Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ What He Wants ❯ Part 6 ( Chapter 6 )

Part 6

 

Iruka has never found the presence of ANBU particularly comforting outside of the field. Aside from the anonymity, the reticence, the clawed gloves and the superiority of skill and power, those damned masks just creep him right the fuck out. However, after chasing Pakkun across street after gloomy, rainy, ghost-cumbrous street through the Uchiha compound, those eerie white masks peering from under lightweight black cowls are positively cheering.

 

They are clustered around a small, unremarkable one-story house that looks exactly like a hundred others Iruka just passed. He approaches the milling ANBU with less trepidation than he would have expected, under the circumstances, but the house looks far too innocuous for his liking. At least the rain is stopping, but the sky is still ominous; it's more likely a lull than a cessation.

 

The ANBU part as he approaches the front door, most offering him a bare nod as acknowledgement of his puny existence, but not one of them says a word. They all know why he's here, he knows why he's here, who needs something as inconsequential as human interaction?

 

The thought sparks a recollection of Kakashi telling him about being in ANBU, just two weeks ago or so. “When you put on the mask,” he'd said, “you lay aside who you are, what you are, who you know, what your entire life has been up to that point. You are a blank slate upon which only your mission can be written. It has to be that way. Some of the things ANBU are asked to do…they can't be done by a human. Even a tool might balk. They have to be accomplished by either a complete nonentity, or someone with such a decayed soul that it might be something they'd do anyway. That's just the way the ninja world has been set up. Every country has to have nins who can do the unspeakable.”

 

Kakashi had refused to go into anything he himself had done in ANBU, and Iruka hadn't pushed, but he had no doubt Kakashi had done things that would send hardened jounin screaming for their mommies. Kakashi had been in ANBU for years, after all.

 

Iruka abruptly remembers that his memories can't be trusted, and he shoves the realization impatiently aside. It doesn't matter right now, and besides, the content of the memory rings true enough.

 

His step hasn't faltered as he approaches the door, and once he reaches it he looks down at Pakkun. The pug is looking up at him with half-lidded eyes that look so much like Kakashi's that he almost laughs. Controlling the urge, he says, “Just push some chakra into the door?”

 

Pakkun nods. “That's what the man said.”

 

Iruka's eyes flit to the nearest ANBU, who is staring at him. Maybe. It's hard to tell through that stupid mask. He focuses on the door again, and raises his hand, pushing his palm flat against the wood. He concentrates, guiding his chakra out, just a little at first, then more and more. He is about to ask Pakkun if he knows how much chakra he's supposed to emit, or for how long, when there is a sensation like a lock being snicked open under his palm. He draws back, looking down at Pakkun uncertainly. “Er, is that it?”

 

“That's all you can do, yeah, door's open now and you can go insi—hey, wait, buddy, you don't wanna do that!” Pakkun calls, addressing an ANBU who is moving forward and reaching for the doorknob as Iruka hurries out of his way.

 

The man is too fast for Pakkun's warning—Iruka decides he must be new and not nearly paranoid enough—and before the dog gets the last word out, the ANBU has put his hand on the knob and opened the door, which swings inward. The ANBU suddenly yanks his hand back, the eyeholes in his mask fixed firmly on the extremity. Iruka is close enough to see what has happened, though his brain has a hard time processing it.

 

The part of the ANBU's hand that crossed the threshold of the doorway simply isn't there anymore.

 

There's no blood, there are no squirming fingers on the doorstep. Just an ANBU with half his thumb missing and the rest of his hand gone from just below the knuckles up, no fingers at all anymore. The wound seems to be completely cauterized, looking for all the world as though it's been that way for weeks.

 

Distant thunder is the only sound for a few seconds, and then Iruka explodes. Whirling on Pakkun, he snarls, “Didn't you just say that I'd disabled the traps? What the fuck was that?!” Around him the ANBU are examining their injured comrade, and one whose red scarf shows like blood against her throat orders him to the hospital, then orders a few others to start investigating this strange trap, and she probably gives some more orders but Iruka's head is spinning. Was this whole thing Kakashi's idea of a joke?

