Chapter 5

It was harder to say goodnight to Anko than it was the night before; much harder. Ibiki realized as he waved goodbye to her from the doorway of his apartment that he would need her to move in soon. He could only imagine the feeling of separation would get worse. By the time she moved in, it would probably feel like tearing his arm off every time she left.

Ibiki retreated inside his apartment once she was out of sight. It seemed frighteningly empty without her. He padded to the back of his apartment and got ready for bed, then climbed in.

He drifted off mercifully quickly.

xXx

"Biki-chan, ring ring."

Ibiki opened his eyes.

Anko was peering over him. "It's me, your alarm clock."

"I don't have an alarm clock." Ibiki lifted his head and threw his pillow at her.

She shrieked with delight and threw it back. The ensuing pillow fight woke him up properly, and mangled one of his pillows.

They both stared at it for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"I'll pay for it," Anko said.

"No, it's okay." Ibiki hauled himself out of bed. "You get breakfast ready, and I'll put my teeth in."

Anko cracked up again. "No way. You're not wearing 'em? I didn't notice."

"I take them out every night," Ibiki said mildly. "How else are they supposed to get clean?" He padded to the bathroom, prepared his dentures, and put them in. He came out and grinned at her. "Ta-da."

Anko shook her head, smiling. "It doesn't scare me that you have removable teeth, silly. I wouldn't care if you had a removable leg." She winked. "I'd just take it for a walk every now and then."

Ibiki snorted. "Funny, Anko."

"I thought so." Anko popped out of the room, headed for the kitchen.

Ibiki got dressed.

The new day had begun, confirmed by the time showing on his digital clock. He could feel the lightness of the morning sun in the quality of the air, his body's instinctive awareness of time cycles. He felt refreshed by the promise of Anko and breakfast and a long day of working together.

Maybe we'll even go on a date again. Ibiki laughed at himself and got ready for work, shaving carefully before he went out to the kitchen to join Anko for breakfast. He didn't want her making fun of him for missing a spot or nicking himself.

Anko folded natto and dried fish into the omelets, and it was good. Ibiki savored every bite, pausing after every mouthful.

"You'll be late to work if you eat like that," Anko teased.

"It's good," Ibiki protested.

"I'll make it for you every day if you want," Anko said. "It's my invention: the Anko Omelet!"

"I love it," Ibiki said. He paused, thinking of last night. "And I love you."

She leaned forward, grinning, and touched their noses together. "I love you, too, Biki."

Ibiki wondered if it could possibly stay this good. If it did, he might end up a married man like Yamanaka. That would turn people's heads: him and Anko getting married. People would probably have nightmares.

He chuckled to himself.

"What's so funny?" Anko asked.

"Nothing." Ibiki grinned innocently. "I'm just happy. It's a happy chuckle."

"Don't let that get around the office," Anko teased.

"I know," Ibiki said. "Me being happy would ruin my reputation forever." He stood and pulled her into his arms, hugging her. "I love having my reputation ruined by a beautiful woman."

Anko looked up at him with narrowed eyes, grinning. "Mm. Just make sure it's me who's doing all the reputation ruining."

Ibiki kissed her. "I'd never let anyone else get near me. I want my reputation to be ruined by the best."

Anko giggled. "Biki, cute."

He grinned. She was the only person in the entire world who could call him cute and mean it. But then, he only needed one.

xXx

Work was hard. He had to step in on an interrogation, because Shinobu couldn't make his man crack. It was understandable; the man was a chunin who had killed three people in cold blood, his wife, his mother-in-law, and his wife's sister. He was a textbook sociopath who'd just snapped after one too many disagreements. Ibiki wove a careful net with his words, and after three hours, he got a confession.

Then, the latest ANBU report came in from Ishigakure, and he had to analyze it. The village was small, but well-defended, and their political relationship with both Iwa and Suna was not well-known. They kept to themselves, and that was what made ninja villages dangerous. Kusa was almost as bad, with their slimy diplomacy covering any and every move they made.

Tsunade sent her lackeys Izumo and Kotetsu to inform him she wanted an analysis on the current Ishigakure situation by the end of the day, so Ibiki had to put everything else on the back burner and churn through the oppressively detailed ANBU report as quickly as possible.

He called in Anko to debate with and read to, and together, they composed a bullet point list of the most important findings. He sent her off to deliver the summary to Tsunade, and when she returned, they finally clocked off together.

