Even watched what threatened to become his new routine, seething in disgust. Iruka was working away at his planner, putting his problems on the back burner to immerse himself in his work, swiftly descending into a career of complacent servitude. Dull and demeaning work among the slackers and cowards would soon destroy the last specks of respectable shinobi that somehow managed to survive.
Clearly, his defenses were dropping. The fool was leaving himself wide open. He was busy and engaged and thinking happy thoughts about his return to wet-nursing at the Academy. Even carefully veiled his presence as he lurked observing the foolishness. It was working so well that his host dared to hope he was gone.
More than just hoping, Iruka was relieved, and carelessly willing to leap at the opportunity to stand down from the fatigue of constant internal red alert. It let him concentrate fully on the frivolous tasks that occupied his time.
Out of the blue, the perfect opportunity materialized and Even's unswerving vigilance finally found its reward. He was already aware that they had been compromised by Hide's active connection, deeply embedded into Iruka's chakra as an entry point for monitoring and control. He paid close attention to the wear and tear from the repeated removal and reapplication of that overly invasive jutsu, and the ignorant lack of healing support from either interfering party. Even was the only one wise enough to monitor just how severely the damage was weakening his host.
Today's inspection revealed something new. A breach was developing from the strain of the imperfection in Iruka's continuity. With his guard down, that tender flaw in his defense was rapidly expanding into a wide open vulnerability. It was already paper-thin.
This was it. Instead of having to seep in covertly with little hope of doing more than being a strong influence, Even gathered all that he was and charged through without reserve in an all or nothing gamble.
Iruka dropped the pen and hammered down his fist with incredible force of rage, surprising himself at such an unusual reaction to pain. Maybe it was because it was the first time he'd experienced such a sudden, blinding headache of this type. He wanted to beat the table to bits, so much so that that his planted fist trembled despite the pressure he exerted.
The table was Kakashi. Ibiki. Tsunade. Hide. Jeninki. The Leaf establishment. It was his life, outside of Root. It was unsatisfactory and an abomination. He should destroy it. He should destroy all of it. His other hand clawed up the pen and clutched it in stabbing stance.
The importance of the paper penetrated the grip of his rage, flushing his stunned base personality back into play.
He had a proposal to outline. A job to show up for. People he'd worked with before who were cautiously interacting with him in a very promising way. Prevailing through all the trip-wires and manipulations, he had made his own path to a stable plateau. What did he have to be so enraged about at this point? What good would it do to go ballistic about the past now that he finally made a tolerable place for himself? He'd be cutting off his nose to spite his face.
He fluctuated between confusion, resentment, and rage, and struggled to find a way to appease it, to get back to center. This wasn't right. It was more than just a mood swing. It looked like he wasn't through having blips of Even after all.
That was hard to embrace, but it was the only answer. He still wasn't free of those 'spells' and it was worse this time because he let his guard down.
Not trusting his own behavior, he stood and moved physically away from the papers. His head still hurt fiercely, further worrying and upsetting him. This was taking far longer to pass than any of the recent spells already, way more than just a flash. Unsure, he retreated further to ride it out, putting distance between his unpredictable impulses and anything he might ruin until he was certain he was back in control.
Anger and fear merged; he felt a surprisingly strong and gut-twisting surge of longing for the stability of being in Danzou's possession. Hatred flared to fill his chest again, burning in outrage against the pigs who attempted to intrude on their honorable pact. It felt righteous to despise those who had destroyed his higher purpose and yet, at the same time, there was equally strong disgust at his loathsome self.
Logic and reason struggled for a foothold in the present. Now it didn't seem to smart to go back to the Academy. The hours and days and weeks and months of looking out for others and dealing with minutia and parents and piddling little rules and punishment. Was he really thinking that he would never kill again? Ever? Never return home to that dark, powerful room to take his position upon the steel platform that birthed his success, to the sense of worth and belonging unparalleled in his human existence? Would that place welcome someone as flawed as he was now? But Danzou had invited him back, very recently, and he was sure that had not been a dream.
He lost his balance, stumbling back until he collided with the wall, barely managing to stay upright for a few seconds before sliding down to slump heavily on the cold tile. His head thundered with the turmoil of so much contradiction, shot through with a barrage of broken memories of a life that only a fraction of his mind was allowed to comprehend.
It didn't pass but he managed to stop fighting and acclimate to it, adapting on the fly in order to function again. Once he figured out how to focus despite the pain he found the wits to rise. It got easier from there. He shook himself off and shifted his weight to confirm his stability. The sense of outrage persisted, warming his major muscle groups, eyes fiery with determination. To hell with the planner. His hands quaked with the desire to rip it to bits and burn it. To destroy the bad decision - no, make that all of the bad decisions - that were on the verge of ruining his life.
He lifted his head, eyes narrowing in concentration as his hyper-alert senses reported that one of those decisions was approaching the front door.
xxxxx
Ibiki paced next to the hooded figure in the chair, debating the next move in his head.
Twenty-four hours of interrogation and thorough biological sampling left them with no more information than when they started. Exhausted, weak, confused and reaching the end of his rope, Genma still professed to know nothing.
Well, Moreno was fairly comfortable believing him. Inoichi's probes found Shiranui's mental state to be consistent with his claims of ignorance and confusion. And while the analysis of his synapse activity came back only slightly abnormal, the small collective of recently destroyed brain cells were more than enough to account for his actual memory loss.
Ibiki was unwilling to assume innocence based on mere lack of incriminating memory, however. He could have done anything, consorted with anyone, during that obliterated span of time. He was healed to an as yet unknown but significant degree, and that alone mean he'd been helped by someone even more skilled than Tsunade. Extreme care had been taken to conceal that someone's identity. He'd been scrubbed with a jutsu so thorough that not a single non-native cell or chakra variance could be found, an incredible achievement in the wake of a healing process.
