Hide verified the time and gave the roadway a last once-over, slipping backwards and away undetected through the heavy vines. The gatekeepers performed reliably, not missing a single check, and frequently took turns stepping out to stroll the area. The pair's level of commitment to the job was more than adequate, deadly serious despite their deceptively casual appearance and arguably playful attentiveness to one another. He would have a good report for Ibiki.
The performance checks were kind of boring, but he understood why he had to do this sort of work. He had been warned that his rookie phase could be slow and tedious, partially because the grunt work had piled up due to lack of personnel, and partially because Ibiki made no bones about his reservations in putting Hide in the field. The boss was irritated by his desire to move up and out. His request was nearly vetoed, because the boss believed that his skills were more suited to the lab and the extraction chamber, and not everyone in ANBU could be on the front line. Not aggressive enough, that was one of the biggest criticisms.
He didn't think that held water, though. ANBU members varied widely in their specialties and temperaments, even field operatives; he knew that firsthand, having debriefed his fair share of them. It was more likely that Ibiki wanted him to hurry up and get this field trial out his system and out of the way, and that he'd already decided to keep him working in the dark bowels of the compound. Much as he disliked it, he had to admit that he was far and away the best at his job among his cohorts. His talent was evolving into his curse.
The subject of his next surveillance was the primary reason he'd finally decided to push the issue and see if he was capable of serving outside of the facility. Umino's sessions and the aftermath left a bad taste in his mouth; or at least, worse than usual; not that he enjoyed the rest of the work.
He was simply very, very good at interpreting and influencing human behavior, and he'd been spotted and pigeonholed clear back when his Academy development plan noted his natural talents and placed him in upper division courses with an emphasis on psychological jutsu. His easy mastery of such complex subjects caught Ibiki's ever watchful eye; suddenly the path he thought he was going to take was turned upside down. Instead of performing healing and support for trauma victims on a medical team, a far darker career was thrust upon him.
He always gave 100% in the name of service to his village, and his performance was exemplary. He supposed if he were ordered to remain in his T & I position, he would continue to serve just as capably for the rest of his career in the much the same manner. But his heart was a little unsure; by the time Umino passed under his hands, he was having serious doubts about his role in the organization. He found it bearable on some level because his skills fit perfectly with the technical arts involved, and he was comfortable that his abilities were a very valuable asset for the village. But as a moral dilemma, he struggled with his deeds every day, waiting uncomfortably for the insulation of the permanent hard shell that would build up to ease his emotional discomfort - Ibiki had assured him that he should start feeling some relief soon. It was finally starting to form when Iruka's situation hit him hard, splintering his fledgling callousness and sending it flying.
He might never make full ANBU with pedestrian assignments like today's, but that was all right for now. He was not in a hurry to climb in status; he just needed to escape the daily grind of deftly flaying the souls of men held helpless within the suffocating strength of the T&I walls.
He arrived at the rooftop across from the small apartment and immediately knew he had work to do. His timing was perfect, but Umino was tardy and nowhere in sight, and his unique charka vibrations were undetectable. His subject was banned from cloaking his presence in his home while on restriction; and there was no presence in or outside despite the tick of the deadline ending his hour of free roaming.
This wasn't what he expected at all. Umino hit every mark when he was at the Hatake residence; that had been interesting to witness from a psychological study standpoint, but as an ANBU assignment it was a boring watch to say the least, with little to report. The copy-nin was a stern taskmaster; there would not have been much if any opportunity for the former sensei to get more than a half-step out of line before being corrected by his overseer. So maybe his full obedience in that situation was not a reliable indicator of how compliant he would be with rules, left to his own self-control.
Hide shook his head, fingering the mask in consternation. Ibiki would be livid, but even the slightest slip-up had to be reported. It was a shame to take away one of the man's few privileges, but he was doing it to himself, and he had to learn to take these restrictions seriously.
Five minutes passed, then ten. He had his orders and he followed them to the letter. At ten minutes overdue, he hit the communicator on his collar and hissed in his coded message.
He was not surprised when Ibiki showed up in person in no more than a minute, ordering him to start combing the village and bring the errant nin not to his home, but to the T&I compound, to be held under watch until further notice.
His first hunch, that time had innocently gotten away from Iruka while navigating the thriving marketplace, was a bust. A side trip to Danzo's courtyard found nothing in the way of Umino's chakra traces; of course, the space within the private property was cloaked and unreadable, so the possibility wasn't eliminated completely.
Heaven save him if he's late because he's at Kakashi's, Hide thought, certain that his superior indulged in that suspicion and already went to investigate that possibility. But if Ibiki had hit pay dirt, he would have sent the message to terminate the search; so that must not have been the case.
Hunches were fine, but having followed up on the most obvious ones, it was time to be more methodical. He broke the lay of the village out into a grid in his mind and starting at the edge of the populated area, began an organized sweep of the entire territory. It would take time, but a process of elimination was the most reasonable course to cover all of the myriad possibilities.