Stumbling out into the overcast, windy evening was like being thrown onto the face of another planet. Ibiki needed a moment to get his bearings before heading towards his apartment.

"What are we going to do tonight?" Anko asked, looking at him in concern.

"I just want to go home." Ibiki felt bad at the admission. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. I don't mean to be disappointing. I'm just…tired." He wouldn't make that admission to anyone but her.

"Then let's spend an evening in," Anko said. She took his arm gently. "We don't have to go anyplace fancy. Just home is enough. And I can cook you a meal. Maybe we can even take a shower together and lie down."

Ibiki was not quite ready for that level of intimacy. "If we take a shower, we're doing it separately."

"Darn," Anko said, chuckling.

That brought a smile to Ibiki's face. "But I don't object to the lying down part. That sounds like it could be nice."

Anko leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He kissed her lips in return, lightly.

Anko blushed. "Sounds good to me, Biki. You need some lovin'."

Ibiki sighed and felt some of his muscles unknot at the idea of Anko possibly massaging his shoulders. That wasn't out of bounds for a couple, right? "Today was difficult, wasn't it?"

Anko nodded. "But not every day can be like this. So buck up, Biki. Tomorrow it'll probably be a light load at the office."

"I hope so," Ibiki muttered. "Now I'm behind. Thanks to those ANBU assholes who mark every time they pick their nose."

Anko snorted. "Biki. They didn't go that far." She paused. "But they did note all their bowel movements. Yuck."

"At least they didn't say what was in them," Ibiki said. "Thank god for small mercies."

xXx

Anko made an excellent beef teriyaki with plenty of crunchy vegetables.

"I'm being spoiled," he protested.

"Sooner spoiled than neglected," Anko said seriously. "There's been enough of that. I'm just here to make up for it."

Ibiki's smile faded. He looked down at his food uncertainly, feeling self-conscious. I'm not…neglected… Except, when he thought about it longer than ten seconds, he knew that Anko was right. His parents dying right after he passed the Chunin Exam, leaving him a full-fledged shinobi and Idate's legal guardian…working long hours, trying to keep his brother out of trouble, losing his brother the way that he did… "I don't need special treatment," he said finally, wondering who he was arguing with.

"It doesn't need to be special, just nice," Anko said. She slapped another scoop of meat and vegetables on top of his rice. "Have some more supper."

"Anko…" Ibiki blushed. He didn't know how to explain to her what she was doing to him. Tearing down my defenses, he realized vaguely. The hands had been it. His first real defense against intrusion. Everything before that had been him willingly yielding to Anko's unexpected attention. Well, mostly. Okay, it had been uncomfortable, about as uncomfortable as his silence while he contemplated what was happening to him.

The relief of finally having someone to care about had lured him in. Especially since it was Anko. Apricot child. Ibiki sighed. That was oddly fitting. She had been sweet, low-hanging fruit, tantalizing and – so he'd thought – out of reach. "What do I give back?" he mumbled.

"Huh?" Anko's serving spoon slipped, dumping her own second helping back in the wok instead of on her plate.

"If you're taking care of me, what am I doing?" Ibiki asked. "What do I give back, so that you don't leave?"

"Lots of stuff," Anko said seriously.

Ibiki bit his tongue when he realized the utter insecurity of his question. "Alright."

Anko watched him with sad eyes.

Ibiki dug into his teriyaki and vegetables.

After a few moments, his indulgence satisfied her.

When they finished eating dinner, Ibiki rose from the table, picking up his plate and hers.

"Whatcha doing?" Anko asked.

"That was very good," Ibiki said quietly. "In return, I think I'll do the dishes."

"Oh, good," Anko said. She made a face. "I hate the dishes. I love cooking, but I hate doing the dishes." She followed him over the sink while he cleared the table and then hugged him from behind, snuggling against his back the entire time he washed dishes and set them in the drain board.

Ibiki was bemused by this, but he didn't mind. Anko's steady stream of affection made him feel warm. Especially her need to be physically affectionate.

After separate showers, during which Ibiki made Anko promise not to peek, they ended up in clean clothing, him in his much-neglected civilian wear and her swaddled up in his oversized black t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants with the strings tied as tight as they would go. She looked ridiculous, and seemed remarkably happy doing it.

"I think this is going to be mine from now on," Anko said, touching the collar of her borrowed shirt before flopping down on the bed beside him.

