Genma flinched, groaned when that made every single injury flare to life, and remembered where he was. Hurt. Poisoned. Hayate was gone, but the slowly dripping IVs of antidotes, blood and fluids, and the chirping monitors remained. How long had it been since Hayate had gone? With no clock there was no way to know for sure. It felt like he'd only just drifted off a moment ago but...

Maybe Hayate was back? Or maybe Hideo with more antidote? Or another medic. Probably another doctor or nurse. Or maybe Raidou. But he was on a mission, someone had told him. So not Raidou. He hoped to god Raidou's mission was going better than his and Hayate's had.

"Who..."

He didn't get to finish asking the question. A short Hyuuga in ANBU uniform pushed the door open.

"Haru..." It wasn't Haruichi. Genma frowned and tried to sit up, but it was just too much effort. He wrapped his arm protectively over his aching side. Whoever this Hyuuga was, he was younger than Haruichi. And he had a clipboard.

"I'm Hyuuga Hiro," Hiro interrupted smoothly. Not Haruichi. And he had the sneaking suspicion that was going to happen every single time he introduced himself to someone in ANBU.

On the upside, he had another name to add the list of people who knew and might have information about his relative. In fact... mentally paging through the file he had been given to prepare for the debriefing, he bumped the name up several positions on the list; Shiranui had joined ANBU at around the same time as Haruichi's supposed death. Maybe he knew something about the circumstances.

That line of questioning would need to wait until his information source looked less like one giant bruise, though.

Wincing mentally at his subject's condition--that would not have been a good way to die--Hiro put on an easy smile instead. "They're sending me out to investigate the situation in Juunan in a little more detail, so I hope you don't mind if I ask you a few questions?" He kept his tone conversational and reached behind himself to pull up a chair, settling the clipboard on his lap.

It wasn't as if Shiranui had a choice, after all.

"Intel?" Genma asked. Of course. But Field Ops Intel. He was dressed for a mission, minus mask and sword... Did Intel Ops carry katana? Genma blinked and tried to pull his thoughts together.

Not Haruichi, but Haruichi was the only Hyuuga in ANBU. Or he was.

"You're new?" His voice sounded ragged and raspy. Water. Could he have more water? The pitcher was still there, and the cup with its straw, just out of reach. The nurse that had checked on him after Hayate left--when was that? It was just sunset now, so he must have slept an hour or so--had taken the water Hayate'd given him away and warned him not to drink too much lest it all come back up and start his gut bleeding again.

Focus. Hiro. Smiling at him. Not Haruichi, because Haruichi wouldn't look at him in the state he was in and smile like that. Not in a million years.

And he was being sent to Juunan.

"We were set up. Someone knew we were coming."

Hiro nodded. "I talked to your mission partner, he told me what he remembered. But I'd like to get your side as well, if that's okay?" While he was speaking, he scooted his chair closer to the bedside so he could pour a glass of water--he hadn't missed Genma's forlorn glance.

Hayate hadn't been able to tell him much, unfortunately. The kid--well, not actually that much younger than Hiro himself, truth be told--had been chakra-exhausted and shaken, his mind stuck on what had happened afterwards rather than on the details of the mission itself. Which was understandable, considering the condition of his partner, but distinctly not helpful. At least Hiro had been able to reassure him about the papers; they were in perfectly readable condition.

Well, readable for a Hyuuga, anyway, he thought smugly.

Redirecting his internal self-satisfaction into an outwardly polite smile, Hiro held out the glass of water, the straw pointed towards his companion. Then he quickly reconsidered, noting the way Genma's eyes followed the glass but he didn't immediately reach out. After a brief glance asking permission--and conveying a wry apology for the necessity--he pressed the button to raise the head of the bed, and held the glass next to Genma's chest where it would be easier for him to reach.

"Maybe you can start from the beginning?" he asked, after the motor had finished whirring.

There was something slightly galling about being so obviously weak your Intel debriefer had to raise your bed for you, Genma thought. Maybe it was just the vulnerability that got to him--no shinobi liked being at such an obvious physical disadvantage, even with a comrade. "Thanks," he said, taking the glass. He sipped cautiously, but the water was soothing: the digestive rebellion that nurse had been worried about didn't materialize.

Hiro was watching him. Waiting. "What beginning do you want me to start at? The beginning of the mission, or the beginning of things getting screwed up? I think they were unaffiliated ninja--chuunin-level for the most part although a couple of them were stronger--maybe the leaders."