He hadn't been looking long when he caught the bare traces of Iruka's chakra frequency and followed it, quickly realizing where it would lead. Of course; outside of the populated areas, there were other destinations besides Danzou's to consider. Umino probably went in this direction to visit the memorial, in keeping with the habits in his file. Did such things still impact him to the degree that he would lose track of time altogether? At least this was the right trail; as it grew more detectable, there was no doubt who it belonged to. It was unmistakably fresh. He had to have been here very recently.
He picked up stronger traces at the dark polished stone. There was no one in sight and he detected no awareness or movement in the vicinity. The trail culminated here, but now he detected a stronger concentration coming from a direction that made little sense. Nothing but the overgrowth at the edge of the manicured memorial grounds lay that way; there was no path or known destination to be reached by forging through those thorny brambles, and nothing further beyond it except empty, overgrown fields. Was this some attempt to fake his direction of travel so that he could spend time elsewhere? Had he suddenly decided to up and run away, gaining the shield of the overgrowth before taking off to conceal the route? Hide pushed cautiously through the thicket, as silent as possible, using the arm plates and body armor as a shield against the thorns as he moved; his keen detection skills indicated that the primary source of Iruka's chakra was still here close by.
If he was having some sort of breakdown...Hide's thoughts shifted from curiosity to defensive caution. In his intense concentration searching for movement, wary of ambush, overthinking the possibilities, he pushed clear of the heaviest growth to quicken his pace and came embarrassingly close to trampling his fallen prey.
He thumbed on the communicator to call in the coordinates of his find. Dropping on one knee, he checked for overt injury before cautiously rolling Iruka onto his back, brushing away pine needles, dirt, and a fleeing spider from the tan face and neck. He was breathing well enough; although his heart rate was very slow, it was steady.
Those careful manipulations confirmed that while Iruka's life signs were strong, movement and touch were not sufficient to rouse him. Under the lids, his dark eyes were fixed, his pupils sluggish in responding to light.
He did not see any visible injury. Hide immediately noticed that, for the simple cloth that he wore, there were no scratches on his arms nor caught threads on his clothing.
Ibiki was beside him in a puff of light; Hide's mind made the connection and jumped to the explanation that Iruka may have teleported here as well, perhaps after sizing up the difficulty in getting past the brambles any other way.
That behavior didn't make sense. Was he trying to avoid someone, or simply trying to hide for some other reason? Maybe the ANBU that were now flashing in to comb the area knew more about situations like this than he did. Maybe they knew at first glance what had taken place here.
But he wouldn't be learning any more field skills this day. Ordered to removed the subject to the E.R. and stay with him to guard and observe, Hide realized that this wasn't going to be all that different than his typical old assignment. Except for that slightly odd turn of phrase Ibiki used.
"Don't let him out of your sight. I want you to stay in full ANBU around him for now. But don't hesitate to talk to him if you've got questions. Get a read on what's happened and get me a full report."
'For now?' Did that imply that Ibiki expected that he would be taking care of Iruka back to the compound and interacting with him in his role as assistant? Or did he mean something else?
Iruka was a complex and fascinating subject, in or out of the lab. Hide took on the orders without any qualms, hoping for the opportunity, however unlikely, to be of some benefit to him. Iruka's suffering had been the eye-opener that finally pushed him up and out of his downward spiral. It would be nice to think that in return, his new assignment would put him in a better position to return the favor.
xxxxxxx
"I have to go with my men on this one," Ibiki said. "The reports are consistent; all the physical evidence points to teleportation, followed by a clean fall. A faint, most likely. Which makes sense, given his erratic condition and the amount of energy he would have exerted to get there. One set of footprints, taking just a couple of strides from where they appear in the rough; a little irregular, so he likely staggered a bit. Then he went down without putting down his hands or going to his knees, which implies he passed out on his feet. It fits well enough with the assumption of confusion and disorientation; although Hide thought he seemed unnaturally calm and accepting of what was happening when he woke up in the infirmary, despite his claim that he didn't remember anything beyond standing at the stone and concentrating on paying his respects."
"The med report says there was a slight undercurrent of disturbed chakra when he arrived but it cleared up on its own. He's been unremarkable otherwise. Another one of those little blips I suppose; it was his first time going to the memorial alone since his release from Root, so I think it's safe to say it was an emotional trigger that set it off," Tsunade shrugged.
"There's no way to predict something like that. At least this was benign. Almost a non-event."
"This just confirms my last diagnosis. He'll be a long time mending. The issue of imbalance is not going away any time soon. It may never resolve completely."
"Seems that way. He claims he doesn't remember having any kind of flashback or unusual discomfort or any trace of an Even moment. Well, he seems stable enough for now. He didn't show any hesitation about staying home alone, or going back out to run his errands. I don't think it was anything to be too concerned about. It proves that a low-key approach works well enough even when things go wrong – I give him a specific time period to be out and follow up if he's late coming back. We can run that level of supervision on him indefinitely, doesn't take much in the way of man hours to cover it. We've got bigger issues to deal with right now anyway."
