| Just Enough Rope [Hiro] |
[Sep. 2nd, 2009|12:04 am] |
[Takes place in the early morning of April 2nd, several hours following After the Rain, three days after All We Know is Distance, four days after Meet You on the Other Side, and eight days after Dude, that was YOU?.]
Hiro slipped through the hospital like a wraith, trying not to observe his surroundings or have any impact upon them. He was a container tipped to the brim with precious information, and he couldn't be a person again until he had poured it all out in pages of notes spilling over Kotoe-san's desk.
Raidou had slept through the rest of the debriefing. Hiro wasn't sure Genma would be able to sleep for days.
It was still in the small hours of the morning -- it had only taken that long? -- and the usual ICU hush had escalated into a deathly absence of sound. At this hour the electrical chirping of monitors was muffled behind closed doors; the visitors were mostly slumped, asleep, over uncomfortable hospital armchairs; and the patients seemed to be taking a brief respite between emergencies.
Experimentally, Hiro scuffed a foot on his next step. It echoed.
The sound reverberated in the ache behind his eyes, creating ripples in his carefully-constructed equilibrium -- Genma's experience, painstakingly recreated image by image, moment by moment, carried whole and entire within the confines of his skull -- and he quickly withdrew back into himself.
An image caught the corner of his eye and held it, jostling his mental load until he had to scramble for security.
A crest, emblazoned strong and clear on the shoulder of a dangling kimono sleeve slipping out past one of the ICU-wing doors. A five-petaled flower within an eight-pointed star: the sigil of the Sakamoto family.
Sakamoto Ginta.
He double-checked the door-sign for confirmation, and got it. Immediately a thousand questions burst into his head, fully formed, but he shoved them back down. Obviously this had to do with the mission Ginta had gotten called out on just after they met; just as obviously, he'd made it home. The monitors from within his room sounded tranquil, and the sigil-wearing elderly woman now making her stately way down the hallway -- Ginta's grandmother? There weren't that many Sakamoto left -- looked exhausted, but serene.
He could have asked her how her grandson was doing, but he didn't have the time. Even if Ginta was doing poorly, Hiro couldn't stop to see him now; Intel always came first.
I owe your grandson sixty-four ryo and a date for taiyaki, Hiro told her silently, bowing his respect as she passed by. Make sure he survives for me to pay him back.
When she briefly inclined her head, acknowledging him, Hiro turned his eyes away. Burying that fresh knowledge to resurface later, he instead bore his already-brimming thoughts out past the swinging double-doors and into the world beyond.
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Kotoe-san's office was in the first basement of headquarters, close to the stairs down. A fact which surprised no one who encountered her -- her past was mostly filed at the back of the 'Classified' drawer in Arakaki-sama's office, but everyone suspected it had included a considerable stint in Shida Akumaru's domain. Even now, her position was somewhat fluid, apparently straddling the line between Psych and Intel -- but what was clear was that she was nearly always the one called up to handle the truly difficult cases.
Broken minds, broken bodies; when the worst mission failures staggered their way home to collapse onto Konoha's doorstep, somehow she always knew.
It was nearing 0500 hours, but when Hiro knocked on her door, a gravelly voice instantly beckoned him in. Though her outward poise was as strong as when he'd met her before, Hiro noticed that she also had bags under her eyes; she gathered and filed away a thick pile of Intel-coded documents as he shut the door behind him.
Ginta, Hiro thought, and pushed the thought aside.
"Hyuuga Hiro, 011124, reporting on the debriefing of Shiranui Genma, 010203." He stood up straight, and spoke clearly. This part was easy -- procedure. "The mission report is a failure; my notes on the interview are here. Would you like a verbal summary?"
He slid his pile of neatly-labeled notes across her desk; she accepted them, but kept her sharpened eyes focused on him. "Yes, yes -- go on." She seemed more awake now, no hint of exhaustion lingering behind her intensity. There was a chair in front of her desk, but she didn't offer for him to take a seat.
He remained standing.
"...if I may begin with my general impressions?" He hesitated, unwilling to interject his personal opinion -- but in this case, it was important.
She cut in impatiently, waving a hand. "Go on -- that's why we sent you."