He stared past Hiro for a moment, remembering the fight. The chaos. "There were eight of them. Got us when we came out after we took out the target. My guess is they were supposed to get there before we did and stop us, but they were late."

But if that was the case, why bother with the fight? If you'd missed your opportunity, you'd missed your opportunity, and you called your mission a failure.

"No wait... That doesn't make sense." Genma sighed and closed his eyes. "I have no idea why they did that. Big messy fight, and they just died. I mean, they hurt us, but it was a fast fight. Like it was some kind of suicide mission."

Hiro waited until Genma snapped himself out of his flashback before he spoke. Interrupting flashbacks could have negative consequences. Besides, useful memories were often unearthed that would be difficult to access any other way; Psych hated flashbacks, but Intel had a more nuanced appreciation for them.

"I meant, would you start from the very beginning? When you arrived in Juunan? We have several theories that would explain the timing of the ambush" --well, Hiro had several theories, anyway-- "but it would help to have a specific list of the people you talked to and when, as well as a description of any suspicious behavior you encountered. We need to know who was in on her plans, and where the leak in our operations occurred."

Seeing Genma's eyes narrow, Hiro raised a hand to forestall any incipient objections. "We believe you, that your presence in Juunan wasn't noted," he added sincerely. Hayate had been very clear on that, and irked when Hiro brought it up. "The leak almost certainly occurred on our client's side. But if we can confirm that and provide proof, it'll be easier to secure hazard bonuses for you and your partner, as well as enabling us to better protect our agents in the future."

And Hiro would still get a detailed description of the Konoha team's contacts and activities. Just in case.

"Hazard pay, huh?" Genma snorted something that started as a laugh and ended as a wince. "We were ambushed by eight guys who were expecting us. If you think the client has a leak, I think I can safely speak for all Hunters when I say please find that out before you send us out there to get our guts sliced up." He shifted his legs under the blankets, trying to find some position that didn't put a strain on his bruised side. There really wasn't one. Sleep had been nice. Asleep he hadn't been so aware of how thoroughly he'd had the crap beaten out of him.

And Hiro was going right back into it. Poor guy. He was Intel, but not the side of it that had fucked up here. He was the clean-up crew. Genma's expression softened. "Make sure you got them agreeing to hazard bonuses for you and your team before you leave. Ours was A-rank, don't let them cheat you. And don't walk into some stupid suicide situation. Someone's betting Leaf ninja are idiots: don't make them right."

He looked up again, seeing past Hiro to that alleyway lit by crackling fire. Suicide mission. It had seemed like a suicide mission, not for the Konoha ninja, but for the others. That taunting kunoichi--You Konoha boys are sloppy--had she known she was facing overwhelming odds? How could she possibly have looked at the bone and black uniforms, the stylized ANBU masks, and not known she was throwing her life away? Genma's metal jutsu had obliterated her mouth, searing flesh, pouring down her throat. Copper, zinc, iron...

Hiro was watching him like a hawk, reaching out to take the glass again, when Genma's uneasy motions sloshed water onto the thick white bedding. Hiro's fingertips just brushed Genma's, and Genma snatched his hand back, grabbing for the blankets, pulling them up higher. "I'm still cold," he said. "Can't really seem to get warm enough. Guess that's from the poison."

Hiro stilled immediately when Genma jerked his hand away, unsure what to do when the other ninja faded even whiter, clutching the blankets to his chest. The heart-rate monitor sped into a briefly more rapid cadence, the tone edging shrill for a moment before settling. Did he need to call the nurse? But they had said that Shiranui was medically cleared!

Hiro's gaze caught and slid away from Genma's twisted, broken hands, showcased against the white hospital-issue comforter. Genma was curled around them protectively, and they were partially hidden by the blankets, but he had seen them fully on his first glance into the room. If he looked again with his Byakugan, he knew he would see warped chakra channels twining together unnaturally, long-ago chakra stitches binding connections at sharp inorganic angles rather than smoothly flowing curves. The remembered image turned his stomach, and yet he wanted to look again, to trace those awkward, painfully forced chakra-lines with his eyes. The sight repelled him, and yet he couldn't look away.

He looked away. The file had said that Shiranui had issues about his hands, but he hadn't imagined this. How could anyone survive as an active-duty shinobi with such a ghastly disability--and worse, such a glaring vulnerability?

