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Chapter 2
Two weeks had passed and although he was quite exhausted, somehow one furiously clerical ninja managed to defeat the entire slated ninety-day file reorganization challenge. It was done. It was perfect. And he had resisted the urge to rub his scar with his damn toes, he was so desperate.
He'd even taken a ruler and spaced all of the files and tabs perfectly, equidistant from the sides of the drawers in all of the cabinets, tabs in perfect alignment, all edges square and neat. It was blindingly precise.
It delighted and irritated Ibiki to no end. Now what the hell was he supposed to do with the simpering chunin?
Make a man of him, Ibiki. He did you a favor (everyone else who had attempted to fix up the files just made them worse and worse. A man of discipline, he was solidly pleased at the neat, rigid uniformity of the Umino-sanitized files). Now return it. Maybe afterwards he wouldn't be so damned annoying.
o0o0o0o0o
Monday after school, still dribbling blood from his chin, Iruka had to teleport to make it to the Investigations Unit on time. Man, this assignment had turned out to be somewhat of a false alarm. So what if one of his ex-students had been sent to do this. Clerical work never hurt anybody. All that fuss about Ibiki. The man was an ogre to work for, but not so terrifying that you couldn't bear it. Iruka should have listened to the silver-haired harpy and stayed out of it. Well, hindsight is always 20-20.
He quickly swiped away the slowing blood. The wound came from the shuriken that flew behind a student earnestly trying to throw the thing forward. It had forced Iruka to dodge and grab it before it spun back into the line of waiting miniature would-be assassins. It had nicked his chin deeply and he didn't attempt to stem the resulting flow of blood, using the wound to illustrate the dangers of poor control and lack of concentration. The children were always attentive at the sight of blood and Iruka felt those lessons were worth instilling deeply. The more it soaked the front of his uniform the better.
Well, until he realized that he didn't have time to change if he was to report to Ibiki on time. It was looking like he'd be getting another lecture. He ran over the two hundred-plus words of the statement of apology in his mind again. Good. He still had every word memorized, and he would launch into it as soon as the man laid eyes on him.
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"You're changing into those anyway, Umino, shit-can the apology. You got any pets?" Ibiki stared at him and motioned to a folded stack of grey-green cotton.
Confused, Iruka barely remembered to stop his hand as it started up to his face. "No, no pets."
"Good. Because you won't be leaving here for a while. I don't want any animals starving to death."
Iruka blinked. "Well, wait, I still have my classes to run.."
"No. Tsunade's scheduled substitutes for the duration. I need you here. You'll have clothes and toiletries provided for you. Sit. I need to brief you."
Iruka sat, and sat very ,very still indeed.
He read the printed outline that was shoved into his hand.
Incarcerated. Posing as a deserter? What the hell?
"You'll be monitored. Your cellmate is Hidata Jeninki, a rogue nin with few qualities to recommend him. He smart, and he's tough...he seems to be pretty familiar with prison. He only has one known weakness so far - he tends to have a soft spot for 'pretty boys'. Your mission is to get him to reveal the whereabouts of his hideout. He has two Konoha nins captive there. We do not know if they were alive when your cellmate last saw them, and we need to find that out as well. These things you must extract from him. Now get changed."
To Iruka's chagrin Ibiki waited with arms folded and offered him no privacy to change. The master interrogator watched intently as the blushing man stripped and re-dressed in pajama-like prison greens.
Well, Ibiki observed, he has a reasonably well-maintained physique. More adequate than one would be led to believe in his usual garb. A good choice for this endeavor.
And perhaps now the hours spent watching the monitors might not be so tedious, which was a nice little surprise; he wondered if there would be any more before the detail came to a close.
o0o0o0o0o
It wasn't a sound he'd ever heard before, so it came as a shock when the clang of the iron bars clutched his heart with the fear of a caged animal. It surely would be much worse when it was his own cell that closed. He stood with his eyes downcast and waited as the keys rattled and the next cell opened. His cell. This couldn't possibly be happening.
But it was, and the rattle as the door's wheels squeaked and the bars slid past turned his bowels to liquid.
Oh, and that was even worse. The toilet stood in the middle of the cell, with no privacy whatsoever.
Not one bite of solid food is passing these lips until I get out of here, Iruka vowed silently.
Eyes dark as his own watched him warily as he stepped into the cell and turned, holding his hands out in front of him. One guard observed from the walkway as the other undid the metal cuffs and chains. Rubbing his wrists, Iruka tried to hazard a glance at his new surroundings. The guard motioned him to the cot on the left. When he stood by it the guard gave the cell a quick inspection and exited. The man on the other cot remained motionless and silent, watching.
When the cell door clanged shut, the heart-stopping feeling returned. He barely heard the boots clomping as the guards left the cellblock. Sweat jumped out on his forehead and his breath started coming in fast gasps.
A phobia he never knew he had. Not good, not good. The cell swam and he sat heavily on the cot, fear rising. That man will know now. He'll see that I'm a fake. I'm dead, I'm trapped! The walls are sucking all the air out of the room and I'm dying.
