Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Recherche	By : Eggburtshamslice Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kakashi/Iruka Views: 4188 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto nor do I make any profit from this work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Recherché: Routines and Revelations

A civilian stumbled upon the latest victim - frantic, he beat down the front door of the Chief Inspector’s home. Routine. But no ordinary deceased was she; her family’s pedigree predated Konoha’s founding, their social standing, higher than the stars in the welkin. And then, there was the voluble Coroner; chock full of cheesy grins and fallacious expectations. Routine. Now, a summons to appear before the Governor; with a winsome escort to guarantee prompt attendance, she’d also record what promised to be an ear-blistering, ego-deflating reprimand. Routine.
Could this morning get any worse?
“Well, the Governor’s mood was … unreadable,” he heard her say. “At least she wasn’t cursing a blue streak when I left … that’s a good sign, right?”
“Hard to tell. Lady Tsunade is a woman of mercurial temperament, Shizune.   Starting to think I picked the wrong week to quit smoking.”
A heartening touch to the tip of his shoulder, a wan smile and the intendment of comfort shone in her eyes. But nothing she could say or do now would make him believe this meeting would end better than his carefully laid, perfectly executed and completely empty trap had last night. Perhaps, nothing would satisfy the restless feeling, deep inside. Revelation.
As they turn the corner and step over the threshold of the squad room, they were swept into a vortex of sight, sound and smell; splashed down in a sea of dark blue uniforms, the officers navigate crooked paths around them like frothy waves. Flotsam and jetsam of superfluous conversation, boisterous jesting and spirited laughter sprung up from scratched, dusty floorboards; clambering through the windows, briny breezes scatter the tang of bay rum, unwashed, sweaty men and fragrant pipe tobaccos over them ...
Guess I was wrong, he thought.
It was rare when the noise level in this room rose above a dull roar, paydays being the exception, of course. The duties of a constable kept them outside these brick and mortar confines, attendant upon keeping the peace, they worked and moved with the pace of the people. Settling the occasional squabble between neighbors, rounding up kids playing hooky or stealing fruit from vendors – that sort of thing, their constant presence used to be a source of security for the people . . . now it was just a reminder of how fragile and uncertain life was. But this morning, it looked like every uniformed officer on the force had shoehorned themselves in the building.   On the brink of chaos, Ibiki felt himself stand taller. Yes, this was his brand of normalcy and these men . . . his saving grace.
I see … leaning on one another, they rebound from malaise, providing the unspoken support which the public cannot.
Hope, feeble at first, stirred in the corner of his heart. They haven’t given up … why should I?
To his right, about fifteen feet away from the watch commander’s desk assembled the usual complement of assorted, but harmless nuts. A concerned citizen’s choir singing a familiar refrain of questions, their voices modulating in harmony as they ridiculed the constable’s mental competency and railed against the inept handling of a homegrown horror. In between stanzas of this oft heard medley, was the childlike reprise begging for assurance of their continued safety. Routine.
To his left, at the far end of the squad room, four constables stood between a disgruntled merchant and an offended ship’s captain.   A loud, vulgar dispute centering around delivery of damaged goods and refusal to pay for said items. Routine.
Exhausted from last night’s excursion into futility, a crooked line of civilian patrol members, propped themselves against the wall nearest the restroom behind the desk sergeant’s area. Some of them were watching the show put on by the merchant and the seaman, others dozed off right where they stood, all of them waiting to receive a chit for their service.
Lastly, seated at a desk nearest him was a broken hearted elderly woman weeping into her apron; she was another regular. Her fourteen year old grandson snuck out of the house late last night as was his habit. The wringing of worried hands would eventually become the shaking of an angry gnarled finger when the boy finally turned up -- unharmed and apologetic. Seems the kid had an appetence to watch longshoremen load and unload cargo by the light of a full moon. Routine.
Wending through the roiling sea of people, having lost Shizune somewhere along the way, Ibiki stopped to snatch a cigar off a desk nearest the front door; this too had become part of his routine.
At first, it seemed the wizened, balding man behind the desk hadn’t noticed the blatant theft, too occupied was he in sorting through a small mound of paperwork. But without warning, the older man lazily slapped away the hand hovering over a small box of matches before Ibiki could grab them as well.
“You’ll have to be a mite faster than that Ibiki,” he chuckled. “Besides, I thought you and tobacco parted ways some time ago.”