Not knowing what else to do, Hiro ignored it. The beeping monitors had returned to their original discordant pitches, and no nurses came running to the door. So Genma must be fine, right?

As fine as he could be, short two liters of blood and with hands like those.

"It's a solo mission, actually," Hiro began conversationally, testing the waters. "But I'll be sure to be careful. Thank you."

Genma blew out a low breath, steadying himself. He shrugged under the covers further--it might have been a cover for his flinch, but his claim that he was cold was no lie. The blood would help with that--the nurses reminded him every time they brought him another blanket or another dose of medication--and you couldn't run it in too quickly, especially with the remnants of the poison still circulating. The antidote was working and it would all be fine, just not right now.

Being cold always made his hands hurt. Flinching over accidental touch though--that was a weakness he was ready to be past. He'd done it to Hayate, on the mission. Done it here, and felt Hiro's eyes on his hands, seen something quickly hidden on the Hyuuga agent's face. As soon as he was better, he told himself, soon as he was cleared to resume training, he was talking to Raidou about it. Dealing with it.

"Solo--at least you don't have a teammate to worry about, then," Genma said. Focus on the task at hand. Focus on the debriefing. "It's just an investigation, right? No action for you? We killed the entire ambush team, as far as I know. I don't think anyone in Juunan will know it was Konoha ANBU who left those corpses, but they'll be damn sure it was ninja. Shuriken and kunai and jutsu marks all over the fucking place. We didn't have time to clean up after ourselves." He shook his head. "I don't know if anyone caught a glimpse of us, but as far as I know there was no pursuit. But you might want to walk in a henge, or at least civies."

A thick layer of professional courtesy prevented him from commenting on the obviousness of that remark. Pale white eyes did tend to stand out--just a little!--among civilians; of course he'd use a henge. But Hiro had to take the suggestion for what it was: a shaken ninja's conversational gambit, attempting to gloss over his brief show of weakness and resume the discussion. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you could start from your arrival in Juunan, and describe your activities and contacts?" He waited, attentive, pencil at the ready.

That little slip-up is definitely going in my mission report, though, Hiro thought, making a mental note. He didn't write it down on the clipboard; that was just a prop. People noticed what you didn't mark down just as much as what you did, and a still pencil could easily lull a nervous subject into a false sense of security.

Not that he had expected Genma to be nervous, exactly. Genma was an experienced veteran, with years of missions ranging from difficult to disastrous under his belt. But still, from what the initial Intel handlers (and Hayate, afterwards) had told him, this sounded like a bad one. Combined with the PTSD flag in Genma's file, Hiro had decided it would be best to appear as non-threatening as possible, using all the tools in his arsenal.

He was beginning to suspect that, in ANBU, the purpose of a debriefing was to investigate the state of the ninja, almost as much as the state of the mission.

"You're all business, aren't you?" Genma licked his lips--dry and chapped, but at least the taste of blood was gone. He thought about reaching for the glass again, but his hands didn't feel steady, and he didn't need Hiro's eyes on them. Not after that little lapse. Not while they ached with cold and his chakra was low enough they were monitoring it with one of those softly-beeping machines.

"Let's see. We got there Sunday around 1500. Easy journey. Henge'd about five clicks out, so we looked like rurals on their way into the city for some fun. Did some recon and checked into a place at the edge of the pleasure quarter. One of those places where they don't ask questions and you make sure to flash-heat the mattress with a jutsu before you lie down on it." He chuckled, eying Hiro, catching a flush of recognition on that impassive Hyuuga face. The kid might be trying to be an efficient little Intel functionary, but he had enough field experience to know exactly what kind of place they'd holed up in.

"Based ourselves there. Did a lot of recon on Oimikado's operation and Mitsugawa, but we didn't really make any contact with anyone until the night we put the plan into motion. Then I henge'd as Mitsugawa and Hayate made himself into his bodyguard, and we went and found the girl..."

Poor girl. There was always a moment, when you were doing these debriefings and writing your mission report, when you had to remember the people who... who fate had put in your path. Karma. She'd been born to a life of suffering, and maybe she'd be reborn to something better. Or maybe not. Even the priests couldn't explain it. Genma sighed softly and looked away. Raindrops ran down the darkening glass, mirroring the dripping IV.