Feeling pinned beneath her predatory focus, Hiro nodded, taking an even breath. "I thoroughly concur with your preliminary report. Agent Shiranui and Namiashi are not to be separated, and should, indeed, be facilitated in their attachment. I believe the two of them are far stronger together than apart, and, in their current state, may not even be able to function on their own."
Kotoe-san nodded briefly, her intent gaze not wavering. She didn't move to take down any notes, and it was impossible for even his trained eyes to gauge her reaction.
"I had occasion to talk with each of them independently, while the other was sleeping. Namiashi was combative and at times irrational, exhibiting an extreme degree of paranoia; Shiranui wavered during his accounting of the failed mission, but held up." He paused for a long moment, measuring his words. "I believe that, had they not been partnered together, neither of them would have survived to make it home."
Synergy was a powerful thing, and protective instinct even more so. Attachments were, of course, a vulnerability, but they could also be an incredible strength, as long as they were properly analyzed, catalogued, and kept under control. From the initial case report she'd written, Hiro had a feeling that Kotoe-san understood the benefits and drawbacks better than most.
"When I first entered the hospital room, both shinobi had an extreme negative reaction. I knocked before I entered to avoid startling them, but as far as I can tell, it had the opposite effect, setting off some sort of sensitivity. Possibly related to when Sago was entrapped, beating on the bunker door, during their escape? In any case, Shiranui jostled his injuries and had to be sedated, so I had the opportunity to speak with Namiashi alone for quite some time."
Far too long for Hiro's own peace of mind; he still thought it was a mistake that he'd been sent to do that debriefing. Surely there'd been some other agent available who looked experienced enough to placate Raidou's surly rebellion while still being unthreatening enough to soothe Genma's shattered mission-nerves. The Byakugan was an asset -- he'd kept it activated the entire time, and had the headache to prove it -- but it wasn't essential. They could have sent someone else.
Unless they'd been testing him -- something which suddenly seemed all too possible, though of course he'd never be sure. The situation shifted about in his mind, and he wondered. Sato Kotoe: known to have a position between Psych and Intel, straddling the divisions...
The Byakugan, with its ability to constantly monitor and dissect microscopic flashes of body language, was well known in certain circles as a powerful tool for analyzing emotional states. Only the Inuzuka bloodlimit could best it for insight, as far as he knew -- but Inuzuka were, as a rule, temperamentally unsuitable for such delicate interpersonal work.
The Hyuuga, notably, did not have such problems.
Hiro didn't have the training to take full advantage of the information he'd gleaned in this case -- he was a spy, not an interrogator -- but there was no doubt that his bloodline could, in theory, be quite useful to provide exactly the sort of details that Kotoe-san might want.
In theory. If he'd had the training. But right now, he was a field agent -- not a debriefer, and certainly not a Psych analyst. Kotoe-san's penetrating gaze was fixed on him, evaluating his report with the full weight of her mingled years of experience, and all he could think about was how many ways he was likely to fall short.
"Namiashi seemed stable enough; he was able to crack jokes throughout the proceedings--" mostly at Hiro's expense "--and was resistant to mildly destabilizing comments, though he did significantly overreact. He appeared to take an instant strong dislike to me, but his behavior never quite crossed the boundaries of what was reasonable. Still," Hiro added with a dash of sincere hope, "I suggest that I not be sent to him as an official debriefer in the future. The interaction was... less than optimal." He finished with a straight face, but the degree of his understatement had to have been obvious.
Kotoe-san just frowned, however. "Hmm, we'll see," she allowed noncommittally, and marked down something unspecific on one of the many sheets of paper spread out in front of her. It could have been what she was planning to have for lunch the next day, for all Hiro knew.
He pressed on, since no alternate options immediately presented themselves. "When Shiranui woke up, he was quite disoriented. I hadn't been aware that this was his first prolonged period of consciousness since their return to the village; my presence, and particularly Namiashi's agitated state, caused him to become significantly unstable." Genma's controlled panic, tense and disarrayed; the roiling waves of hot anger forming a nearly visible haze above Raidou's skin. It had been... frightening, to feel the situation spiraling so far out of his control.
"Between the two of us, Namiashi and I -- mostly Namiashi -- were able to calm him down, but if Namiashi hadn't been there, I believe the situation would have had the potential to degenerate considerably. From these interactions, and from what you observed in your own initial report, it seems that Inuzuka Tsume-san's conclusions from her field investigation may be even more true now. I do not believe separating them is a viable alternative." He paused. "If, of course, that had ever been under consideration."
