Chapter 7

The sushi restaurant was a bright, happy sort of place frequented by the younger people. Ibiki should have known that it would be like that; Anko picked it. The restaurant was decorated with photographs of artfully arranged sushi, big, square pictures on semi-translucent white glass lit up from the back side. The booths were all honey-blonde wood, and the restaurant workers cheerfully prepared sushi in full view of the customers, rolling and chopping and garnishing inside of a central booth lined with clean white counters.

Ibiki knew logically this was the kind of place that should make him feel out of place and unwelcome. Somehow, with Anko's hand to hold onto and squeeze, he was alright. He felt oddly at peace, even though it was brightly lit and happy and bustling with people who probably knew him as That Scary Chunin Exam Proctor.

He chuckled to himself. They probably know Anko only as That Feisty Chunin Exam Lady. We're even.

"What're you laughing at?" Anko glanced at him, narrowing her eyes in playful suspicion.

"Youth," Ibiki explained. He gestured vaguely with the hand not holding onto Anko's. "Just youth. They're all so young and fresh-faced, and they haven't really begun to live yet."

Anko led him to a seat in the center section, right behind the sushi preparation booth. Ibiki could tell it was the back of the booth because bins of product and supplies were stacked in the way of the view. Ibiki didn't mind; it was like having a little extra privacy. He sat down and relaxed against the bench seat. With Anko across from him, he didn't have to worry about anything.

No one seemed to notice them, anyway; every little group was absorbed in themselves, their senses not ranging beyond the table they sat at with their friends, family, or co-workers. Possibly, like him and Anko, their date.

"This is the society we created," Ibiki continued, glancing around the restaurant with a small smile. "I'm glad. We worked hard to make this situation possible: for students to graduate as twelve-year-olds, for training not to be so brutal, for there to be families and hope and good things in life. Even if I'm part of the underbelly of this society, I'm glad I help keep it clean. It's important to me; someone ought to enjoy the fruits of my labor."

"I never thought of it that way," Anko said quietly, looking humbled. "I get so wrapped up in my own ways. To be honest with you, if I didn't have fun, I wouldn't care either way whether someone else was suffering. I did my own suffering. It's time for me and others like me to have fun. We deserve some of the good things we helped bring about."

"And that's valid, too," Ibiki said, gazing across the table at her with affection. "You've helped me see that. I am entitled to a tiny piece of the results of my hard labor. I should be able to go to a place like this and enjoy myself. I am free; I am free to do as I please, after all. I am not a caged bird who lives in the underground of the Intelligence Division. I only work there. And that ought to be good enough for anybody. I don't have to be there. I could take my retirement money and leave now. Leave today. But I won't, because I love my country. And I know that nobody could replace me. Not right away. So I would be leaving a major hole in our defenses. That's enough to make me want to stay." He gestured. "But I get to be out here, too, and that's important."

Anko smiled at him, a small, proud, almost motherly smile. "I love you, Biki."

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I love you, too. Anko-hime. You're my apricot princess."

Anko flushed terribly, drowning her delicate complexion in a sea of mottled red.

Ibiki laughed. "You're cute when you do that."

Anko pouted, but she didn't let go of his hand, and she didn't get annoyed.

After a few minutes, both of them collected themselves, and availed themselves of the laminated menus waiting in a clear plastic stand on the table.

"What do you think of number seventeen?" Ibiki asked.

"Hmm?"

"The Konoha Roll?"

"It's okay but it's nothing special. It's more for tourists than us."

"Oh."

Anko looked up at him hastily, lowering her menu. "I didn't mean you shouldn't get it if you want. It's tasty. It's just cooked, and I don't like cooked sushi as much as I like the raw. The raw stuff tastes better. At least to me."

Ibiki smiled at her. "I think I'll try baked sushi and raw sushi this time around. I haven't had much of either in many years, and I think I miss them both."

"Go for it!" Anko looked anxious that he take her encouragement seriously.

"I will." Ibiki pulled out a waiting sushi card from a dispenser, along with a little pencil, and marked down one Konoha Roll on his order.

Anko relaxed, relieved. "I really didn't want to mess things up for you by swaying your opinion. I'm bad like that. Some people say I come on too strong; about everything."

"I'm not like that," Ibiki said, amused. "You can't come on too strong. You can only come on strong enough. I'm a thickheaded sort of person, and if you weren't so ballsy and out there all the time, asking to do this and do that and getting in my face, I wouldn't notice you at all. You saw how hard you had to work just to get my attention that first time, in the break room." Had that really happened earlier this week? Ibiki felt like he had been dating Anko for ages; and he loved it. He wondered why he hadn't done it before, and what he had been doing with his life. Clearly, nothing. Anko fit into the waiting slot he'd apparently had open, alleviating his emptiness and giving his life purpose again. Beyond being the interrogator, the T&I specialist, the boss. Those were all good roles, and necessary, but nothing felt like this.