Hiro had been listening attentively, taking down rapid-fire notes. The notes were mostly for show, so far; Genma hadn't said anything that Hiro hadn't already heard from Hayate, though Hayate had certainly glossed over the extraneous details about their housing in the red-light district. Hiro finished jotting down a quick reminder to check the pleasure quarter for kunoichi spies--something he had been planning to do anyway--and looked up at Genma's pause.

The other shinobi was staring off distantly, his amber eyes tracing the meandering trails left by the rain as it coursed along the windowpane. His hands lay still against the blankets, warped fingernails blue with anemia.

Hayate had told him about finding the girl, in fits and starts. That they'd gone into another bar first, and been directed to the second; that they'd been shown another girl before the one they chose. With prompting, Hayate had described the burly barkeep in the first bar who'd given them the tip, and the slender and smug member of the Juunan nightlife they'd approached in the second. Hayate had given a halting description, too, of the two young girls who had been paraded before them: one, in some sense, lucky; the other, not. Thinking about it, Hiro wasn't entirely sure which was which.

But Hayate's descriptions weren't enough, not when Genma's more experienced insight was available.

"I need details," Hiro prompted, only mildly apologetic. It wasn't his job to provide sympathy--that was for Psych, if it got that far. His job was only to extract information, as quickly and effectively as possible. He reminded himself of that as he continued to press the man in front of him, with skin still near-translucent from blood-loss, for specifics. "Where exactly you stayed. Descriptions of the people you talked to. And please, a full run-down of your experience procuring the girl?"

Genma turned his head back towards Hiro. A slow movement, tired and careful, but his focus was sharp. He'd done this more times than he could count, not just debriefing, but this hospital-bed interview when all you wanted to do was sleep. But someone else's life was going to be on the line, so you pulled your shit together and gave a good report. Especially if that someone else was the one doing the interview.

"The afternoon before the operation I henge'd as an older farmer-type--bone thin and bad teeth, if anyone remembers me--and made some inquiries about who the pimps were who handled young girls. Made like I was a father looking to sell a daughter." He waited for Hiro to react to that, if he was going to. If any part of his plan had been questionable it had been that. Maybe he'd made himself too memorable, and someone had gotten suspicious. He didn't think so, though. He'd picked his targets carefully, and gotten only knowing and sympathetic looks.

"Three people told me a man named Jitaro--no-one seemed to know a family name for him--was the one to go to, if I wanted my little girl treated right. I figured Mitsugawa would go to as high class a pimp as he could find, if he wanted a little girl to play with."

Hiro's pencil was moving sporadically. "This the same stuff Hayate already told you? I got my tips for how to find Jitaro from a bartender at a place called Fat Sugar, a tako-yaki vendor in Sarusawa Park, and a woman who was handing out leaflets for a teahouse."

Hiro shifted in his seat as Genma spoke, leaning forward in increased focus. Genma must have had a lot of practice with these rapid-fire hospital bed debriefings in his five-plus years in ANBU--back in regular ops, Hiro would have had to specifically request each detail of the recap that Genma had just handed to him in one easy, organized narration.

Things were different here, though; everything seemed to move at a faster pace. When Hiro had received his own mission, it had been strongly suggested that he complete his information-gathering and be back in Konoha within three days--that didn't leave a lot of time for carefully asking individual questions and piecing together fragmented stories.

Of course, rushing anything was the easiest way to end up dead. It was always, 'oh, I forgot to tell you about the bloodhounds they had patrolling the camp,' or something. Presented with a rueful shake of the head and an apology, which you would've appreciated a lot more if it had been given before you'd been surrounded by five slathering chakra-hounds and five unhappy ninja within the first minutes of your infiltration.

So it was certainly worth taking the time to confirm the details.

"Hayate did tell me some of this already. But please continue--hearing both sides gives a more complete picture." He paused to underline Genma's description of his disguise as the imaginary farmer; from a less experienced ninja he might have considered it a risky plan, but for a veteran like Genma it had been the right thing to do, allowing him to be discriminating in his choice of procurer without the attention that a higher-class disguise would certainly draw.

"Could you describe the actual purchase of the girl? Hayate mentioned you slipped something into Jitaro's drink." Hiro kept his tone neutral--he'd reserve judgment for now. The poisons shinobi used were theoretically one-hundred percent untraceable, after all, and Genma's file labeled him a notable chemicals expert.