“Ryota, a fine cigar, that’s been dipped in cognac, is a necessary evil for me,” Ibiki said. “And a successfully pilfered, fine cigar that’s been dipped in cognac, tastes a thousand times sweeter. You wouldn’t understand old-timer; I have a love/hate relationship with tobacco, almost like the one you have with doing paperwork.”
Takenaka Ryota – this man had been a constable since Ibiki was in knee-britches; he’d trained just about everyone in this squad room, Ibiki included. Because of his keen, analytical mind, no nonsense disposition and exceptional leadership skills, he was sought after to fill the post of Commandant each time the position was vacated; he chose instead to remain as commander of the watch that he might share his wisdom and experience with each new generation of law enforcement personnel.
Over the years, he became a confidante, a mentor and an unstoppable fount of encouragement when the pressures of the job became too great and one who wouldn’t hesitate to give him a swift kick in the pants.
“You’ll get the matches, as soon as I get your signature on these,” he said, fanning out several documents before Ibiki. “And if you do it without grumbling, I’ll give you some ginger candy to settle your stomach.”
It felt good to laugh, for Ibiki had little time to do that sort of thing over the last few days. “How could I resist, especially when you phrase it as a bribe?” Just as he was about to sign another overtime request, someone bumped into him from behind. Given the amount of people in this place, that wasn’t surprising; but this was no accident. He turned to see Hagane Kotetsu high-tailing it out the front door. A curious glance to the left and there stood Genma speaking with Umino and Kamizuki near the seating area in the middle of the room. Probably giving them directions to the Fire Temple, he thought. “Ryota … see those men talking with Shiranui over there?”
“Yeah … what about ‘em?”
“Assign a team to keep an eye on them.” With two pieces of candied ginger and the match box now in his possession, he leaned closer. “I want to know where they go and what they do from the time they walk out of here until the time they leave the territory. Understood?”
“Wait a minute, I was the one who took them to your office this morning ... they seemed okay to me.   What do you think they’re up to?”
Ibiki shook his head. “Not sure … just keep ‘em under surveillance until I say different. Got a meeting with the Governor--”
“Figured as much. Just so you know, a civilian patrol found skeletal remains scattered in a forest clearing last night. My guess is they belong to a hunter; poor bastard either dropped dead of natural causes or got mauled by a bear. I sent Raidou and Aoba to investigate.”
“Hmm . . .” Ibiki murmured rolling the tip of the appropriated cigar over his tongue. “Do me a favor, pull up the--”
“Way ahead of you.   I’ve got every missing person report filed since January of last year right here,” he said pointing to a thick manila folder.
“Good …. but mums the word. Governor’s gonna be all over me like ugly on a gorilla about the Hyuga girl, I don’t need any more rumors flying around--”
“Got it; in the meantime, I suggest you get over to the Administrative complex on the double. Our Governor isn’t a patient woman and I’m sure you don’t want her to come looking for you.” Sorting the signed documents into smaller piles, Ryota inclined his head toward the weeping grandmother. “Oh, and if you’re looking for your escort, she’s standing over there.”
After catching her attention with a wave of his hand, Shizune gave the old woman a warm hug and hastened toward him. “That poor woman,” she said as Ibiki grabbed her by the elbow and guided her toward the door. “It’s just so sad.”
“That grandson of hers needs to dance to the tune of a hickory switch a couple of times -- that oughta straighten him out.” Chucking the matchbox at Ryota’s head, he called, “Thanks again old man."
The smell of sulfur made his nose twitch and the tiny puff of smoke blowing back into his face made his eye water a happy tear. Thick blue grey smoke danced around on his tongue with that first inhalation, delivering a jolt of nicotine, soon he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. He heard himself give an involuntary sigh of content despite the disapproving look in Shizune’s eyes as he emerged from a columbine haze.
“If you need a few minutes to unwind,” she said gesturing to his cigar and the dissipating brume around him, “I don’t mind waiting.” She stood apace as he hurriedly puffed away. “Lady Tsunade understands how busy your morning’s been and I’m certain she won’t fuss too much if we--”
“Tempting, but I’d rather get this over with as soon as possible.”
The people milling about in the plaza parted before them as they walked, many bowing their heads in deference to Shizune; the sad eyed smiles or angry glowers were reserved for and directed at him – again, this was another facet of normalcy.