"Of course. But make sure it's not just the excursions you're checking up on."
"It's covered. If the spot checks turn up any red flags I'll pull him back into the compound for observation."
Tsunade nodded and turned from her absent gaze at the cloudless sky, a bit surprised to notice that Ibiki was looking at it as well. Typically, if he was at a window, it was a fair bet that something below caught his ever vigilant eye, or that he was scanning the area with serious purpose. To see his dark orbs reflecting only the blank blue heavens above was a first; and she took it as a sign of how deeply this developing situation troubled him.
She sometimes forgot he was not a natural-born monster, just a man driven to monstrous behavior by the demons infused by hardship into his heart and soul. In his twisted view, it was protective to nearly kill people to school them in protecting themselves. It was protectiveness that drove him to torture and traumatize his own men, in order to extract their best performance or secure every iota of information in debriefing even if they had some notion of holding back. Each individual had to be made accountable for dedicating every breath and drop of blood to their village; the village as a whole needed insurance against any and all hostile intentions from both without and within. Ibiki single handedly maintained that high water mark. He dedicated - no, more accurately sacrificed - his entire life to that sacred cause. He was the vaccination that lowered the risk of infection from within.
She studied him cautiously for some while after ascending to her position. His loyalty seemed solid, but his methods gave her grave doubts at first. His history, buried in highly classified files, had to be secured from the subject himself. He handed it over without expression or comment.
It was still unbelievable and stunning to recall reading the details of the seminal capture and torture detailed in his file. No man should have survived it; no mere human could have emerged with so much as a scrap of sanity. But here he stood years later, whole and obscenely powerful, in total control. The young, less experienced shinobi who managed to survive the impossible had done so by absorbing the horrors into his very being as a learning experience, a crash course on the dark methods of human manipulation. As they drove him to the depths and beyond, he filled to overflowing with their thought process, coming to terms with the willingness of one human being to freely choose to destroy another human being in a most heinous and calculating manner.
By twisting his own experience of horror and agony around a sudden, unexpected affinity for the craftsmanship of their methods, his suffering morphed into a surprising respect for the creativity of his tormentors. In that respect he found the tiny ledge of sanity in a world gone insane. It preserved just enough of his mind to allow it to remain intact.
There was no denying that the men who assaulted him were doing so while basking in the joy of absolute evil for its own sake; but Ibiki recycled that baseless, self-indulgent cruelty into his own art form, giving birth to his own, arguably good and necessary evil.
But despite all of that amazing tolerance for dark matters, even Ibiki didn't seem to have an easy way to get a handle on this dilemma over the request for publicly sanctioned seppuku.
She supposed that meant that her own extreme unease was more than warranted.
When Inoichi arrived he shook his head somberly and handed her his official report. For once, Ibiki was not over her shoulder trying to get his own look. They pretty much knew this was just the final formality from Yamanaka's grim expression. What appeared on the page confirmed it.
"I went much further than the requirements. Try as I might, I couldn't find a formal reason to deny the request."
"I didn't think you would. This is one of the situations that the modernized ritual was specifically designed to address. Especially since there's almost zero hope that his condition will ever improve."
"Still," Ibiki interjected, "this might not be the right action in terms of addressing morale. I know we discussed the backlash if we deny it. But the nin may not have fully assessed how grim the reality will be when it occurs."
"I agree that it will not be an uplifting experience globally but it's a fully understandable request for Genma to make. I hate to admit it, because it's the last thing I wanted to believe, but after thorough examination, I agree with him. In his place, I would hope that I would have the courage I would do the same," Inoichi said.
"He is not the only concern here. Not everyone understands the severity of his particular, unique case. This could cause a breakdown in the strength of the ranks, men might think this is an easy-out option they can take just because things aren't going their way. We can't let one individual's well-being compromise everyone else's. This stretches the tradition well beyond the concept of preserving professional honor. And isn't this really just a medical issue? Medical issues should remain private, treatment shouldn't be discussed and decided in the public forum."
"No, Ibiki. Stop. I'm not going there. This is a situation that developed as a direct result of his tactical failure during a mission, and that's the basis of his argument. He made his request properly and he specifically opted for full disclosure. He doesn't deserve to be forced to slowly rot away against his will on a technicality. Not after contributing an entire life of loyal service to this village."
"He doesn't have to rot. You could hospitalize him and give him a humane overdose; just say he took a sudden turn for the worse and died of natural causes. How is that any worse than this? It would be easier for him. Painless. He'd simply go to sleep and never wake up. How the hell is he going to manage the blade on his own, anyway? Whoever his second is, that's the person that will end up having to finish him. They'll carry that with them for the rest of their life. Hell, they might join him if they get too distraught, then what?"