But that was none of his business. He moved on, expanding upon minute observations and considered speculations, Kotoe-san's dark-rimmed eyes judging him at every word. His own vision hazed for a moment, and when he blinked slowly to clear it, he found that could barely lever his lids open again afterwards. They drooped, heavy, and he wished he could reach over and pinch himself more awake. He'd palmed half a soldier pill towards the end of the debriefing, since Genma had hardly been in a position to notice; the false chakra always stung his eyes and shaded the edges of his vision red, but it kept him going.
It was fading now.
Time to finish this, before he got too tired and really started making mistakes. "The rest of the factual information is there in my notes. I won't waste your time by detailing further. Most of it duplicates Namiashi's account, but there are some interesting additions, particularly the details of Shiranui's successful one-handed translocation and a fuller explanation of the healing technique that caused the puncture wounds and chakra damage on Namiashi's chest area." That had involved more discussion of the flayed burns and crackled flesh, words falling isolated and stripped of meaning from Genma's hoarse throat, but by that point Hiro had been past 'not thinking about it' and on into not-so-comfortably numb.
It was over now, though. He shoved that memory, along with the others, into the back, shadowed recesses of his mind -- not gone, because all information was important, but segregated. Divided, he hoped, from the everyday wanderings of his conscious thoughts. It was Kotoe-san's problem now, the full load of recollections and staggering secondhand sensations pushed across the desk and into her capable hands.
But he couldn't leave quite yet. Not before he told her. She was opening her mouth to dismiss him, to perhaps deliver a clipped and businesslike thanks for his efforts, but he raised an apologetic hand before she could start. She fell back against the padded rise of her seat, head tilted and waiting.
"There was... one other thing." Here he didn't hesitate; hesitating would make it seem worse than it was. "Due to the circumstances, there was one situation in which I judged it... imperative," he picked his descriptives carefully, "to mislead Genma about a certain set of events."
Utter silence. A calm and implacable expression, not shifting with his words.
"In particular..." He would not be unnerved. Not by this most basic of techniques, even wielded with such merciless precision and expertise. "...he is currently under the impression that not only Sago, but all of Sago's comrades, are dead."
Her silence stretched into a palpable thing, a muffled quietude in which he could almost hear the repeated pounding of his own elevated heartbeat. She was granting him precious time to explain himself -- thank the kami -- and he spoke into the void.
"Namiashi was the first to make the assertion, to quell Shiranui's panic. I judged, given Shiranui's level of agitation and the way he was clinging to his partner, his heart rate and chakra disturbance and shallow, rapid breathing, that it would have been inadvisable to contradict Namiashi's statement at that time." Hiro paused for a breath, and Kotoe did not cut in. She was letting him talk himself out, waiting for a mistake.
"Given your recommendations and my own observations," Hiro continued, more earnestly than he would have liked, "I believed that interfering with their trust for each other would have been far more damaging in the long run, both to their opinion of Intel debriefers, and also to their own relationship and mental stability. Instead, I chose to employ a minor deception which can be straightforwardly corrected once their condition has stabilized."
He ran out of words. It had made sense at the time -- he couldn't imagine coming to any other conclusion -- but it all seemed so stark, so wrong, explaining it now. His hands were relaxed at his sides, and they weren't shaking. They weren't.
He hoped she agreed that the deception was minor, and that the correction would be straightforward. He hoped she agreed that the alternative was worse.
Kotoe-san stared at him for another long counting of breaths stretching into eternity -- please, decide! -- before she picked up a pen and twirled it between her long, blunt-tipped fingers.
"Interesting, Hyuuga. I'm sure you've included more details in your report..." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway.
"...so I won't question you any more right now. I'm putting a note on your file, though; I want to keep you nearby in case I need more information. No away missions for the next few days," she frowned, "and don't let them give you one."
He nodded again, still feeling slightly queasy. That wasn't any kind of reassurance, or any kind of decision. Though, he supposed, at least she hadn't stripped him of his rank on the spot.
Small comfort.
There was a long pause as she shuffled some papers, presumably setting things in order for the hold on his file. He stood stock-still and submissive as she made the arrangements, hands clasped behind his back and trying not to quiver in the aftermath of his admission. She hadn't looked up to dismiss him yet -- had she forgotten he was there? -- and so he stayed.