Ibiki had to chuckle. "Whatever you want."

Anko snuggled up to him. "Mmm. I want." She raised a hand and stroked his chest, then hooked one leg over his.

"Not that," Ibiki said. He flushed. "This is only our third date. We've got two more to go."

Anko shifted, propping herself up against his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. "Then by Saturday."

Ibiki rolled his eyes. "What is it with you?"

"I love you," Anko said.

"I know that," Ibiki said. "And I love you, too." He kissed her lips lightly. "That doesn't explain your carnal urges."

Anko laughed. "If you want to talk about my carnal urges, I'll tell you all about them."

"No, thank you," Ibiki said.

"Aww…" Anko pouted.

"That kind of talk is best reserved for when we're actually going to do it," Ibiki said. "Otherwise, you'll get all excited and want to try it. I'm still not ready for that."

"I understand, Biki," Anko said. She reached up and touched his bandana. "You know you don't have to wear that."

"My head will get cold," Ibiki said.

Anko smiled mischievously. "I'll keep your head warm with my hands. Come on. Put your head in my lap. I'll give you a nice massage."

Ibiki was too amused at the idea not to agree. "Alright. Just don't press too hard on certain spots. I'm sure you'll be able to see what I mean."

"I'll be careful." Anko gave him a wide-eyed look full of sincerity that was enough to melt the hardest heart.

They shifted accordingly. Anko sat up against the headboard with a pillow behind her back, and another pillow across her lap. Ibiki laid his head on her lap and sprawled out across the bed diagonally. After a few moments, he decided that lying on his back was the most comfortable, and settled down permanently.

Anko took off his bandana with gentle fingers and stroked over his scalp with both hands.

Ibiki shivered, and a hum purred in the back of his throat, unbidden.

Anko stifled a giggle and smiled at him. "No one ever touches you here, do they?"

"No," Ibiki said. "Too repulsed, I think. Even the med nins don't bother. The screw holes, and the scars…it's messy up there. I don't think anyone really wants to know how I got them." He shook his head slightly.

"Tell me about each and every one of them," Anko said. "I want to know."

"Do you really want to know all of this stuff?" Ibiki asked. He was afraid he'd unintentionally issued her a challenge.

Anko stroked his head with her fingertips. "Mm-hmm."

Ibiki sighed. He couldn't deny that lying with his head in her lap was comfortable, and the petting was pleasant. And he supposed in terms of his mental health it was supposed to be healthy to confide in people. 'Don't keep it all inside', and all that.

"It was an attempt to dehumanize me," Ibiki said. He glanced up at her calmly. "The physical stuff didn't happen first. First, they made me good and crazy…and then they hurt me."

Anko stroked his cheek. "You weren't crazy, Biki."

"No?"

"Uh-uh." She shook her head. "Not even once."

"I'm glad that you think that," Ibiki murmured. He smiled. "Because I was pretty awfully crazy."

Anko tapped his head with a scolding pout.

He rolled his eyes. "Come on. Laughing Academy stuff. I'm serious." He chuckled at her expression. "It was terrible. I was disoriented all the time. And I fractured into like…" He frowned. It was hard to recall after all this time. And he considered the memory fuzziness a good thing. He didn't want to remember that period in his life too clearly. He just wanted to be glad that it was over. "Five different psyches."

"Five different psyches?" Anko asked, seeming confused.

"Personalities," Ibiki said. "Or identities. It's hard to tell. The terminology's a little different nowadays. They're still refining their research. It used to be called having multiple personalities."

"Oh." She stroked his head, looking sad. "So you got all broken up inside."

"It's really rare," Ibiki said. "Especially in grown men. They said I must have been trying really hard not to give up any information. I went into hiding, even inside of myself. Instead of going catatonic or something, which would have given them free reign to do whatever they wanted with my body, I just created a lot of different identities for myself and convinced myself in each case that I was that person." He paused. "That's the basic theory the psych nins put forth, anyway. That I used my undercover training and a lot of psychological desperation to split myself up and go into hiding."

"That sounds smart," Anko said in a tiny voice.

"Are you okay?" Ibiki asked. "You don't have to hear about it if you don't want to."

Anko shook her head, her gaze falling on him again. "I don't want you to stop. Tell me, Biki. Tell me all about what it was like."