Ibiki took in a deep breath, smelling fried sushi and the sweetness of properly prepared sashimi. It felt great; being out here and about and accompanied by a sweet, beautiful young woman who loved him to bits. He felt amazing.

Never again would he question why Kakashi read Icha Icha. He thought at least part of the plots must be like this – and everybody needed some of this in their lives, even if it was just fantasy, like a story in a book.

While they decided what to eat, Ibiki let his mind drift back to his visit to Anko's apartment complex. She had scurried down the hall hurriedly, as if she wasn't welcome there. And there was a particular door she seemed afraid of or upset about. Nervous.

"So, what's in number eight?" Ibiki asked casually.

Anko checked the menu.

Ibiki snorted and rolled his eyes. "No, I mean, the apartment."

Anko jerked, her back straightening. Surprise turned to dismay. She grimaced at him and leaned forward, hissing across the table, "An old lady. She hates me."

Ibiki was bemused by the idea of Anko being afraid of an old woman. "A Baa-chan? What's so scary about a Baa-chan?"

Anko shook her head decisively. "This ain't no Baa-chan, Ibiki. This is an Obaasama." She nodded, wide-eyed. "Take it from me. You do not want to cross that old lady."

"Why is she so hard on you?" Ibiki asked.

Anko's voice lowered to that furtive hiss again. Amazingly, her cheeks were tinged with embarrassment. "She thinks I don't wear a bra."

Ibiki started laughing and had to stop himself or choke. Her answer had taken him by such surprise that he inhaled wrong on his own spit. He cleared his throat, swallowed, and tried to wipe his smile away with one gloved hand. "I'm sorry."

"I can't stand her!" Anko squirmed. "She always thinks I've done something wrong! Why doesn't she mind her own business?" Her protest was almost a wail.

Ibiki saw how easily tortured Anko had been by this woman. "It's alright," he said soothingly. "You're moving in with me now, and that means you can get away from her. For good. Forever. I promise you'll never have to see her again – not unless she commits a crime. In which case, I'll let you take the first crack at her."

Anko grinned her sadistic I'm-getting-out-my-dentistry-tools smile, and she giggled.

Ibiki was glad to have cheered her up. Nasty old ladies shouldn't be able to get his Anko down.

Suddenly, something caught Anko's attention, and she just about bolted out of her seat. Ibiki looked around quickly and found nothing threatening or ominous. But someone new was threading his way through the busy restaurant.

"Oh! Iruka! Over here!" Anko waved her hand wildly, squirming in her seat. "Ruka-chan!"

Iruka looked around wildly until he saw her. Then his mouth fell open, and he pointed at her. "Anko-san!" He waved, smiling. "Hello!"

A girl emerged by Iruka's side, stepping out of the way of another customer.

"Pink-Hair!" Anko yelled immediately.

Sakura looked around. "Who, me?"

Iruka laid a hand on Sakura's shoulder and was already herding Sakura gently towards Anko and Ibiki's table.

"Yeah, you," Anko said. "How many people have pink hair?"

Sakura blushed. "What? What do you want?"

She and Iruka came to stand at Anko's side of the booth.

"I saw you at the Chunin Exam. You were on the team with that brave idiot," Anko said. "Right, right? Weren't you?" She grinned. "I never forget a face. Especially not one with pink hair."

Sakura looked embarrassed. "Yeah…" She looked up at Iruka.

"Oh!" Iruka placed a hand on Sakura's shoulder again. "Anko-san, this is Haruno Sakura."

"Ah, yeah!" Anko beamed. "That's right, that's your name." Then it visibly processed. "Oh, wait…Aren't you Tsunade's new apprentice or something?"

Sakura straightened proudly. "Yeah."

"Cool. That makes us like sisters or something," Anko said.

"Sisters?" Sakura tilted her head in confusion.

Anko studied her fingernails casually. "Cause, you know, I was trained by another Sannin…"

"Jiraiya?" Sakura guessed.

Ibiki wondered if he should say anything. This was kind of painful.

"Nah…" Anko glanced away. "The snakey one."

Sakura's jaw dropped. "You were trained by Orochimaru? I didn't know he had any students at all!"

"Yeah…it was kind of before the whole…evil experiments thing came to light." Anko coughed. "You know…when he was supposed to be one of the good guys." She added quickly, "I didn't know anything about those experiments. He kept it on the down-low. I swear. I was like, ten. Nine. Nine and a half."