And now his partner seemed to be out of the village without orders. Ibiki wasn't a big believer in coincidence. Did Namiashi have to complete the deal with this mysterious benefactor? Did he drop off Genma for them and then take a powder, to hide the fact that he'd orchestrated the entire thing? The more he thought about it, the more plausible that seemed.
Raidou had enough knowledge, opportunity and motive that he could have come up with a way to stage Genma's disappearance. Shiranui himself had been under 24-hour observation by neutral parties otherwise, and in his state of illness he seemed to have no capability of contacting anyone secretly, much less the mental acuity to come up with a plan of this scale. And in their extensive field work, both men had crossed paths with men who specialized in forbidden jutsu and human experimentation. Raidou could have cut a deal, delivered his partner for repair, and now that the job was done...
Well, he wouldn't be at all surprised if the trade was for Raidou's own body or life in return. Having witnessed the degree of dedication between the two men, a problematic degree in his opinion, it was entirely possible.
The ANBU sent out to track the AWOL disfigured shinobi were well underway; Ibiki didn't really have much more he could do with the man shaking in the chair other than keep him isolated.
Genma was certainly not his usual self. Pathetic, the way he all but collapsed in on himself after just a day of chemical-enhanced debriefing. His endurance under duress was historically among the Leaf's best. Ibiki surmised that his healing was completed very recently, within days if not hours. He certainly hadn't built up any physical strength or neurological resilience. Though no longer symptomatic, he was as weak or weaker organically than he'd been in the hospital.
Tears were dripping off his chin again. That was the most disconcerting anomaly of all. He'd never been able to break this man down to tears before. He'd never heard of the situation that had.
"I thought I asked you to observe some restraint," Tsunade frowned, shooing away the ANBU escort and closing the door behind her. She shook a handful of papers at him. "He's not out of the woods just because he can move and speak again. I want him transported to the infirmary immediately."
"People will know. It's better if we keep him here and maintain secrecy, it may well force his conspirators into a misstep that..."
"I said transport him. I gave you an entire day and you're not pushing me into two when you've had no results. Make it happen now, Ibiki. People are going to know. You were already monitoring our internal troublemakers when this occurred, correct? So we know it's not any of them directly. You're already chasing down our next best lead. It's been verified that he can't remember. Maybe my examination will turn something up. But let's not screw around until this turns into an autopsy." She shoved the papers at him to free her hands and ignored his frustrated sigh.
When she carefully lifted the hood, Gen cringed away from the sudden light, his feverish cheeks streaked and red. It seemed almost…fearful. The reaction was so out of place on her fierce, rock-hard soldier that she took a harder look to make sure it truly was Genma.
She waited to see if could adjust and get his bearings. His eyes were squeezed shut and it dawned on her that he was tensing for more of whatever he'd been enduring until she interrupted. Had he not heard her? Observing fresh blood in both ears, she spoke louder.
"It's me, Genma. The debriefing is over. I'm having you admitted to the hospital. We'll get you taken care of."
He didn't seem comforted and he didn't attempt to speak or acknowledge her. This was the opposite of what she had been led to expect. When she pulled the gatekeepers into her office for questioning, they both described him as remarkably normal and spirited.
And Ibiki had already reduced him to this. Surely he had noticed, at some point, that he was making far more of an impact than he should have been able to. What was that son of a bitch thinking? Never mind that the benefactor was still unknown; if this miraculous remission was negated by ham-fisted interrogation measures, she'd punish him this time for sure. He had to be reminded which geese were capable of laying the golden eggs. Shiranui's assassinations went at the highest prices on record this year. The one that looked to have ended his career was almost profitable enough to have been worth the price he nearly paid for it.
If he were cleared of treason yet unable to return to his work because if this carelessness, what good would that do?
She laid her hands gently on his cheeks, disregarding his flinch, to start channeling support for his metabolism. He was weak and the integrity of his neurological system had been dangerously disrupted with Ibiki's invasive measures, that she'd detected from clear across the room. Fresh healing was nothing to screw with, especially when they had no idea what method had been used.
When Ibiki slapped the papers on the counter and stalked out of the room, she made a mental note that she would need to discipline him this time regardless.
Xxxx
"Hi. You busy?"
"What do you want?"
"Ouch. I just came by to congratulate you. Belatedly. Um - you seem a little pissed."
Iruka's glare was dark and wilting.
'If that's all you came to say, then goodbye."
Kakashi reacted by putting out a hand just in time to keep the door from closing in his face.
"Whoa, Iruka, give me a chance here. If I've made you mad, let's talk about it, okay?"
Iruka bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling with anger. This person was to blame for the position he was in, more than any other. It all started when he killed Jeninki. He caused his worst mission fail in the eyes of Lord Danzou. He was instrumental in the psychic invasion that destroyed his last chance of full revival. He did it all for his own perverted pleasure without any regard for the importance of his Lord or his oath. This hollow, anguished, purposeless existence was largely his doing.
What kind of idiot perpetrated such indignity yet failed to see how enraging that would be?
"I don't want to talk to you."
Kakashi opened his mouth then shut it. Iruka was really upset; he seemed to be getting that emotion back in spades lately. At least it wasn't fear.
"Be better if you did, don't you think? At least tell me why you're angry."
"Don't pretend that you don't know."
"Ah. Well. You mean that thing with Hide. I'm not going to say that I'm sorry that I got in his face. But I am sorry if it upset you this much. Nothing happened after you left. I'm not going to do anything stupid. He just needs to know his place."
"And there's some reason you don't?"
"Come again?"