"Bottom line: he wants to die with honor by his own hand. I'm not going to put him to sleep unless he asks me to. There's nothing more to discuss. We will make this swift and we will be resolute. Witness my mark on his plea, both of you. Place your countersigns with a clear conscience. This is my decision and mine alone, and I have no reservations about it. He deserves to have his last wishes respected."
xxxxx
Iruka sighed and secured the door, almost laughing at himself for thanking the tall ANBU for escorting him home and inspecting the premises before departing. He knew that, no matter how vaguely friendly the voice emanating from the mask might be, everything that person did was assigned and calculated according to orders. And in his experience, most definitely not calculated with his benefit solely in mind.
Still, even though the goal was no doubt to assure his compliance in returning home, and checking his residence for signs of any malfeasance on his part, it felt good knowing that he was safe and secure here. The strange incident left him shaken and unsure just how reliable his own common sense was at this point.
The trips into the village were such a mixed bag. Of course he would go again, he didn't dare give in to his reluctance to leave this slowly returning feeling of sanctity in his home. It felt like it was going to be tricky to find balance. On the one hand, it was normal and healthy to settle in to his own space; to dig in and have this place feel good again, to see it as a home base that would give him a strong sense of belonging even when he roamed. But on the other hand, his weakened ego was vulnerable to the temptation of clinging too hard to that feeling of sanctuary. It was stressful to venture out for countless reasons. It would leave all of those worries outside, out of sight and out of mind, if he could mange to submerge and disappear into this hidey-hole and throw a jutsu over the porch to erase the entrance from view.
That was a childish desire, but strong and compelling, the kind of thing with the potential to creep up and take over. If he stopped fighting and let go, he was pretty sure his level of withdrawal would swiftly become very deep and dark indeed. He very much understood how a person could become phobic to the degree that they could no longer leave the house.
Not that he was forced to be alone. They didn't really say that visitors were banned. They just didn't address it. And so far it was a non-issue. No one came knocking but the ANBU for inspections anyway.
But after the days spent trying to lessen Genma's misery, for all of these complications, he certainly had no real complaints about his own situation. He hoped he would never forget to take those days to heart and remember to count his blessings.
He sank down into his chair and the book on the side table caught his eye immediately. Kakashi's generous loan of the manual had been a nice gesture, one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. The goodwill behind it was extra motivation to perform the exercises properly and often. Seeing the well-worn cover felt almost as inspiring as if the man himself were there cheering him on.
But he didn't feel up to working out today. Whatever had taken place out by the memorial, along with the ensuing poking and prodding and interrogations at the infirmary, had sapped all his strength both mental and physical. It left him with the strange conviction that he had somehow lost something there, something he was forgetting but would miss very much when he remembered what it was. Just another part of his thinking that was not making sense yet. All that really carried over was the exhaustion, and a vague sense of loss.
Drawn to touch the physical evidence that he meant something to someone, he picked up the manual and let the cover fall open. Instead of turning to the printed pages, he let his fingers trace the hand-inked notations and studied them for the millionth time, wondering about that slice of time. Kakashi and his father struggled in what must have been terrible pain, co-existing as peers, in denial of the pressure suffocating their parent-child relationship. The massive weight of their all-encompassing careers, too heavy to lay down lest it be impossible to pick up again, took all their strength and attention. In the end it arguably crushed them both.
Iruka didn't question his own determination to return to that world of pressure, risk and responsibility, so he understood why Kakashi didn't turn away at that point, either. Able people with suitable strength had an obligation to step up and pull their weight in the ranks. Beyond that, the power of being a nin was undeniably addicting. It was not quite a game, but it did have the same elements of attraction: of winning, of climbing in rank, of moving up through acquisition of skills. It was thrilling, interesting, challenging – exciting. Once you had that experience, there was little else you could do that would make you feel as alive.
Maybe he should be shooting for something lower, behind the front lines, but he was glad no one was talking up a return to teaching, other than the odd off-handed comment. He'd been there, done that, and it was not an option that held interest for him any longer. Besides, a fair share of those who were relieved to see him leave the Academy were still there. His memories didn't have to be crystal clear to be painful; he still held strong feelings of disappointment and dislike for the staff there in general as well. Stepping back down into that environment, after all this time, was the last thing he wanted to do.
Today's incident was a strong indicator of how far he still had to go, and the hurdles were piling upon hurdles. That meant it would take longer but it did not mean that his goal was unattainable. It didn't mean he had the wrong goal, or that he should waste any more time pondering as to whether he should change it. They made it clear that he was not fit for release from medical supervision yet but there was no point in getting upset or embarrassed about it. Recovery had phases, and this phase was just a difficult, tedious one to live through.
He smiled to himself at Naruto's last message from the field, warning him to prepare for a sage-level tackle-glomp and trip to the ramen shop sometime close to the end of the month. His emotional side was a festering sore he couldn't wait to be rid of when he volunteered for the Root training; but now that it was back, he viewed it very differently. Emotional pain was just another form of pain, and it meant even even less now that he had the Root pain tolerance training ingrained in his nerves; it did not outweigh the warmth of the positive experiences he would now be mindful to embrace.