Sakura nodded slowly. "I don't think you'd still be in the village if you had anything to do with it, would you? I mean, Sandaime exiled Orochimaru and the people that were involved. The body suppliers and stuff, who knew they were working with Orochimaru to refine forbidden jutsu."

Anko relaxed and beamed up at Iruka. "What a bright student you've got."

Iruka blushed. "W-Well, she's really more like Tsunade-sama's student now, I've taught her all I know how to give." He squeezed Sakura's shoulder. "But yes. I am very proud of her."

"Isn't he handsome?" Anko said to Sakura. "Especially when he's blushing."

Iruka flushed deeper.

"I'm thirteen," Sakura said.

"So…what?" Anko looked from Sakura to Iruka. "Does that mean he's not handsome?"

Iruka held up his hands hastily. "Sakura-chan likes someone else, Anko-san."

"Oh." Anko looked disappointed. "You need a date, Ruka-chan."

Iruka covered his face with one hand and groaned. "That's enough…" He bowed. "We'll talk to you later, Anko-san."

"Okay," Anko agreed brightly.

Iruka led Sakura to a table across the restaurant.

Anko turned to Ibiki. "They make a nice couple, don't you think?"

"You're hopeless," Ibiki said. "Stop badgering the poor man."

"He's young, attractive, and single," Anko said. "Not to mention sweet and good-hearted and brave…he needs to be taken off the market. Otherwise all the girls and boys of Konoha are going to be salivating after him forever. The suspense is worse than the conclusion, believe me, Biki. People want to know."

Ibiki held up his hands. "Hey. I am not going to gossip with you. I don't know enough to dispute your facts."

Anko grinned. "Then allow me to gossip at you."

Ibiki gestured graciously. "Be my guest."

Anko filled his ears with chatter for the rest of the meal, not pausing even when the waitress came to serve them their order. She dug into her spicy salmon roll without missing a beat, gesticulating with her chopsticks. "And then Raidou said that Genma sucks on his senbon because he's trying to kick his nicotine habit, because he and Asuma were on a team a while ago in a stressful situation, and he addicted Genma to cigarettes. Izumo said that Genma just has an oral fixation, and he could prove it, and that's when things got really interesting." She bounced in her seat and smiled brightly at him. "By the way, Biki, does this meal have any space for dango? Because I really want some dango."

"Does this place make dango?" Ibiki asked, startled.

"Yes," Anko said. "Yep. Uh-huh."

Ibiki smiled at her fondly. "Then get yourself some. I'm not concerned about meal space, or budgets, or anything like that. I just want you to be happy."

Anko melted. "Aww…Biki…" And then she had to take a napkin and dab her eyes, because she started crying. Tears silently welled up in the corners of her eyes. Ibiki watched them soak through the flimsy napkin, leaving dark, translucent splotches as they appeared against the crisp whiteness.

Ibiki was struck by the sight, and very, very glad that she was crying because of a good thing. He thought if he had to watch her cry about something bad, his heart would break.

xXx

They ended up back at his place, on his bed. He lay on his back, his head nestled on her lap, cushioned by a pillow. Anko sat up against his headboard, cross-legged and smiling down at him.

"We should do this every night," Anko said. "I like it."

"I'm not complaining," Ibiki said. He smiled up at her.

They both let the moment lapse into silence for a few moments, enjoying each other. Ibiki never thought he would experience domestic bliss, but this was definitely it. He drank it in desperately, even if outside he wanted to remain nonchalant.

The bill at the sushi place had been funnily high, and Ibiki found himself funnily able to afford it, after years of doing nothing but depositing the bulk of his paychecks in the bank.

Being the Head of T&I was definitely not most people's measure of success, but it paid well. He was the highest-paid ninja outside of ANBU, and he'd known that for years. It hadn't fazed him and hadn't colored his opinion one way or the other; it had merely meant he had more money in the bank than most that he didn't touch. Even if he quit now, he would never be hurting for money, especially since all of his medical bills were covered under job-related compensation. All his medical problems came from the field in one way or another; including, of course, his torture.

"How did this happen?" Anko asked. She ran her fingertips over his scalp, barely brushing his healed injuries.

"I thought I told you," Ibiki said mildly.

"Uh-uh," Anko said. "We got off topic. It was my fault, but still…" She caressed one of his scars, tracing it down to his left eyebrow. "And I mean these." She brushed the edge of one of the circular indentations.

Ibiki squirmed slightly. "That tickles," he informed her.