The floor was growing dim and distant and the desperate attempt to bring his breathing back to normal was having the opposite effect.
Hands closed over his face and he startled hard.
"Hey, easy," a voice sounded quietly in his ear. "It's the cell's chakra suppression, it triggers your fight-or-flight reflex. Try to slow your breathing down."
The hands cupped together over his mouth and his breath heated the space, acting like the proverbial brown paper bag to stem his hyperventilation.
Slowly the cell spun back into focus and his chest slowed its frantic heaving. He squinted an eye shut to divert a rivulet of sweat from running into it. The other eye turned to meet his helper. Eyes the same deep root beer brown met his, cautiously concerned.
The murdering kidnapper. Looking at him, appraising, now that he was calming down.
Iruka's eye snapped back away and he froze. One panic attack over, another was brewing anew.
It struck him that his cellmate's affinity for pretty boys might not be something he wanted to think about right now. Especially with his own chakra gone.
His guts cramped and gurgled noisily .
I will die first, he swore to himself.
"Need a hand getting to the crapper?"
If you had any decency and pride in your work you'd murder me now. I am NOT using that 'crapper'.
He shook his head no.
The other man shrugged, let him go and went back to lounging on the other cot, still looking at him. He absently threw his long hair over his shoulder to keep it out of his face
"Got a name?"
"Iruka." It came out in a strained squeak.
The other man twitched. "Okay."
"And you're…?"
"Jeninki."
Iruka nodded. "Jeninki," he repeated.
"So, what brings you here?"
"Those guards," Iruka said before he really thought.
Jeninki snorted. "A wise guy, huh?"
"The opposite. Not wise at all."
Jeninki turned that answer over in his head. What an odd duck - or more likely, a stool pigeon. Seemed harmless otherwise, though.
"I meant, what landed you in here?"
"I didn't do anything wrong. I'm innocent." Iruka had already determined that this would be the easiest story to tell, since it was the truth.
"Suuuure…me too. I'm innocent of abduction. What are you innocent of?"
"Desertion."
"And they didn't behead you on the spot? What, has Konoha gone sissy or something?"
Iruka shrugged. "I'm not a threat. Just a schoolteacher, a chunin."
"Mind if I ask why you were leaving?"
"Yes," Iruka said sadly. "I mind." It was so much easier not having to act. He drew on experience, thinking of the last time he prayed he could leave this village in general and one jounin in particular, and never return.
It seemed to be the right thing to say.
"I see. Is it that you're not used to the accommodations?"
"I'm tired," Iruka said, easing down on the rough grey wool blanket tightly covering the spartan cot. He turned his back to the man, needing time to regain his composure, and thinking that a show of disinterest would be convincing in his effort to fill the role of cellmate.
A hand jerked his head back by his banded hair.
"Don't turn your back on me. Who the fuck do you think you are?"
Iruka grabbed his wrist, concerned at how odd it still felt to be in a chakra-suppression cell. They were mere men, fingers gripping and nails digging in, flesh and muscle combatants. Neither man would have much cause to have trained in such a state. The cell suppressed their usable chakra completely, as if they had none.
It was definitely to Iruka's advantage. This man was supposed to be at elite jounin level. But here, nose-to-nose, the chunin schoolteacher's slightly smaller but ripped body would finally give him an advantage he actually sought. They flew into one another, grappling, rolling hard on the floor, grunting unfinished curses as they struggled and fought without grace or plan.
Iruka's cheek scraped the floor as he scissor-kicked the larger man from his position atop him, gaining enough freedom to face him again and get a hand on his windpipe. A knee pushed him away and down, preventing him from getting enough leverage to complete his stranglehold and they rolled, clawing and getting in short hard blows whenever a fist shook free.
They were starting to sweat, both of them experienced enough at fighting to stay close and prevent the other from getting too much force in their swing. The grappling was fierce and it went on for some time before they found it was beginning to wear them down.
They were now more defensive, aggression and anger gradually waning. They slowed and warily panted as they finally stopped moving, each restraining the other and not letting go. Iruka had little satisfaction at the bruises he saw blooming on the other man's face, but couldn't feel too sorry for him as he sucked on the blood from his own split lower lip to keep it from rolling down his chin.
Why the hell hadn't Ibiki sent someone to the cell yet? The cell was thoroughly bugged and monitored, of course. Jeninki pushed him away and Iruka let go, braced in case it was the precursor to another attack. Instead, the other man gingerly felt his swelling cheek as he stood, stepping back still facing Iruka.
There was no sound except for their labored breathing and an occasional short, throat-clearing cough. Iruka rolled cautiously to his feet, stepping back to sit on the edge of his cot.
Jeninki's eyes roamed the corridor out past the bars, then back to Iruka's pissed off face. So what does that prove, he wondered. Does it prove he's just another prisoner, not worthy of intervention? Or does it prove that he's a plant, and they don't want to blow his cover?
tbc