"You're the one who doesn't know his place. Are you really that dense? What makes you think it's always your place to interfere in my life?"
"He was…come on, he was using his jutsu on you again, right out in public, and I caught him red-handed. If you'd realized what he was up to, you would have stopped him yourself. Obviously you didn't know…"
"This is fruitless. I have to go." Iruka reached out and flicked the copy-nin's hand off of the door, slamming it shut without further comment.
Kakashi stepped back, hand still raised until he decided against banging to demand a second shot at an explanation.
He couldn't resist the urge to screen the house and the surrounding area. Unless they were doing some serious cloaking, no one else's chakra was inside. And for once, Hide's wasn't lurking in the vicinity, either.
What the hell. It'd be just his luck that he finally succeeded in warding off Ibiki's dogs, but at the price of creating a very serious rift with Iruka.
Worse, what if Hide had slithered back here straight from that little altercation and applied his influence in a different, more direct way?
Damn it. It would be a bad gamble to push this now, while Iruka was too infuriated to even engage him in an argument. He had to walk away with this unsettled and give him time to cool off.
That was going to make for a shitty evening.
Maybe it would do some good to take Tenzo up on his offer to hit up the bar tonight. He could find out what the wood-user's impartial opinion was about Iruka's behavior. If he had noticed anything when he was observing and stepping in that Kakashi did not.
Drinks sounded good. He could definitely use a few stiff ones.
Xxx
Iruka's hands worked the lock and the seals with vicious determination.
Stay out!
Go away!
Die!
He stormed back to the book that had been mutating before his very eyes, transforming from a useful tool into a mockery of his very existence.
He skipped the pen and went to the black marker. A hard flick of his thumb sent the cap flying to bounce across the floor, and held it crudely in his fist, ready to blot out the painstaking work of the last hour. To destroy the path that would bury him in lowly servitude. There was no fucking oath of honor or anything to find personal pride in here.
Danzou would laugh at him. No, he would be sickened, disgusted.
Teaching was dishonorable suicide. Plunging the metal marker into his own eye socket with sufficient force to impale his brain would be a far more noble destiny. The heat of his rage made that seem like a valid course of action, and he teetered on the brink of it until his grip grew so hard that the body of the pen split and collapsed, transformed into a wad of crushed metal and splattered ink.
As luck would have it, none of the black fluid ended up on the on the book his ire was aimed at. He threw the ruined pen down, struggling for lucid thought as the metal plinged across the tile. It was a stupid move and he didn't know why he chose to do it. He should get this off his hands, before it dried, and then see to the table, and now the floor.
Fuck.
Fuck!
He made it into the bathroom and jammed the switch on with his elbow, snarling at the face the sudden illumination revealed.
That face.
That fucking face!
He didn't need it. He didn't ask for it back. Danzou took him in without it. Everything that fell apart, fell apart because of their interference with Jeninki's gift of removing it.
He dug his fingernails into the side of his cheek, knowing full well that wouldn't really work, a person couldn't just rip their face off like a mask. Blood joined the smears of rapidly drying ink as he gouged his nails in anyway.
Iruka's smarmy, imperfect face was revolting in the extreme. It was unnecessary and unneeded, like the man himself. The body had been given to Even fairly and he had used it to prove his worth. Under his control it was strong and fearless, noble and fierce.
A hand ghosted over his, and despite the intensity of his emotion, he was suddenly stilled. A bucket of cold water, in the form of a tall, handsome stranger's chakra, washed over him, the true identity of that person seeping icily into his awareness.
No. Not you. No!
"Yes, me," Jeninki said softly, taking Iruka's punishing fingers away from his face and entwining them in his own, amused at the ink but shaking his head at the blood. "I'm glad I didn't hesitate any longer after your caller left. Oh, Even. I thought we'd settled all of this. You're a naughty little boy, do you know that?"
Their eyes had met in the mirror. It didn't take much, these days, to get inside this poor broken bird and take up the reins. There really wasn't all that much of Even still clumped together; but in Iruka's vulnerable state, it seemed it had been sufficient to overrun him.
And enough was enough.
Even was choking in an effort to speak. As much as he despised everyone and everything, he still had a survival instinct, and he recognized the grave threat Jeninki posed.
"You're quite the character. Danzou was very clever in crafting an operative in the form of his wildest fantasy. I imagine you came very close to being exactly what he wanted. But you're just a special moment in the life of a unique person who is quite precious to me. I'm not going to destroy or damage you. But you have to go back to the places you once belonged. He needs you to make that sacrifice. I know that it goes against your instinct for survival. I'm sure you've already realized that being fully dispersed is going to erase your sense of separate self."
Even managed to jerk forward, but the edge of the sink stopped him abruptly. Jeninki gripped harder, in a possessive, frustrated embrace.
"It's all right. Struggling is useless. I'm fighting my desires, too, you know. So many times I've come so close to taking Iruka with me, for my own reasons, but I gave him my word that I would respect his decision to abandon me. I won't torture myself with idea that you might ask for induction, just to spite him – so, one step at a time."
Jeninki hauled Iruka up and turned him around, locking eyes again, lifting him effortlessly.
He had to suppress the urge to do unspeakable, cruel things, ignoring the predispositions of his riled up host body. Awareness of the source of these desires made control possible, but it was by no means easy. It took all of his will power. His imagination kept slipping him hints of what the adorable face might look like creased in pain and terror, and the hunger to see it in reality was playing havoc with his body.
This was a great opportunity. Instead of just removing his traces to soothe Danzou's concerns, he would finish the job he started. Now that Even had thrown caution aside to make his final bid, everything was exposed in easy grasp. Iruka would complete the return to his original configuration this time for sure.