She withdrew her fingers.

Ibiki settled back down. "And in answer to your question, they are trepanning holes, left over from a trephine."

"A trephine?" Anko asked quietly.

"A trephine is a surgical instrument," Ibiki said. "It has a circular blade. Ah, excuse me, cylindrical, is what I meant. With little teeth on it, like a saw. That's what it is, really. A bone saw designed to cut through someone's skull."

Anko fell silent. She appeared to be thinking.

Ibiki watched her carefully.

"Trepanning is…cutting into someone's skull?" Anko asked.

"Trepanning is the medical process of creating a hole in someone's skull," Ibiki said. He nodded.

"Medical process," Anko said blankly. "How can this be medical?" She stroked his head. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Well, it's a little outdated," Ibiki said. He could remain calm as long as they talked in abstract terms. Impersonal. "Trepanning dates back to the ancient times, when people were first learning medicine. The idea was to let out the illness or the pain through a hole. You know, when people say they wish they could just get the headache out and make it leave? That's what trepanning was for."

"What did they use trepanning for?" Anko asked.

Ibiki didn't have to ask who 'they' were. "Trepanning has also been used in the past to treat mental illness. Though it was surely intended as torture, the inspiration came from past medical practices."

"That's sick," Anko said immediately. "I'd like to drill a hole in their heads and see how they like it."

Ibiki shifted and pulled her down with him, cradling her in his arms. "Anko-chan, it's nothing to get angry over."

"Of course it is!" Anko stopped short and looked at Ibiki with wide-eyed horror. "You mean this is the first time you've seen someone get angry over it? No one's ever gotten angry about it before?"

Ibiki looked at her helplessly. He didn't know what to say. "Of course not. Why should anyone get angry over it? It's a normal risk in the field, to be captured by the enemy and tortured. How could anyone be angry when it's expected of me to survive with my honor intact or die if I think I'm going to give up any information? It's normal. It's nothing out of the ordinary…"

Anko looked like she was going to cry in the bad way.

Ibiki's heart plummeted. "Don't cry." He stroked her cheek. "Please don't cry unless I'm being romantic. I couldn't stand for you to be in pain."

"I'm not going to cry and it is romantic," Anko whimpered, her lower lip wobbling. "You are the bravest, bravest man I've ever met, and you're selfless too, and you're wonderful, and I –" She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung tightly. "I love you!"

"I love you too," Ibiki said, bewildered. He rubbed her back, tentatively relieved that she wasn't going to cry about him for the sake of sympathy over his torture. He didn't know how he would handle that. He'd never faced it before. The sympathy he'd gotten had been professional and quickly gotten over with. Not at all the same thing as the thing Anko was offering him. He didn't think he was ready for it. He didn't know if he'd ever be. "I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," Anko protested, but with a note of distress in her voice. "I want you to be happy, too. Biki – I want you to be the happiest man alive! Do you think you can do that for me?"

Ibiki felt out of his depth, but he thought back on this past week. "I think I can, as long as you stay with me," he answered honestly, hoping that was good enough.

Anko started laughing and crying at the same time, she used his oversized black t-shirt – that she was wearing again, just like she said she would – in order to wipe away the tears, sitting up. "I'm crying in the romantic way."

Ibiki was relieved. Enormously relieved. He let out the breath he'd been holding and smiled up at her. "Then I'm alright." He reached up and stroked her arm, seeking out contact with her again. He knew that Anko sitting up was a temporary thing, but even when they were moments apart he craved her touch, the feeling of her solidity and warmth against him.

He realized he was growing needy, and he didn't want to do anything about it. Anko wasn't going anywhere, so why should he be worried at his need for physical affection? She would always be here, and she needed to get her fill as well. Her initial declaration that she wanted to approach him for the snuggles was more truthful than he'd thought. And he needed the same thing, too.

When she was finished drying her tears, Ibiki gently pulled her down to him. "Anko-hime…I am always going to be here. No one can destroy me. They tried. I can beat anything."

He kissed her gently, and when she kissed back, he felt fire kindle within him.

"Mm, Biki," she moaned.

"Not yet," he teased.

Anko pouted at him.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Good night, sweet princess."

"Good night, Prince Biki," Anko said, grinning.

Ibiki cringed. "Don't."

It was Anko's turn to chuckle. She kissed him on the cheek. "Night."

"Good night." Ibiki rolled onto his side and paused. "Do you think you could get the light?"

Anko rolled away from him and stretched out a hand. "Got it!"

Blessed darkness.

Ibiki fell asleep quickly, lulled by the darkness and the warmth and the smell of Anko's conditioner.