He carefully set aside the book to rise and pad to the bathroom, taking up his toothbrush in an impulsive decision to just go to bed now and give the world a cold boot to get this strange day behind him. There was still plenty of daylight left, and he had no idea if that ANBU who escorted him here, safely assuming that he was now staking out his place, would think less of him for convalescing when he wasn't sick or hurt, but it didn't matter. He had no appetite so dinner was a moot point, and there really was nothing else he had the energy for. This day was done.
He brushed staring at the slightly brighter square of paint scribbled with discolored adhesive, evidence of where the old mirror had been. On his next release period, he really needed to get a new one, so he could check his appearance in it like a normal person.
Like a normal person? When had he ever cared about that? Was that really a part of his goal now, too?
He drifted across the hall to his room and crashed on the bed, worn out, the concept of becoming 'normal' far too much to contemplate.
xxxxx
Raidou spoke loudly in Genma's ear, making sure he understood that he'd be back in a minute. Unless he was sleeping - in that eerily silent, motionless sleep induced by the massive amount of medication required to block the intrusion of pain and involuntary motion - Gen needed someone in reach constantly. With a warning, he might manage a few minutes without distress at best, but that was all.
He suspected that the visitor rapping at the door was here with another attempt to spell him, so this wouldn't take but a moment. 'No' was a very short word.
They might think they were doing him a favor offering him a break, but they were dead wrong. So long as he was allowed to take this duty, he planned to be by Gen's side every minute and every step of the way. Maybe, if he worked with him long and hard enough, maybe he would see something, or think of something, or figure out a way to improve Gen's quality of life enough to make a difference. They'd gone up against impossible odds before, and fighting side-by-side, they always managed to defeat the odds and come out on top.
If there was any way in the world to fix this, it would be something they would come up with together.
He pulled the door wide and froze at the vision of Lady Tsunade standing at the threshold, papers in her hand.
It couldn't be, he told himself. They just had the last of the series of examinations a few hours ago. It was too soon for them to have come to a determination.
"I have his answer," she said quietly, wasting no time on the formalities. "Under the circumstances, I'm compelled to deliver it to him in person."
He swallowed hard, unconsciously shaking his head back and forth slightly, as if to refuse her words. Her stare was direct and unblinking; in deference to her rank, he stood aside.
"Can I..."
"I'll call to you when you can join us. Until then, wait here. He is..?"
"In the living room."
She swept by in a haze of flowing robes and he fell back against the wall once she was out of sight, heart pounding and gasping for control of his breath.
It was really happening.
It didn't matter what he did, or how he felt, or how much he was willing to sacrifice. Genma was going to go through with it. And far too soon, his precious friend would be gone.
It took everything he had to pull it together and obey when the Lady finally beckoned him to join them.
xxxx
Kakashi stripped off the towel from its place riding low around his hip and surveyed the apparel laid out on his bed. The everyday vest and working greens, set aside on the chair, seemed to represent security and comfort compared to this somber, formal garb before him. He settled a fresh mask over his nose and mouth, an act as natural as breathing, and stood motionless with the length of matching black silk in his hand. He shook his head and stopped himself; what was he thinking? It should go on last, in front of the mirror, so it wouldn't do weird things with his damp hair. Maah, he truly didn't want to have to think about his appearance, but today it was important to present the right image.
All black; black pants, black sleeveless high-neck tunic, black jacket with high collar.
It was meant to show respect and reverence, not mourning, but that wasn't how it felt inside. A man in this business had the right to leave this world with dignity and honor under approved circumstances. Every nin, whether they supported one individual decision or another or heartily objected, every nin stopped short of calling an end to the practice. It was terrifying to think of losing that option.
So many horrendous forms of suffering could be ignited by a jutsu that no one would ever be able to reverse. So many errors held the potential of cursing a man to be forever shunned from all friendship and trust. To be a ninja meant many, many risks; one of the few avenues of retreat allowed to them was the act of seppuku.
So even though his heart rattled with panic, urging him to go and plead with Genma to change his mind, to please wait, to just go on living one more day...he knew he could not. It would be selfish, unfair, and unprofessional. He knew full well that he would not want to carry on the way Shiranui had been forced to. The time the injured man spent with Iruka, and then, in turn, with Raidou, was a very generous attempt by the Hokage to show him that even in convalescence, one could at least have moments, perhaps, with some value. But blind was one thing; losing his other senses as well was too much to bear. This was a man who had lived his life with an uncanny ability to sense what was around him, and used that ability to become the most widely-praised assassin in all the allied villages. Enemies, too, recognized him highly. His bingo book bounty fluctuated higher than Kakashi's more than once, a point they joked about companionably many times when their evenings found them off-duty on the same night, frequenting the jounin watering holes.
If he were to be honest, these things weren't just troubling in fact. That word always hit him right between the eyes, and echoed with the vision etched in his skull of his father's blood, the congealing flow reaching clear into the pebbles of the garden and pooled around the exotic plant he had proudly brought home to his dad from one of his first missions into another land.
Cowardly. He clearly and painfully remembered his own first reaction as being cowardly, and embarrassingly childish. He saw the mess and had focused on the flower bed, to get his breath, because he suddenly froze and it took all that he had to finally generate a cry of alarm to summon the authorities.