Even's thoughts were churning madly but his lips pressed tight. So close. He had come so close to returning to his lord and master. At least this crazed man was his master's closest friend. In a way, that made it more honorable to be erased by him. At least it wasn't the misery he had been doomed to otherwise, trapped like a slowly dying rat in the bowels of a filthy coward.
It didn't take much time or chakra. In a single breath all that was left of Even dispersed and his separate presence vanished. Jeninki made sure that all of the old traces of Danzou's chakra and tags were completely gone. He cleaned out that little speck of his own as well. News of the removal would please his cautious compadre.
The trance-like state induced for this inspection was a good one for his last step. Iruka would interpret it as a dream if Jeninki decided not to erase it from his memory.
He took his lost soul to the floor and let his body weight bear down, feeling, seeking. He used his lips. His teeth. His hands.
"I'm here. I won't stay long. But I still have some unfinished business with you. It's been a nagging regret all this time. I want to be linked to you forever in a more intimate way. I want it to be a fact that we were once united. So I'll have my little memento, and then I'll leave you to your life here. You just have to give me this."
It really didn't require any speech. Danzou's uncouth accusation of using the Uzingan to have his way without consent perhaps held a speck more truth than he cared to admit. Genma's exquisitely willing, if entirely mislead, farewell act of passion came to mind and convinced him there was nothing wrong with his method of catch and release. Pleasure was hardly the worst trick one could play on a deadly shinobi.
He used his techniques to prepare and manipulate the silent form beneath him.
While he understood and accepted the limited nature of the encounter, organically his host body was extremely dissatisfied with settling for a partner who could only experience a mechanical level of arousal and response. It fought him. It refused to be gentle. It sought repeatedly to apply pain and undue pressure. In the end, it nearly denied him.
He rushed to climax, yet barely in time to restrain his unruly hands from strangling the life out of his blue-lipped partner. It was too risky to keep going. Selfish thought it seemed, this quick, one-sided satisfaction would have to do.
Panting, he hurried to erase the evidence and reverse the damage before he lost control again.
One final check. He sank Iruka into deepest unconsciousness and scanned one last time.
Even was fully absorbed into the mainstream. No elemental traces of Jeninki nor Danzou could be detected. And he'd left all the other irritating little threads of non-native chakra embedded right where he found them, so that the Leaf operatives applying their influence would be none the wiser. He'd won this round definitively, taking the coveted spoils right from under all of their noses.
Erase the subconscious memory of this too, then?
No. This act linked them forever, warped as their encounter turned out to be. Iruka would think it harmless if disturbing, a harsh dream with deep meaning. And in a way, it really was.
Leaving him on the floor was fine. If he had a difficult awakening when this wore off, at least he wouldn't go tumbling out of bed.
Jeninki booped the silent sensei's nose and chuckled an affectionate farewell before teleporting away in stealth.
xxxx
"That was almost too easy," Ibiki said suspiciously, glaring at the cowering, defeated rogues. "Maybe he let himself get taken by these numbskulls on purpose."
"Well. He was definitely overwhelmed by numbers, not by talent. They were camping right out in the open and they weren't cloaked when we found them."
Raidou tolerated the dirt in his clothes without moving a muscle, much as he would have liked to shake it all off. The ANBU had left him just as they found him and didn't even dig him up until Ibiki arrived on scene and gave his approval. No one had treated his wounds or spoken to him directly other than giving him orders. His captors were rounded up, assessed, and released as he watched.
He was not handled gently when they transported him back. It seemed that his little game had been discovered. The tone in Ibiki's voice made his bowels quiver. The interrogation room was harshly lit and waiting for him when they arrived.
Hours passed under the glaring lights. He sat like a stone as directed, willing the pain and fear away just as he had when held captive. He was definitely in deep shit. His wounds had been exposed, measured, recorded and photographed but no attempt was made to actually treat them. They scraped his skin, took samples from under his nails, confiscated his clothes, snipped a lock of his hair.
He'd been offered, repeatedly, the chance to make a statement instead of waiting for the review, and he declined each time out of caution. Guilty people made statements, shinobi made reports, they were separate, distinct things; he knew that much. It was a pretty safe bet that they were testing him superficially, following some protocol. It all felt like prep. Once the physical scrutiny was complete, one of the businesslike examiners retreated from the room with the clipboard and camera used to document his condition.
It seemed like an eternity before the recipient of that data appeared. Raidou smelled Ibiki approaching in the hallway, his heightened senses vibrating in warning.
If only he'd been as good detecting those rogues. But his mind had been too fixed on his quest, and the wooded area was a complex mix of many, many chakra traces. The sterility here made it easy to pick out individual nuances. No one was wasting energy shielding their aura around a downed jounin, especially in a place like this.
As if to affirm his presence, Ibiki cleared his throat and let the heavy tread of his boots add to the suspense as he approached with a slow and deliberate stride.
Raidou had never been in a debriefing that was anything like this before. A blur of white cloth in his peripheral vision was all the warning he got before the needle slid into his arm.
"You have some explaining to do," Ibiki said tersely, his shadow appearing behind the glared of the bright lamp. "Take your time and consider your words wisely. If I bury you, it won't just be up to your neck. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Raidou said, managing to keep his voice steady.
"I have reviewed the egress report from the gate. Hunting, correct?"
What was the best answer? He had a tough decision to make. He shifted in the chair and tried to calm himself when the straps kept him firmly positioned. The liquid dripping in his arm was making him feel strange, but it wasn't helping with any of his pain. They were going hard-core right off. He'd been skeptical of stories about interrogation-style debriefing, and now it looked like he would have his own to tell.
"I was doing some practice tracking," he hedged.
"What kind of tracking?"
This was Ibiki. To lie to him was no small matter. The odds that he'd be able to fool him were slim.
