself grimacing in pain at the sight of the prices within immediate visual range.

It was starting to look like it was instant miso again.

She hung her head sheepishly. It had been a tragically interesting couple of weeks, she should at least be able to eat out. But no, nothing like that for Raiku.

She put her hands in her pockets to dissuade enterprising pickpockets and made her way through the crowds and bustling streets, mourning the inaccessibility of the delicious food surrounding her.

If she noticed a man with brown hair and a senbon hanging from his lips sitting alone and waiting for someone for someone who wasn't coming, she gave no indication. Raiku just kept to her path out of the busy downtown, and wondered why there was something at the back of her mind that stung.