He would never forget the way the blood tried to adhere his sandals to the ground as he threw off the shock and moved to seek a pulse. That upon finding none, he stupidly and illogically shook his father's shoulders anyway, as if that alone would somehow restore his vital signs. The silence was absolute but for his own breath laboring in panic.
It was then that he realized fully what his father had done, falling back wide eyed and blasted speechless with the enormity of it, the finality. The darkening blanket of deep crimson, the scroll on the ground, the type of blade...
And in that one moment of truth, he was left an orphan, and wondering if he had already been one for some time but had failed to realize it until now. They spoke rarely of late, and never about anything but missions and household chores. Kakashi would offer his latest story about his training, and his father would nod and as far as he could see, stopped listening after the first few words. He would then reply with some complaint about Kakashi's chores, or his training, or his lack of self-discipline, and walk away. For the two weeks prior to his father's suicide, young Hatake ate alone, the place he set for his father going untouched day after day. He would never have dreamed of complaining, or asking what was wrong. His father would not confide in him, ever; he knew there was no point in asking. The lonely, bitter feeling was normal; normal for him, and his father, and all ninja, he decided. It wasn't something that warranted complaint or effort to overcome. I came with the job.
He was not terribly important in his father's eyes. He was convinced of that. When the teachers told Sakumo that his child was a prodigy he never said much. Maybe Kakashi's abilities and promising future helped defray the resentment at having to be saddled with a kid just a little, but that was all. The only person his father loved was his mother, and he raised their child out of obligation to her, because she would expect him to see that their offspring was cared for.
But it did not mean that he had to care for that curse of a child very much, apparently. In the end, Kakashi raised himself into adulthood.
He had to admit that he always had a touch too much empathy for Sasuke's belief that it was worse to lose your family and have to pick yourself up and go on alone, than to never have had them at all.
Ah, it was too much, way too much, to be thinking of such things on a day like today. The recent damage in his head was still a work in progress. He blamed the excessive jitters on it fully. No matter his feelings, in his normal state he should be able to present a flawless image at a somber gathering such as this. Today it was an unprecedented struggle to form that heavy, impenetrable shell.
He'd dressed on auto-pilot and now all that remained was to cover Obito's bequest with a drape of simple silk; he tied it on, willing his fingers to be steady despite their attempt to tremble disobediently.
The lone natural eye searched back in the mirror after it confirmed that his Sharingan was covered neatly. He rubbed the naked indentation on his forehead with the side of his finger. It was symbolic to attend without armor, uniform or hitai-ate, but in a very real sense, it just added to the depressing experience as a whole. Not as ninja, but as a mere man, he might stand and witness the worst catastrophe, yet be able to do nothing.
Wasn't that the crux of Genma's choice? No one wanted to be forced to bear a life of castrated observation. If you couldn't find an angle that made it bearable, is simply wasn't.
That, again, was core to his disquiet with his father's choice. Not only had he abandoned his son, arguably in a way that was contemptuous of his needs as a minor, but he had every means at his disposal to go forward, prevail, vindicate and atone, had he only made the effort. His choice was for his own selfish benefit. He was by all accounts a famously capable jounin, not the absolute best, but no slacker, either...he owed a debt that would have been better defrayed by diligent and dedicated service rather than his meaningless, shortsighted sacrifice.
Deep down Kakashi wrestled with the conviction that it had more to do with his father's petty selfishness and unsavory ego, his unbalanced concern over reputation. People would talk. They wouldn't be nice, or want to be pals, any more. Boo-hoo, I guess I should die.
Fuck that. Kakashi had proven his old man to be totally full of crap a million times over. He read his porn in public, fought with comrades when he felt like it, and didn't go looking for any bosom buddies, even though they had a tendency to flock to him. He fucked who and when he wanted, he had no particular need for anybody, and he'd managed to be the death of both of his teammates back in the day, yet here he was, often number one on the list of high-earners on the mission charts. What the hell value was it that his dad was afraid of falling short of? So afraid that he made the most epic fail of all by gutting himself in middle of their beautiful estate?
It had taken forever to get all of that jerk's blood out of the courtyard. The dogs said traces of it lingered to this day, despite his obsessive, repeated attempts to clean down to every tiny stone. He still gave it a shot, once in a while, trying different cleaners and methods. Until the dogs gave him the all clear, he supposed he always would.
Still an hour to go. He told himself that he wanted some air, and decided to go step out into the courtyard. It would be all right. It would help him man up if it got him a little pissed; at least, it usually did.
He cringed, sensing the knock before it came. Now here was something else that was going to make it difficult to cinch on that mask of solemn strength. But he couldn't bring himself to pretend he couldn't come to the door.
"Kakashi. Oh..."
Iruka, dressed similarly, took in Kakashi's garb.
"Hey."
"So, you are going. I wasn't sure..."
"Of course. We have a history, you're well aware."
"I am, I just...wasn't sure how you thought about these things."