"I was...I was practicing looking for lost people. I know I put hunting in the log and that's kind of misleading, but...it was just easier than explaining."
"And how'd that hunting – excuse me, tracking - go for you, eh? Find anybody?"
"Unfortunately all I did was get myself found."
"You went alone?"
Raidou nodded warily.
"Did you meet up with anyone? By design or by chance?"
"No."
"Were you planning to?"
"No."
"Were you practicing tracking any particular type of person or thing?"
Rai grimaced. Of course they knew who he'd be looking for, now that he'd said this much. The cat-and-mouse game was annoying, even in these serious circumstances.
"I've never stopped looking for him. Was I supposed to? It's not forbidden."
"Really. You can assign yourself your own missions now?"
"It wasn't..." Raidou scowled. "It wasn't so different from any other off-duty travel. But I'm not going to pretend that it's not on my mind. I don't divert from any of my missions. But I'm always alert for any sign of him."
"Well, that sounds a lot like borderline insubordination to me, but I guess I can be generous and let you spin it your way for now. It's a shame, though. All that trouble for nothing."
"What do you mean?"
"We know exactly where Shiranui is."
"You do? You found him? Where? How is he?"
"You tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"About him."
"I told you, I don't know."
"I think you do."
"I don't."
"Check him."
The white coat startled him when it brushed his hand; his pulse was taken, eyes checked, some poking and prodding. His injuries were more painful now, his skin more sensitive and reactive to touch. But his head was getting strangely light and heavy at the same time.
"He's fully infused," intoned the other voice. "At maximum level."
"All right then. So you say you don't know Shiranui's whereabouts?"
"I've never even come close to finding him. Old senbon are the only traces I've found."
"So you're saying you're clueless about his disappearance. From day one, you don't know a thing."
"I was there like everyone else. Just because I went in first doesn't mean I know more." Raidou's arm jerked up; his eyes itched like crazy. He wanted to rub them so badly.
"You knew about his plan, didn't you?"
"I knew the plan the Hokage approved."
"That's not the one I'm talking about."
"That's it. That's the only plan there was."
"Come on now. Who were you meeting when you left on your hunting trip if it wasn't about the plan?"
"I don't understand."
"Who else is in on it?"
"Looking for Genma? Is that what you mean? No one knew. I went alone."
"But you had no luck. Out loud, Namiashi. Don't just shake your head. Look at me. Did you have any luck?"
"No. No luck."
"And if I told you we knew where he was the whole time?"
"I don't know any other plan. I don't understand. You know where he is? If you know where he is, go ask him-" Raidou froze. He was off on a tangent and suddenly, he realized that Gen wasn't necessarily alive and able to talk just because his location was known. But that flew in the face of his stubborn heart, and he rejected it quickly. "No…I mean…"
"Ask him? Why do you think I would be able to do that?"
"Because you know where he is, you said it yourself."
"And what makes you so certain that he's alive?"
Raidou began to breathe hard. The interrogation drugs were making him sick to his stomach, and the pain from the untreated concussion was growing exponentially.
"Because I haven't given up!"
"Oh? That's so touching. I almost believe you."
"Do you really know where he is? Do you know what happened to him?" Raidou cried out. "Just tell me, please! I don't care if you lock me up or..."
"When is the last time you saw him?"
"You already know! It was at his place, the day he disappeared!"
"And you haven't seen him since. No messages."
"No!"
"No word from him?"
"No! I told you..."
Ibiki watched Inoichi from the corner of his eye, positioned behind and out of sight of the subject, and saw him nod. So this was all the truth as the subject perceived it, verified by the empath's mid-range technique in concert with the drugs.
One more stress test while the medication had him open and raw and in compromised emotional control.
"Then why...why would you continue to believe something so unlikely, so impossible? How would he have been able to slip away with everyone right there watching? You saw his condition. How did you talk yourself into swallowing that set-up?"
"Because he wouldn't do something like that! I trust him with my life! Please just tell me where he is!"
"All right. It sounds like you really do want to know."
"Shit. Yes! I do!"
"No matter what the reality is?"
Raidou was beyond words, nodding fervently, straining at the straps, soaked in sweat that mixed with blood from his dirty, weeping, aggravated wounds.
"All right. I'll tell you. The initial investigation was conclusive, clear back in the beginning when he staged his so-called disappearance. We found enough of his DNA on the scene to prove it. He opted to die by tag. All that other business was just to make everyone feel better. Though, he wasn't very bright, I guess. It was actually somewhat cruel."
"No," Raidou gasped, shaking his head. "That's not what...he wouldn't do that!"
"Well, he did. It was a close vote with the administrators, but because it was clearly his dying wish to leave behind that lie, it was allowed to stand. But I've had about enough of that bullshit. Now you've got the truth. And you can stop traipsing around on this wild goose chase. Your friend was a first-class dick. He pulled a coward's joke on everyone. It's time to let him go." Ibiki leaned into the light, adding the dramatic impact of his harshly lit image. "We'll add his name to the memorial stone and be done with it."
"No," Raidou breathed, doubling over, the nightmare complete. It was too much to take, with the pain and the drugs and Ibiki's scowling, unsympathetic face so close it was out of focus.
"You look awful," Ibiki observed. "Don't tell me you're so full of grief that you'd like to join him."
Raidou's bowed head was nodding before his conscious mind had a chance to process the question.
Ibiki's lips pressed together in a tight frown of frustration. They'd hit on the correct balance and type of drugs on the first go, and the results were unusually fast and comprehensive. Inoichi was getting better at this every time.
But the outcome was not at all what he'd hoped for. He straightened and flung out a hand in surrender, signaling Inoichi and the aide with permission to come forward to start providing medical care.