“By the way, Hitomi’s father and his lawyers have already met with the Governor this morning.”
Ibiki rolled his eyes and took another long drag.
Having arrived at the Administrative complex sooner than he wanted to, he leaned against the building with a weary sigh, stubbing out his cigar against the bottom of his boot and tucking it away in between two widely spaced bricks.
In contrast to the noisy constabulary and the lively plaza, once they stepped inside the interior double doors and into the foyer of the Administrative offices, the place was as quiet as a tomb. It smelled fresh in here too; the fragrance of frankincense still loitering in the air, weaving a lattice of tranquility long after the monks had given their daily blessing upon this office.
He’d traversed the glossy inlaid floor bearing Konoha’s seal -- a spreading sugi tree, with such frequency these last few months that he could almost feel where each bough of the tree bifurcated under the soles of his boots. To the right was an area, a small museum really, which housed artifacts, relics and brief historical sketches of Konoha’s progress through the years; this was the place where dignitaries were entertained as they waited to meet with the Governor. Portraits of the men who established and settled the territory hung from mahogany paneled walls, each of them smiling down on the plush leather upholstered chairs and the hand loomed carpets of silken threads that overspread sections of freshly waxed cedar floors.
On the left side of the space was a large seating area for the public; it’s surprisingly comfortable wooden chairs neatly organized in a semicircle, providing room for people to congregate and chew the fat while they waited to file or receive copies of vital records. Large, terracotta pots filled with indigenous plants, wildflowers and dwarf trees were arranged before floor to ceiling windows that opened onto the plaza.
Straight ahead, a massive orbicular reception and hospitality desk separated the accommodation areas from the great hall and the Governor’s private suite of offices. Of the five clerks assisting the people, all but one of them turned their backs as he approached – only the robust, oily faced woman smiled benevolently when she caught his eye. This too was something that shaped the routine of these past months.
Deftly steering him away from the sharp clucking tongues of the clerks, Shizune ushered him into a conference room beside the reception area. This room, with its knotted pine walls was usually where he spent his time, watching Lady Tsunade pace alongside the conference table, listening to her curse up a storm over his inability to collar a killer even as tears streamed down her cheeks.
But when Ibiki moved to take his customary seat, Shizune waved him off. “Oh, no, no Inspector, Lady Tsunade wishes to speak with you in her office.”
Crap, that wasn’t a good sign.
The Governor’s private office was where the rich and powerful met to broker agreements, sign concords of peace or trade agreements between nations and exchange meaningless blandishments over premium sake and rich food. The last time he was in there was the day of his appointment as Chief Inspector; how fitting to end his career in the same place it began.
“That you, Ibiki? Come on in,” he heard the Governor say in response to Shizune’s rap on the door.
She had her back to them when they walked in and Ibiki was stunned to see her looking like this. Long blonde hair tumbled in loose waves down the back of a forest green haori; it was usually piled high on her head and held in place by ornately lacquered pins. The black hakama and the low-heeled slippers she wore meant either there were no official events on her calendar today, or she’d been roused from her bed in much the same way he’d been. She turned to face him with a cheerful smile, not the scowl he expected, a small book in her hand and a pince-nez resting on her nose. She almost looked pleased to see him.
That had to be a bad omen.
A light dusting of rouge tinted impossibly high cheekbones, her eyes, bright and saffron yellow twinkled above flawless, smooth skin, ecru in color like raw silk. Hard to believe the woman he was looking at was rumored to be in her mid-fifties. Tall and not as willowy as her assistant, she still cut a figure envied by women half her age.
“Morning ma’am.”
“Hope you’re hungry because I ordered a massive breakfast. Be a dear, Shizune and fetch it for us please. Go on Ibiki … have a seat.”
He wasn’t sure what to make of this gracious welcome, but did as instructed, warily sitting on the edge of a plump cushioned chair.
Her glasses swung from a sterling silver and ebony brooch as she walked toward him. “Can’t imagine your day started any better than mine did; had to deal with Hyuga Hiashi and his solicitors first thing … you know how much fun that usually is. They left about half an hour ago, outraged of course,” she said, taking the seat across from him. “Wanted your resignation or failing that … your head on a pike. Tea?”
“Yes, please,” he laughed. “Can’t say I’m surprised, ma’am.”
“Underneath the righteous indignation, I could see Hiashi was disconsolate; blames himself more than you for what happened.”