"No? I see. Well, you look well."
"Better. I just..." Iruka looked down, rubbing his scar. "I just regret that I was wasn't enough help. I keep wondering if I made things worse somehow."
"I don't think it gets much worse than his situation. I'm sure you gave it your best effort. You didn't do any harm. I'm sure of it."
"You agree with his choice?"
"I don't disagree with it...but it's hard to say. I support Genma, always, one hundred percent...but I guess I'm just selfish. It's hard to think of how it will be without him."
"I don't know. If he'd just wait, they might be able to reverse some of this in time. I keep thinking, maybe if enough of us go talk to him..."
"Iruka, that might make us feel better, but it's just going to make it harder for him. Lady Tsunade did his entire review. It's not depression or mental illness or dementia, because she would deny his request for any of that. His application must have been in order, and she would already have tested him for his full belief and commitment to this action. Our job is support him, and allow him to follow his heart without judgment, even if it means covering up how we feel about the loss."
"This must be so much more difficult for you, with what happened with your..."
"Iruka?" Kakashi interrupted softly. "Can we have this conversation another time? I'm sorry, but I need to finish getting ready."
The brown eyes widened. Kakashi was obviously all dressed and ready in a physical sense.
"You don't want to walk over together?"
"I'm going to be very candid with you. Something like this...I have to represent myself in a certain way. And I'm not sure that I can do that right now if you're here. It's... it's just that I need to be very composed and think only of the matter at hand."
"I'm sorry, I only thought that going with someone would be better than going alone. I didn't mean to pry."
"It's my problem, and I'm not trying to burden you with it, but I've got to be selfish today." He scratched his head and shrugged. "But before, I would have told you to leave me alone, and not explained at all. Thinking I was sparing you by hiding the truth. And you would have been offended, because I'm so cold, and rude."
Iruka swallowed hard. Kakashi was indeed a much deeper and complex person than he had previously assumed. It was incredibly kind of him to changed his way of responding, even though it ran contrary to his habits, when this was clearly a very difficult day for him.
"You're not at all cold and rude. I'll go now, but 'Kashi? Can we meet later? When it suits your mood?"
Kakashi nodded. It made the corners of Iruka's mouth quirk up, and he loved seeing that little hint of expression. Just enough of a signal to let him know that his response was pleasing. A tiny bright moment in a terrible, heartbreaking day.
"I'll go, then."
"Let's wait to talk again until then, all right? When this is over and we've had a chance to catch our breath."
Iruka read him loud and clear. Please don't talk to me there. I need to keep it together, and talking to you will make that more difficult for me.
It worried him a great deal. Kakashi's mighty stone facade was crumbling too much, if it was making it hard for him to function. He wanted to see past all that, between just the two of them, but he never intended to weaken the great and deadly Sharingan ninja's insanely aggressive wall of defense.
xxxxx
"Thank you, Rai," Genma said, his voice shaky from his affliction but otherwise strong. His hands swept over the preparations, touching them all – the pillow, the sword, the oils and the scrolls. He was pretty sure that his characters would be illegible, but bless Raidou for transcribing the largest part of his message. He'd have to do the best he could on the last, because the things he wanted to express at the end were things he'd rather not have to witness anyone reading, even Rai.
Gen loved people inwardly, quietly, at a safe distance and largely unnoticed, so as not to drag anyone into the cursed aura of an assassin. He had a certain number of precious possessions that he wanted to leave those beloved people, as a gift for allowing him that warmth in his life, for being the object of his unrequited love. He hoped they would be happy in knowing they had made him happy. If not, well, his gesture was a bit pathetic, and he'd rather not experience that particular revelation.
Raidou was being the same amazing partner that he had always been, through missions and life crisis and injury and you name it. A better comrade a man could not have. He loved Raidou most of all, more than his own life. He never put it in to words all that time, but he wouldn't try to express it now, either, holding back in an attempt to spare Rai unnecessary pain. It was bad enough to put him through all this as it was.
But it would be worse to linger, blind, eventually deaf and most likely mute, losing control of his bodily functions and ending up being everyone's dreaded obligatory visit at the long-term care facility.
No. He had served Konoha well all these years, and every mission could have cost him his life. They gambled his last breath against the money he brought in for the village again and again. It was only right that they allow him to die for his own sake, and not punish him with a life sentence of sensory isolation for the crime of coming back alive one time too many.
He didn't dare delay any longer. Rai was suffering too, now, and it was time to put a stop to it. It would be difficult, but only then would one of them be free to start healing.
"I'd like to start now."
"What? Did you say you wanted to start? But it's early. We've still got a little time."
"Rai...enough. I'm ready. Please."
He steeled himself. Much longer, and the soldier pills he'd taken would start to wear off, and this brief period of semi-reliable movement would be spent. Thankfully, Raidou did exactly what he expected. Instead of arguing, he complied.