"All yours. I'm done. Wring him out a few more times just to be sure and then get his ass out of here."
Fuck almighty, Ibiki snarled in his mind. Unless the physical samples reveal something unexpected, this guy is as innocent as he is ignorant. No information at all, not one drop.
Struck out again.
xxx
Hide sailed over the wall and sprinted through the treetops, slowing to match pace when he caught up in visual range of the slowly plodding caravan.
The man in the serow mask appeared beside him and with a specific form of touch to his wrist and forearm, communicated how he expected Hide to perform his part at this stage of their covert escort mission. He pointed and nodded, and Hide did the same. Serow was more experienced but still relatively a rookie; he was a lot easier on Hide than the others, and they'd worked together without any mishaps before. Serow was naturally aggressive and had difficulty suppressing his instinct to protect and control his teammate; in a rookie, those traits uber-annoyed the seasoned veterans, who did not welcome interference or scrutiny of any kind.
But for Hide, Serow's invasive attention was almost welcome compared to the cold, disinterested attitude of the extreme loner persona so common among the ANBU under Ibiki's rule. When they were able to break from task, there was no going off alone. His partner made his expectations clear – Hide would be doing whatever Serow was in the mood for, be it working, resting, bathing, talking or whatever, from mission start to mission finalization at H.Q.
Hide assumed that Serow had a positive view of him due to his ability to synch and attain harmony with his co-worker's unique style and personality. He did not know yet if that would translate into an actual friendship beyond the working relationship, but if he made the effort to be just as accommodating in private, he felt that the statistical chance of achieving personal friend status was fairly high.
This assignment was an abrupt departure from his recent duties. In retrospect, he supposed that it really was a mistake to challenge Hatake in front of witnesses. Ibiki was most displeased, and his tirade was heated and to the point. Hide's ineptitude put Kakashi in a better position, not worse. The torture specialist embraced the tactic in theory. Goading the copy-nin into bad behavior was a good, solid concept. But as perpetrator, Hide should have taken pains to conceal his role. To be effective, the net result had to be an overt act of violence or at minimum, rule-breaking by Kakashi. But any evidence of provocation could nullify the usefulness of such an event.
Ibiki had a hand on his throat when he hissed that this outright belligerence in public was inexcusably amateur for someone of his background and skills. Hide had seen this mood before, but it had never been directed at him, even slightly. It was not so much terrifying as humiliating. A sign that he was falling far off the mark.
The smudge on his record would go against his rating as a field operative. Ibiki's continued refusal to delete him from the T&I technical staff roster worried him the most; he still got pulled back into the interrogation lab when they had truly difficult subjects the other men couldn't figure out how to prep. Occasional work of that type was leagues better than doing it every day, but the risk of returning to it full-time would always be there. He didn't dare screw up again where anyone would know.
Iruka had saved him before, no two ways about it. He could have exposed his failure and that would have been the end of it. But he didn't; Hide liked to think that it wasn't just self-interest that caused him to stay selectively silent. That warmth that Iruka projected, the rare and precious form of caring that was completely unique to his personality, felt like a gift given directly between souls. When Iruka let him off the hook, the gesture was so fraught with that form of regard that Hide dared to interpret it as suppressed affection.
Well, in cold reality, it was more likely that the warmth surrounding the gesture was the product of the big-hearted shinobi's natural flow of empathy, sympathy, perhaps even pity, but it was ok to interpret this private agreement between them any way he wanted to in the closed confines of his own mind.
He sorely missed being Iruka's shadow; if Ibiki's rant was any indication, he should probably accept that his official involvement was soon coming to a close. But that wouldn't keep him from worrying, and he wasn't going to stop keeping tabs on him informally. Iruka was starting on his new path and he did seem to be upbeat and doing well.
If the powers that be kept Iruka overworked with extremely low-risk, highly visible functions, that was good. If any of his unruly friends got out of line with him, it would not go unnoticed. He was safe and easily located at will. For Hide, that was the next best thing to being by his side. He would take a lesson from his last mistake and just make sure that his supervision continued covertly.
Still, it wouldn't be out of line to take him out for some ramen to celebrate his new position. He would wisely consent to it. Iruka would probably justify it to himself as keeping the peace and confirming that Hide would not sabotage his new direction. The plan would be to make the experience completely benign, civilized and pleasant. And then Hide would make it a point to get him to agree to go again now and then, just to maintain détente, and Umino would agree to this harmless concession. But perhaps on a deeper level, the desire for the two of them to be together would be nurtured just a bit more each time. And when that nasty jounin finally made a mistake that took him out of the running for good, he'd still have a foot in the door and be in the perfect position to capitalize on it. If it wasn't for that guy, none of this would have happened. If it wasn't for that guy, his abilities would have been 100% effective, and Iruka would have been his in every way. Hide, with his deep knowledge of human emotion and behavior, given free, unfettered access to Iruka, would be able to orchestrate a deep-seated dependency that would make him happy and keep him satisfied on a level that was heretofore inconceivable. The selfish jounin had derailed his experimental development of an idyllic relationship dynamic, but that path still existed. He was a far cry from giving up yet.
Serow rose higher into the treetops, shaking him out of his inner thoughts. Hide mirrored his movements, sharply aware of being monitored by those critical, discerning eyes. Surprisingly, a hand motion from his partner signaled approval of his quick response.
Hide supposed that it was good that the white porcelain hid his sudden blush and smile. Serow was surprisingly good company, on task and off.
Imagine that; earning a thumbs up from a full-fledged ANBU for his field performance.
Maybe life on the outside was kind of coming together; for once, he could feel a hint of it in his bones.