 

“Calm down, Sensei,” the summon growls. “I was trying to explain when that hotheaded puppy decided he was going to jump the gun. I thought for sure there was an I.Q. standard for ANBU, but apparently I was wrong. He probably only got his job because you guys are short-staffed. What I was saying was, it's safe for you to go inside. Just you, Iruka-sensei, no one else. That last trap jutsu will keep anyone else out, no matter what entrance they try to use. Well, other than Kakashi and us. The pack, I mean.”

 

Iruka can feel veins in his forehead throbbing, and wouldn't be surprised if he has a facial tic or three developing. “You might perhaps have mentioned that earlier, Pakkun-san,” he hisses.

 

“Hey, don't get so sore at me. It's not like we've had a lot of time for explanations. And that ANBU guy probably won't ever be so reckless again, eh? Whether he stays in ANBU or not. He might have screwed up and been killed somewhere else, right?”

 

They're interrupted by the ANBU captain. “Pakkun-san, how do we disengage this trap?”

 

In a very amusing human gesture, Pakkun sits back on his hind legs, spreading his forepaws wide while shrugging. “I got no idea, Captain. I don't think the boss meant for anyone to turn it off. But it's okay; I can lead the sensei to the scrolls.”

 

“No, you can't,” the captain says, her voice even. “Morino-sama specifically instructed us that no one is to touch the documents except ANBU.”

 

“So make the sensei an ANBU. Problem solved,” Pakkun says, and once again Iruka can't tell whether the dog is joking or not.

 

“Impossible,” is the flat, predictable response.

 

“Well, that's the easiest solution you're going to get, other than letting Iruka-sensei and me go and get the job done. I swear, you humans have to make everything so complicated.”

 

The captain turns to Iruka, and he is close enough to see her eyes flashing through the slits in her mask. “Do not enter the premises of this domicile for any reason, Umino-san.” She turns away and he can hear her commanding someone to report to Ibiki and inquire for further instructions.

 

“Damn, I hope this doesn't take all day,” Pakkun grumbles. “I haven't eaten, you know. I might pass out.”

 

“I wish I could help,” Iruka says absently, more from reflex than anything. He stands against the wall and slides down it, reaching out to scratch Pakkun behind the ears.

 

Pakkun harrumphs, but leans into the touch, almost like a cat.

 

The rain has started pouring down again in earnest by the time the ANBU returns, and someone has cast a shielding jutsu to keep the rain off the ANBU who are studying the house. Iruka and Pakkun are close enough that the jutsu shields them as well, and Iruka is grateful for small blessings.

 

Ibiki arrives in person, teleporting in without a noise or a hint of smoke or leaves, bells or whistles, apparently concerned about the trap jutsu. He doesn't even spare Iruka a glance as he passes by to join the ANBU who are reexamining the perimeter. Iruka shivers as he hears the head of T&I get into a hissed argument with the ANBU captain and the rest of the trap specialists. Ibiki seems unusually rattled, and Iruka wonders if it is because of Kakashi. He doesn't think the two of them are close, but they've known each other for a very long time.

 

He's probably being silly. Just because Kakashi has Iruka rattled doesn't mean he's the rain on anyone else's parade.

 

After several excruciating minutes, Ibiki storms over to where Iruka is crouched near Pakkun. Iruka stands up, raising an eyebrow because Ibiki is glaring ferociously at Pakkun, who stares steadily back even though he's curled in on himself a little.

 

“I don't like this,” Ibiki says after a moment. “This whole business is bullshit.”

 

The dog looks like he's about to make a smart remark, so Iruka quickly says, “Has there been any progress, Ibiki-san?”

 

“No, there hasn't. In fact, things are worse than I'd initially thought they were. After further questioning of Hatake, I've found out that not only are you the only person that can get in there right now, but the same jutsu that prevents anyone else from getting in will destroy the scrolls if anyone attempts to remove them.”

 

Iruka gapes.

 

“'At's why I `ave `ish,” pipes a voice from around their ankles, and Iruka looks down to see Pakkun holding a slim camera in his mouth, presumably retrieved from inside his little blue vest.

 

“Is there anything else we should know, Pakkun?” Iruka bites out, thoroughly perturbed now. He can feel that thin blue edge of anger rising again.