The much taller man gathered up the bent, damaged body as carefully as he could, knowing how much pain his former partner experienced now just standing up. And he embraced him, carefully, with a warmth and sorrow so powerful Genma couldn't fight it off. It seeped into his heart with a horrible ache, and leaked out of his sightless eyes in a trickle of thin, swift tears.
Raidou wanted to beg him not to do this, but to do so would be too cruel and selfish. Gen was in agony, but worse, he felt humiliated and genuinely without hope. His future held nothing more than pain and further decline. Tsunade and all the medical powers were stymied. Katsuyu had no effect. If Gen were the type of person to freely embrace his relationships with others, he might have found enough comfort in being cared for to find some quality of life ahead. But he hated it, distrusted caregivers, went into mental hysterics over the concept of being helpless in the presence of fully capable human beings, and suffered day and night with the knowledge that he would never again slip through the forest to slit deserving throats with his amazing skills. No life-or-death rush of the hunt. No mission sex. No senbon work; nothing to justify his existence.
He brushed his traitorous tears away and let his hands find Rai's face, to do the same for him. He knew Rai, knew that this would be very hard for him, and that he would have tears to brush away as well.
But his hands were caught and turned away, and he was in a hug again.
"You're my favorite person in this entire world, Shiranui Genma," Raidou said in his ear, voice husky and tight but raised, to be sure his friend's failing hearing would get every word. "So I'm not going to say goodbye. Send me a sign from the other side sometime, will you? Let me know you're all right. Because I refuse to believe you'll be gone completely. I'll just keep talking to you and sharing my life with you and taking you with me, here inside, every day, every night, whenever and wherever I go, until the time comes that we're together again."
Gen nodded, unable to reply; his back was tightening, and his throat was not cooperating, so his end of the audible conversation was over.
Raidou pulled back and looked at him; the play of emotions in Gen's nearly sightless eyes communicated everything, and he understood. If this went on much longer, Gen's physical ability to go through with his private ceremony would fail.
He helped his friend to his knees, in front of the silk cloth with the tanto and the arranged ceremonial items, made sure the shaking hands did their final inventory and that Gen was satisfied.
"You're certain that you have to do this alone. You're sure. I'll stay and be your second if you want. Honestly. It might be best."
Gen shook his head, jaw set. Tsunade had approved his right to a solitary ritual. He had no second thoughts about forcing someone to witness this.
"I'll go now. Call out if you need me, I won't be far away. I'll talk to you soon."
With that, he left, and the blind, agonized ninja, painfully hunched on his knees, reached for the brush and the ink, and feeling for the scroll began to stroke his final words, hoping that the figures his mind envisioned would translate well enough through is hands without the benefit of his eyes, that they might be legible.
A hand on his back startled and angered him, with a slight edge of defensiveness left over from his worklife. The voice was shockingly clear, circumventing his ears, and going straight into his head.
"You seem to have an interesting solution laid out there, but I must intrude and tell you that I sense that this is not the best thing for you. I don't think you should go through with it. Might I have a moment of your time?"
xxxx
"Doing all right?" the deep voice came to his ear softly from behind. It sounded very familiar, but when he turned slightly to see who spoke, he couldn't place the face. Iruka frowned slightly at the twinge of frustration; the holes in his memory were surely to blame.
He nodded and turned back to resume facing forward.
Hide stayed set behind and in arm's reach, decked out in the same anonymous black of the day, satisfied. His subject looked to be holding up. The confusion associated with identifying people was written all over his face. Now that Hide had presented his unmasked image in a shinobi group setting, that would cement his place in Iruka's disjointed memory as one of the regular nin, one who felt friendly enough to inquire about his well-being.
He noticed Izumo's sideways look; as a less than familiar face showing up among the rest of the crowd, this was a slightly different problem. A handful of them would know him from his days in the Academy; of course, his fellow ANBU, most here in plainclothes, were more than familiar. He had a subdued presence sufficient to allow him to move unchallenged among the crowd.
But he was not someone others were used to seeing talking to Umino. He would have to start up with short, casual exchanges, until it became a non-event, a normalcy, to see the two of them together.
Because per his latest directive, they were going to be getting quite close.
Whispering and slight gestures caught Hide's eye; with relief he noted that it was not because he was the focus of their attention. A few of the men were looking back and raising eyebrows.
He glanced back to see what the problem was and realized that he shared the very same reaction. All in black standing well behind the crowd, Danzou leaned on a cane and watched with a bemused, curious look, as if he had happened upon seller's demonstration of some new and interesting product.
Iruka had not turned to see him, which implied that he hadn't sensed him, either. Hide moved up closer, nearly touching elbows with Umino, vying for a protective position that would block Danzou from making eye contact if Iruka turned. As long as the unpredictable elder kept his distance, that would have to be good enough for now.
He had to hand it to Ibiki, it was smart to post him here and use this opportunity to begin creating their rapport in public. No one else interacted with Umino much; Hatake was downright ignoring him. If he started having a problem, Hide would be the first and likely the only one to intervene, and the situation would be easy to control.
Like the true, if hazily remembered, good friend that he would slowly be revealed to be.