In the distance, a shadow with far greater skill followed them undetected, observing and biding his time.
xxxx
Yamanaka stretched and set the notebook down on the bedside table. His notes were complete enough. There just weren't enough clues to formulate a solid theory as to what had happened to Genma. He understood Ibiki's outrage. From a security standpoint, having the man healed and delivered back whole with as much mystery as when he was taken added insult to injury.
Whatever helpful elves they might be, their deceptive methods took a heavy toll on a lot of people, especially this man. Compounded by the brutality of the debriefing, his state of mind was the lowest of the low. They'd wrung him out again and again until the conclusion was obvious and irrefutable. He knew nothing of use. He was ignorant and innocent. He accepted the likelihood of their story whole in the end, and it dropped him hard. He lost consciousness while drowning in the crushing depths of that cruel lie.
Raidou was finally shaking off the drugs, safely contained between the raised rails of the bed. There was no way that a face so violently disfigured could ever look peaceful even in sleep, regardless of how old and benign the scars were in reality; but at least he was losing that scrunched, suffering expression, and his breathing was becoming more regular and quiet.
Though it was good news he was waiting to deliver, it was best to be cautious. Now that the focus was on care and recovery of a shinobi in relatively good standing, they allowed that the concussion was serious and the healing wasn't going to happen in a day. It wasn't wise to strain and excite the patient, and he couldn't imagine that Raidou would take this lying down.
In a kinder world, he could have arranged to have Raidou brought into consciousness slowly with Genma in the room to ease him into this revelation with joy and relief. But Genma had his own issues at the moment; and given the impression Ibiki left him with, mere words weren't going to easily convey the situation.
Raidou came into shaky awareness, immediately assessing the situation and surroundings as any good shinobi should, positively identifying Yamanka straight away.
Yamanaka sensed that his presence was not regarded as particularly comforting or welcome. Aside from the grueling nature of the situation, that was pretty normal. He was part of Ibiki's staff, and few looked upon him as a trusted comrade in arms on an emotional level. It eliminated him from the "buddy" category for all but a select few.
"I'm not here to continue the debriefing," he said quietly, starting off slow.
There was no reply. Raidou was squinting at the ceiling, holding his breath as the memories began to flow back in and fill the hazy spaces in his throbbing head. Gen was dead and he was interrogated about it. It didn't make any sense. If Gen had died months back, what was the point of the debriefing?
"I imagine you're thinking about that now. I'd like to interrupt before you think on those things too much."
Something in the tone of his voice made Raidou react. He tried to sit up and the pain in his head spiked, stalling his ability to respond.
"Easy, now. We need to chat for a while, so I'm going to try to help you to stay calm.
"It's okay," he managed slowly, controlling his breathing to hide the pain. "I'm calm."
"I want to set your mind at ease about something. You are aware of the mechanics of debriefing. Not everything said there is the unvarnished truth. Often the words that are used to investigate and test for truth aren't quite truth in themselves."
"He didn't die that day. I already know it."
"Oh?" Yamanaka fell back into investigation mode. "Can you explain how you know this?"
"I told you before. He would never do that to me. It may sound stupid to you. The way you manipulate and lie and twist people around, you don't have any idea what real trust means. But between us, there's no way. You can show me anything. Tell me anything. Drag out all the proof in the world. I know he didn't trick me. I'll never believe it. Ever."
"And you're sure he's alive?"
"I pray he is. Every day. I hope and I pray but…I do know it's possible that he isn't alive. He was in such bad shape. He was so ready to be done with it. I just hope that however it happened, if it happened, it was what he wanted."
"You're being quite open and honest with me. You're not even angry."
"You sounded like you were going to tell me something important."
"I am. You need to be a little patient and let me speak, though I'm sure you'll have questions. There won't be many that I'll have answers for. Are you ready?"
He watched Raidou's fingers dig into the sheets and grip the mattress as he nodded. This was as effective a torture as he'd ever seen. You couldn't hurt the man any deeper that the way he was suffering over this.
"Genma has been located and he is alive."
"Alive."
"Yes."
"Where…"
"Stop. Let me finish. He's here in the village under protective custody. His medical evaluation is incomplete but so far his condition is good. Between the two of you, he's actually in better shape physically."
"When can I see him?" Raidou's hands were pulling at the bed somewhat uncontrollably.
Calm was clearly off the table now.
"Hold on-"
"When?" he shouted, letting go and grabbing for the rail, ignoring the darkness eclipsing his vision and the rising pressure and pain in his head.
"We pushed you a little too far, I think," Yamanaka sighed, laying his hands on the patient's and sapping his strength away to keep him contained. Head injuries were so troublesome, the more powerful the shinobi, the more aberrant the behavior from the disruption of the normal thought pattern. Add stress and drug residuals and Ibiki's manipulations to the mix and the result was predictably unpredictable.
"Damn it…"
"Sorry. You need to stay down and rest. This is what's best for you. Try to relax. Even if you fight it, the result will be the same."
The energy deserted Raidou's limbs, leaving him helpless, artificially subdued.
"Just tell me - is he back in the hospital?"
"Yes. He's being well taken care of."
"Like I was? God, he's in such bad shape, what he must have gone through…"
"I want you to listen. You need to be calm. You'll be able to see him once he's been cleared for visitors, if – if you're well enough. You suffered head trauma and how soon you can withstand stress depends a great deal on how well you cooperate with medical advice."
"Head trauma. Head trauma," he repeated, cringing. "I just want to see him with my own eyes."
"I realize that. What I've said here is the truth and my word will have to do for now. Man up. You did this to yourself, you know. You shouldn't have been out looking for him on your own. You're lucky that there weren't any charges filed. For now, your injuries are being recorded as your punishment. It was downgraded from AWOL to leave abuse and there will just be a small fine. You can thank the Hokage for that kindness."