 

Pakkun tucks the camera out of sight again before responding. “Hey, I woulda told you that before you tried to take the documents.” The dog is unrepentant.

 

Ibiki grinds his teeth audibly, shocking Iruka into silence. He hasn't had much contact with the man before, but he knows that for him to be showing such a telling sign of frustration bodes very ill indeed. He hopes whoever it bodes ill for isn't himself, but the way things are turning out, it seems unlikely it'll be anyone else. “Umino-san, you are to follow Pakkun directly to the documents, photograph each and every one completely and clearly, and then you will report directly here to me with the camera ASAP. Understood?”

 

Iruka blinks. “You're actually going to let me go in there? To retrieve sensitive documents, somewhere you can't follow, not knowing what Kakashi-san has done to me?”

 

Ibiki's eyes narrow, laser-piercing, and his scarred face seems to gain hundreds of years' worth of wisdom and ugly experience, like someone who has been fighting a bloody war since time out of mind. Iruka's blood freezes. He can't control the chattering of his teeth, though he keeps his knees from buckling and doesn't flinch away from the gaze.

 

Finally the intensity fades from Ibiki's face, and he merely says, “Don't question me, kid.”

 

Iruka can't remember what his objections were anymore, anyway. Ordinarily he'd chafe at being called `kid' by someone who's only a couple of years older than he is, but the feeling of having barely escaped the jaws of some nameless ancient beast washes away his pique. He hopes to never again face such telling evidence that Ibiki is very, very good at what he does.

 

Ibiki lets out a little sigh, and smiles. It is a tiny smile that actually reaches his eyes, and makes his rugged, scarred face look almost gentle. Iruka the shinobi is instantly wary as Iruka the human relaxes. The master interrogator lays a hand on Iruka's shoulder, speaking too softly for anyone other than Pakkun to hear. “I've just spent all day yesterday and half of last night questioning Hatake, and I've also known him for a lot of years. I know how he operates. Even though these latest stunts are a bit out of his normal scope, he's essentially the same. It is my professional opinion that Hatake would not deliberately put you in a situation that would be physically harmful to your person.”

 

Iruka doesn't want Ibiki to think he is questioning the man's judgment again, but he can't help voicing his concern. “He could have planted suggestions in my head that would cause me to commit treasonous acts, or cause harm to others, couldn't he?”

 

Ibiki's gentle smile grows predatory. “Either of those would most definitely put you in a situation that would be physically harmful to your person, and believe me, I'm sure he's accounted for that.”

 

Iruka nods, not sure whether that makes him feel better or not.

 

The hand on his shoulder gives a light squeeze and drops away. “Now, quit stalling and get to work, shinobi,” Ibiki says, turning away and walking back to the ANBU captain, who begins speaking in low, urgent tones and gesturing to the house and Iruka.

 

Iruka decides he should just ignore everything except the task at hand. It's not a mission in the conventional sense, but it certainly calls for mission-focus.

 

“Ready now, Iruka-sensei?” says a voice by his feet, nearly startling him into grabbing a weapon. He sighs as he realizes that he's definitely got to improve his focus if he's already forgotten about Pakkun. Having just received a lot of personal attention from the head of T&I is no excuse for carelessness.

 

“I'm ready. Lead the way,” he says, proud of how confident he sounds.

 

Pakkun slips through the entranceway, nudging the door all the way open as he goes. Iruka's heart nearly stops when the first paw passes the threshold, but then the dog is inside and blinking back at him. “Coming?”

 

Iruka approaches the doorway and tries not to quail. The image of the ANBU silently staring at the remains of his hand won't leave his mind. He slowly sticks out a finger and pushes it through the doorway as the ninken snorts. There isn't any sort of reaction at all, no flare of chakra, no change in air pressure or density, nothing at all to indicate that he's standing right in front of perhaps the most deadly trap he's ever come across. He pushes his whole hand into the house, then his arm, and then finally just walks inside. Pakkun snorts again and he glares.

 

“You all there, Sensei?” chuckles the pug.

 

“Are you that unobservant?” Iruka retorts.

 

The ninken sniffs haughtily and begins walking away, and Iruka follows.