A few precise, rapid motions of her pen, and her dark eyes were pinned on him again, as intense as if she'd never looked away. "Do you think you did the right thing, Hyuuga?"
Why was she asking him? How could she possibly care? But he did think so, even with all of this. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have done it. "Yes, Kotoe-san," he answered immediately. If you couldn't stand by your own actions, what good were they?
"Hmm." Her equivocal grunt didn't grant him any further insight into her motives or her conclusions, but at least it wasn't arch or condescending. She shuffled a few more files around on her desk, and he waited patiently.
At last, she lifted her head and set a stack of papers to the side with finality. "Thank you for your report, Agent Hyuuga, 011124." Her sharp expression even eased a fraction, a hawk moving on to other prey, and he dared to think about breathing again. "If I need further information, I'll let you know." That was a formal dismissal if he'd ever heard one, and he started to turn away, taking a few steps towards the door.
"Hyuuga--" Kotoe-san barked out abruptly from behind him, as if making up her mind, and his Byakugan flared back into life at the same time as he whirled and felt a scroll thwack into his automatically-outstretched hand.
What?
If he hadn't twisted around, it would have hit straight on his blind spot. First thoracic vertebra. A friendly warning, or a threat? Or was it neither -- just the reflex, written indelibly into instinct even for one as careful and practical as Kotoe-san, to continually play the game?
Her expression was mostly serene, but his chakra-thrumming vision showed him a tiny inkling of an upturned quirk lingering at the corner of weathered lips. The document she'd tossed was clearly printed and neat; at this range, reading the text between the rolls of paper was effortless.
"Psych classes," she informed him, unnecessarily. "Monday and Wednesday nights, when you're not away on a mission."
She'd planned this; showed him the skills he was lacking, and made him want to learn. "I suggest you attend," she finished with a raised eyebrow, and it was clear that 'suggest' meant nothing of the sort.
But it wasn't an order. They were voluntary classes; he still had, he thought, a hair's-breadth of leverage. Not enough for information on Haruichi -- he wasn't nearly bold enough to try and tangle with the Hyuuga so directly -- but...
He consciously unfroze his limbs, relaxing into a more casual pose with the scroll held loosely at his side. For once, they needed something from him; something they had to ask for. "Sakamoto Ginta. I heard he came back from a bad mission recently?"
Both her eyebrows continued climbing, burying themselves beneath slate-gray bangs. Then her lips widened, as if tolerantly amused at the children playing at being ninja.
"Very nice, Hyuuga." She fished around in the pile at her side and pulled out a slim file-folder, tossing it towards him again. He caught it neatly in his other hand before the papers could flutter, already scanning the first few pages with chakra-suffused vision.
"I trust you'll use that well," she inserted dryly, lifting his eyes, and he favored her with a carefully even smile while still manipulating his peripheral focus through the layered sheets.
"Of course." His reply was noncommittal and exact, but brimming with internal satisfaction and no small amount of exhiliration. On the whole he'd probably lost this encounter, manipulated by the hands of a master. But in this last round, trapped and backed into a corner, he might -- just might -- have managed to maneuver himself into one small, barely-significant victory.
Maybe he was finally -- finally! -- learning how to play the game on this level.
Or maybe... Maybe she'd just intended to give him the files all along. Damn. He'd never be able to tell. Either way, though, he recomposed his features and gave her one last brief bow of respect, tucking the folder under his arm and releasing the Byakugan out of politeness. She'd already turned back to her piles of documents, but she looked up long enough to grace him with a twist of her lips and a wave of her hand in dismissal, revealing nothing but serene satisfaction. "See you on Monday, Hyuuga."
"See you on Monday," he echoed, attempting to mimic her bright tone but finding himself tripping over his own upturned mental state. Moving with perhaps a touch more alacrity than would usually be advised, he mentally bolted for the door. Measured steps brought him up the stairs to HQ lobby, but he turned away from the second flight up to his room.
Outside, the sun might be rising on the second early morning since he'd seen his bed, but in here, he still had work to do. Settling himself onto an uncomfortable couch in the rec room, Hiro cracked open his dearly-won copy of Ginta's file and began to read. |
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