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[Mar. 26th, 2015|04:42 am]

namiashi_raidou
“No.” Raidou grimaced. “I remembered it. I just thought it was a normal battlefield thing. Everyone talked about extreme reactions. We were exhausted, eating bad rations, there was always some new poison to worry about. Everyone went a little weird. One of my commanders said I was a natural berserker; she wanted three more like me.”

“So your commander nurtured this tendency of yours,” Shibata said, voice thoughtful and laced with the faintest edge of judgement. “Do you recall her name? Did she survive the war, to your knowledge?”

“Hyuuga Nozomi,” Raidou said. Lightning-fast hands, calm judgement, broken neck. “She died at Shimanto Creek.”

Disappointment sleeted over Shibata’s face, almost too fast to catch, but probably deliberate. “A pity,” Shibata said, and Raidou had no idea if it was because her death extinguished a potential corroborator to Raidou’s story, or because a Konoha shinobi had died, or if Shibata was just sad to have lost a potential plaything. “So,” Shibata continued. “Four episodes during the war. Or was that five? And then nothing until this mission.”

“Yes, sir,” Raidou agreed.

“What changed?”

Raidou sat back in his chair. The cushions creased under him, velvety soft. “I got made captain,” he said, because it was an obvious box to check. “Higher stakes. There was a coup in Fire Country that nearly assassinated the Daimyou; everyone’s talking about war. It was a difficult mission. There was gen— There was genjutsu. I thought my teammate, Ueno, had died.”

Shibata took another sip of tea. It hissed through his teeth. “You’re not a fan of genjutsu? I suppose not. Your Academy records show you repeated your basic genjutsu course twice.” He smiled; it was like watching a corpse rictus. “Did you ever wonder if your teachers were telling the truth when they told you your grades and behavior would follow you the rest of your life? They were.”

“Maybe they should have kept us in school longer,” Raidou said, nettled, before he remembered manners.

“Your mothers are both teachers, I believe. I wonder what they’d have to say about that idea.”

Was that a threat? Or just a reminder that Raidou had family, and Shibata knew where they lived.

Raidou forced his jaw to unclench. "Depends which one you ask," he said. "Civilian kids graduate at fourteen; Ume seems pretty good with that. Shun's graduated nine-year-olds. That's harder."

“It’s an interesting problem,” Shibata said conversationally. “Supplying Konoha with enough talented shinobi during wartime. Perhaps there was a flaw in the system that allowed you to slip through the cracks with insufficient training. Or is that not what you were implying?”

It was like trying to have a conversation with a three-headed snake. You got two nailed down, and the third one struck you in the face.

“If I’m honest, will you be?” Raidou said.

“Is there something you want to ask me?” The mobile half of Shibata’s face looked amused. “I thought I was the only one with questions today. By all means, ask.”

“Traditionally, conversations are two-sided,” Raidou said, like there was any doubt Shibata’s version of a conversation wasn’t simply scaffolding for a slow-burn interrogation. “You didn’t answer my first question.”

“Conversations are definitely two-sided affairs. I hope you don’t think I’ve been monopolizing the discussion,” Shibata said sardonically. But then he shifted, mockery sharpening to razor-blade focus. “I have been thoroughly honest with you so far, Namiashi. I don’t currently foresee a need to change that tactic.”

Currently.

That was probably as good as Raidou was going to get, and he knew he was running on pure luck to win that much.
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