There was another light rap at the door before Shizune entered with a silver tray weighed down with several small dishes and another pot of tea. She gave Ibiki one of her encouraging smiles and an extra helping of steamed rice before quietly exiting.
“So, how are you and your men holding up?”
“Rather well ... all considered.”
“Liar ... you look like you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet, Ibiki,” she joshed gathering up a helping of tarako with ivory chopsticks. “The only criminal activities your men encounter are pickpockets and scam artists during the festivals, and the only violence they see comes from breaking up fights in the watering holes near the docks.” Cupping a small soup bowl under her nose, she inhaled deeply and sighed. “And then there’s the occasional disturbance at the cathouse . . . err, pardon me, the boarding house,” she said, lowering the bowl and reaching for a spoon. A sip of creamy miso soup elicited a groan of delight. “That’s about as politically sticky as anything they’re accustomed to, am I right?”
Ibiki nodded.
“And we both know why the ‘cat house catalogs,' aren’t included in official police blotters, don’t we?”
“The boarding house generates substantial revenue,” he said around a mouthful of omelet. “Most of that income derives from the arrangement of liaisons for visiting dignitaries as well as for Konoha’s upstanding and very married men.”
“Look … I know these murders are taking a toll on you and your men. Their morale dips lower month by month as they fail to protect the people against a force unseen and unknown.” The ceramic spoon came to rest atop the empty soup bowl. Rising from the table, she walked back to her desk. “I know you, Ibiki … you’d lay down your life for the people if a situation called for it." When she turned to face him again, she held the little book tightly in her hands. “I know you’ll leave no stone unturned to find the man responsible but--”
“I’m grateful you let me keep my job and my head, but I’m most appreciative of your impeccable timing … drew me out of three very exasperating situations it did.”
“Is that so? I know keeping you and Hiashi separated was one,” she said draping her napkin over her lap, “and the other two were--?”
“Being talked to death by the Coroner and getting me out of a maddening meeting with three young men. They just arrived in the territory last night …seemed intent on frittering away my time with tall tales and an ancient picture book.”
“Should be used to that sort of thing by now,” she said flipping pages in her own book beside her plate.   “At least tell me you’ve developed some leads on our murderer.”
“Nothing solid yet ma’am, however, we did find skeletal remains in the forest last night and I--”
“Damn,” she said, slamming the book closed. “Now we have nine victims?”
“Probably just an unfortunate hunter. Once Genma’s analyzed the remains, I’ll give you a definite answer.”
Recherché
They know how important this meeting is, thought an anxious Iruka as he sat in the waiting area near the reception desk. Hope they’ll forgive me for abandoning them to Genma.
"Next,” called the robust clerk.
As he handed over the envelope he smiled and said, “I’d like to see the Governor as soon as possible, please. Not sure what the protocol is but I assume this will be sufficient.”
“One moment sir,” she said turning away from the counter. He watched her call over another clerk and strained to hear their conversation. After a few exchanged nods and whispers, she returned saying, “Well . . . this is definitely the Governor’s stationery and signature. Unfortunately, her schedule is rather hectic for the remainder of this week. Might you be available to take a meeting with her next week, Mr. err, Dr. Umino?"
“No … that simply won’t do,” he insisted. “This is a matter of grave import--”
“Perhaps you’d like to speak with her assistant then?”

Notes:
Welkin: the sky; the vault of heaven.
Voluble: characterized by a ready and continuous flow of words; talkative.
Fallacious: logically unsound.
Flotsam and jetsam: specific kinds of shipwreck – flotsam, floating wreckage of a ship or its cargo; jetsam – part of a ship, its equipment or cargo, purposely thrown overboard to lighten the load in times of distress and washed ashore.
Wending: (archaic) – to proceed or go.
Chit: a signed note for money owed to the bearer of the note.
Appetence: intense desire.
Intendment: intention.
Columbine: dove colored; grey.
Brume: fog or mist.
Bifurcate: to divide or fork into two branches.
Orbicular: circular, ring like, spherical.
Pince-nez: a style of glasses supported without earpieces by pinching the bridge of the nose. Uncomfortable to wear for long periods of time, they were usually suspended by a ribbon or chain around the neck. Women made use of a brooch-like device pinned to their clothing which would automatically retract the line to which the glasses were attached when not in use.
Tarako: a salted roe derived from cod, usually enjoyed with breakfast.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Recherche