It didn't feel kind so much as unreal. Waiting was going to be unbearable. Not because he had no patience; but because he had no faith that this story was the truth this time.
Well, if it was a lie, then he'd just have to hurry and get well so that he could keep going out on missions and searching.
Still not giving up.
Still not enough evidence to feel any sort of relief.
Just words, and words didn't mean all that much.
"Yeah," he managed roughly. "Tell her thanks for me."
xxx
Iruka came to in a daze, but oddly, no pain. He rose unsteadily from the floor, hands out, not sure how he'd ended up passed out in the doorway to his bedroom.
The ink on his hands didn't resolve his confusion. He'd been angry enough to burst the pen in his hand, that much he knew – but then it was all a blur. It scared him. This was Even's work. His cheek was tender and swollen where his fingernails had bitten into the skin. It made him waver before he decided it was worth the risk to look in the mirror. He'd lost it big time this go-around, the world had turned crimson and black and...
And he guessed that he hurt himself and ended up passing out.
It was okay, though. Looking in the mirror hesitantly, he seemed to be okay. Another long look and he sighed. He'd made some pretty bad marks, but nothing he couldn't heal passably enough on his own. The ink would be a pain to remove manually at this point. Well, one of his old skills from Academy days was going to come in very handy right off the bat. He made the ink disappear with a simple series of three handsigns. The sores that remained nearly disappeared in the glow of his first aid jutsu.
Well, that fixed the evidence. But what about the actual event?
He swallowed hard and made his way back to the kitchen, knees nearly buckling. He caught himself on the edge of the table and leaned against it, making the cleanup here in the same way as his body. The pen was ridiculously mangled. There was no denying how crazy he'd been at that moment.
And to top it all off...Kakashi. Shit. He'd given him a face-full, all right.
He wasn't even mad at him. He understood what he was trying to do with Hide, and why. Heavy-handed was his style. That wasn't going to change overnight, no matter how much the copy-nin wanted to help, and Iruka recognized that. Hide wasn't being any better.; if anything he'd provoked the whole thing.
Another dream of Jeninki, too – this one was one of the sickest. All of his mental health issues coming to a nice, full, rolling boil.
Maybe it was his inner mind trying to warn him. Maybe it wasn't smart to take up a career where you had to pass yourself off as a good example to children in the midst of suffering a complete nervous breakdown.
But if signs and omens were showing him the way, he could take it as a positive that for all the mess he just made, none of it got on the planner. It was as if it were protected somehow. A little island of sanity in the tidal wave of his total loss of same.
He picked it up and nodded, re-reading his work for reassurance. It was better than good enough. It was lucid and expert and well-written. None of the crazies leaked into the work itself. This was his comfort zone. This was still the right path.
He sat heavily and let his head fall to the table, wondering just how the hell he was going to deal with this when it happened again next time.
xxxx
"You did not specify that it be someone from outside of the village. Both of these men meet the criteria you specified. Please look at the research."
Danzou frowned but Sai spoke the truth. Right under their noses, these young men were in easy reach, well-analyzed, fully vetted through physical examination and field-testing. Sai's very capable infiltration of their personnel and medical files bore him out. They had but to choose which one.
He pulled the color images side-by-side. Osahi, dubbed Serow, was far closer to the body type Jeninki seemed to prefer; dark, tall, physical, moderately attractive in a straightforward sort of way. Hide...for some reason, there was no ANBU animal code-name in the records here...was a different-looking fellow, light hair, boyish features, tall as well though a little on the lean side. Neither was hard on the eyes, certainly not to the point where Jeninki would rule them out.
Serow's innate visual acuity was at the top of his listed skills. Hide's field skills were not yet listed, pending evaluation. He flipped to the clipped sheaf of additional pages, where he found Hide's non-ANBU T&I records. High marks for intelligence and intuition, stamina and reliability. That was acceptable as well.
"You were thinking outside of the box," Danzou said sharply, lifting his head to assess Sai's demeanor. "That's not like you."
"The criteria led to the conclusion. No error or circumvention of instruction was intended."
Danzou sighed. Well, Hide was one of the men Ibiki used to track Iruka, and that personnel choice made more sense now given his occupational experience and skill set. But maybe that duty was being phased out? Interesting.
"They're assigned in the field together?"
"Only intermittently. Recordation has them out four times together, total. Out of the six missions observed during the timeframe, only once were they were out in a pair. The others all involved other teammates. Here is the transcribed team roster from the past twelve weeks."
"If we take partners, that would be better. When a team disappears, that can get written off pretty easily as a mission failure. One man gone, anything could have happened. But the whole team? Well, if neither makes it back, they'll assume things took a turn for the worst. However we do this, if the selectee is on a mission, all parties in the team will have to be acquired."
Sai stared without expression and battled his conscience. He had now staked out victims within his own village. Naruto and Sakura did not like him, but they had no idea just how much there was to dislike. Their words implied that he should choose to do the right thing even when his superiors ordered otherwise. They ran amok at times simply indulging in their own will. Yet all his life he obediently supported any order this man gave him without question.
Well, it wasn't like he could tell anyone. The seals within his body assured his silence and loyalty despite any hopeless notion of rebelling for the greater good. And Danzou always told him that while his methods were harsh, his goal of bettering the village was the only thing of importance here, beyond ego and the petty need to be viewed as 'good' or 'honorable' or what have you.
"You've done well. Bring me their schedules continuously, so long as you can get them without anyone knowing. Keep tabs on our most promising men. I want to know where they are if we're forced to move ahead of schedule."
Danzou waved him off, blithely indicating he was to leave without their usual training session. Sai bowed and teleported away, strangely void of disappointment at the early dismissal.