"Well, it was like it was confusing," Ibiki said wryly. "I lost time. Lots of it. That means the blank spots you don't consciously surface as yourself. You hide yourself way deep down, and it's like you're asleep. It can last months or even years before some personalities emerge again. And then it's like a different person wakes up. The different parts of your consciousness all have their separate awareness of time and what's going on. They'll remember the last time they surfaced, but maybe not anything after. It's like compartmentalizing everything."

Anko caressed his cheek. "When did you wake up, Biki? Right after you got taken home? Or was it sometime after?"

"'I' woke up after all of the surgery was already done," Ibiki said. He remembered that well: finding himself staring at the ceiling in a hospital room, wondering why it was so hard to move. "So, three months. I was three months into my recovery when I finally woke up. The last thing I remembered had been week five of my imprisonment. That was when I shattered, apparently. The first time. The theory is that the personalities multiply dependent on the needs of the person. So if it was too difficult to handle for me, then I became someone else. And then, theoretically, if the task got too difficult for that person, my mind would create a new person to handle some of the abuse. And so on. Until I ended up with like five personalities."

He sighed. "I know they're really all me, though. I know that, now. I'm not going to…switch around, or whatever they call that. I'm me again."

Anko touched his head with new interest, looking a little hesitant. "So you have five other people inside of you; here."

Ibiki smiled wearily and took her hand. "Let's not talk about this anymore, Anko. I can see it's getting hard."

"Just because it's hard doesn't mean I don't wanna do it." Anko pouted at him. "I want to know everything about you, Biki. Everything there is to know."

Ibiki sighed. Against his better judgment, he decided to let the conversation go on a little longer. He squeezed her hand and released it. "Alright." He made a halfhearted joke. "But remember that means there are five extra people to get to know, now that you've opened this line of questioning."

Anko grinned and kissed his temple. "Yeah. Who are they?"

Ibiki rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "I have a feeling I'm not supposed to remember these things, but what the hell. One of them is a samurai from the Land of Iron. Another of them is a nin from Sand." He shrugged. "They're all like that. All different. I guess it makes sense. What would be the point in being the same person over and over?"

Anko nodded. She looked at him sympathetically and started petting his head again.

Ibiki cleared his throat. "One of them is a little boy. He's like me when I was little or something." He shrugged uncomfortably. Then he snuck Anko a small grin. "One of them's a woman."

Anko laughed. "You, a woman? That's rich."

Ibiki laughed, too. "I know, right? A big, strong woman. I'm not even kidding, here. She had long silver hair, and get this: she's Jiraiya's sister. I actually thought I was Jiraiya's sister for a while there. His big sister. How crazy is that?"

Anko was in stitches. She was laughing her head off. "No way…That's scary. Jiraiya's big sister would be so scary."

"She was," Ibiki agreed. "Or is. I can never tell with these people I was supposed to have been. They might still be knocking around in my head somewhere. But I probably confused the hell out of the interrogators with that one."

Anko was still giggling. "What about the last one? You said there were five."

Ibiki flushed slightly. "A prince," he muttered.

Anko was confused. "What?"

"A prince." Ibiki felt embarrassed to a terrible degree. "Like a Daimyo's son. I, ah, apparently, thought I was the Rice Daimyo's only son. He has four daughters – in real life, I mean, as I'm sure you are aware. Apparently, I thought I was his youngest and only son for a while there. On and off. Among the other personalities."

Anko stroked his head and looked at him in concern. "How come that one embarrasses you so much? I think you'd make a great prince. Prince Biki." She kissed his forehead. "I like it. I'm going to call you that from now on."

"Please don't," Ibiki groaned.

"You can call me Princess Anko," she offered.

Ibiki laughed. "I could call you that anyway, without you giving me the embarrassing nickname in return. Anko-hime."

Anko grinned. "Royalty, huh? Or maybe just a really important clan member. Like Tsunade-hime."

Ibiki took her hand and squeezed it. "Well, you're my princess."

Anko shifted position and flopped down on him, snuggling. "You're so romantic, you know that? You really are."

"So you tell me," Ibiki said.

"It's true." She curled up against him and went to sleep.

He didn't have the heart to disturb her.

The truth was, he was a lot more scared about his brush with multiple personality disorder than he let on, but he didn't want her to worry. He didn't want her to worry about anything. Least of all me.

Ibiki kissed the top of her head. Her hair was still damp from her shower.