Still, he couldn't help wondering whether it had actually been necessary. If the ambushing ninja had been thorough, they could have traced Genma and Hayate's path back to the bar and found the poison traces in the cup, or in a sample of Jitaro's blood. Despite all claims to the contrary, it was at least conceivable that a specialist could decompose the chemical formulation and link it straight back to Konoha. Which could present a serious political problem, if not discovered and handled quickly: Juunan was small, but it was influential, and these minor political upsets had a tendency to balloon all out of proportion.

From Hayate's description of the ambush, the hired ninja didn't seem the type to be that thorough. But if Hiro was going to be sent into a town already on the lookout for Konoha ninja, he wanted to be ready for it. I hope they both used standard-issue ANBU weapons, he thought suddenly. They should have, it was regulation. But still... 'Shuriken and kunai all over the place,' Genma had said; if the abandoned weapons had any of the usual Konoha-specific marks or flourishes on them, they were already in trouble.

"Jitaro was where my contacts had said he'd be. I went in as Mitsugawa and reconfirmed with my contact at Fat Sugar. He ought to remember Mitsugawa asking where he could get an untouched girl. Then we went to the bar where Jitaro holds court. Three Chrysanthemums." Genma swallowed and licked his lips. So dry. He reached for the glass again, and Hiro put it carefully in his hand. Not touching. Genma could feel Hiro's eyes on his gnarled fingers, but the Hyuuga didn't say a word.

Intel agents were schooled in keeping their reactions off their faces, and most Hyuuga were notoriously unreadable unless they were in an extreme temper, Genma reminded himself. He hoped, though, that his lapse of a moment before was forgotten. He sipped the water, and grimaced when the cold liquid hit his raw throat.

"Jitaro had a bodyguard at his side, and another two in the bar. One by the door, and another who was disguised as a patron. He was at a table to the right, and had his back mostly turned towards us, but he was watching. Had a katana but no obvious throwing weapons, and he didn't move like a ninja. I think samurai training, but he was a freelancer, not tied to any House."

Hiro nodded and jotted on his paper. Genma sipped his water, wished he could get another shot of whatever they had him on to keep the pain at bay, and continued. "The first girl they brought out was an insult. A test of how serious Mitsugawa was about what he was asking for. I complained about her immediately. The second girl was what the mission brief specified: untouched. As soon as I was certain we had what we needed, I dosed the pimp's drink with a mild amnesiac. Miwasurete no doku. It dissolves rapidly, is tasteless and odorless, and metabolizes completely in less than four hours. It's unstable in alcohol, so there'd be no trace of it on the glass." He paused, looking up at Hiro, trying to make eye contact with featureless pupils. "It was just some extra insurance. I wanted him remembering Mitsugawa came and hired a girl, but not a whole lot of details."

Hiro smiled disarmingly. "It's okay, I believe you." He marked down a few notes about the poison, and a short comment that could very well have been 'poison judged to be a minimal risk.'

That wasn't actually what he wrote; the internal ops agent taking over the case would need to look up the poison and confirm Genma's description before they could truly sign off on Genma's course of action. But he continued as if it was.

"What arrangements did you make for the girl's return?" Presumably one of Jitaro's bodyguards would have been sent to retrieve the girl at Mitsugawa's office, thus discovering the grim scene left behind by the Konoha ANBU. That, in turn, would have set off its own set of fireworks within the city of Juunan, possibly larger even, metaphorically, than the explosive jutsu exchanged by the ninja.

What Genma might not have known, but Hiro certainly did, was that Oimikado was well-known as an outspoken supporter of the sex trade in Juunan. Giving impassioned speeches about women's right to use their bodies as they chose, citing heartfelt testimonials from young women who had made enough money to lever themselves up into respectable society, Oimikado portrayed herself to the poor, downtrodden whores of the city as a loving--though distant as the stars--mentor figure.

Which was why the best way to ensure that sparks would fly in the city of Juunan was to frame a furious and jealous Oimikado for the grisly murder of her assistant and his accompanying beruffled sex toy.

Disgusting, all of it. Both sides, as far as he was concerned. But if Oimikado managed to blame the whole thing on interfering ninja, spinning the sad story of the charmingly innocent child whore so that it improved her status in the city, rather than destroying it... Konoha's client would not be happy.

Hiro kept his face smooth and pleasant, though, his crossed ankles and forward posture the image of casual receptivity. Genma didn't need to worry about any of the politics here; his part in this fiasco was over and done with. Besides, Hiro was becoming increasingly certain--and he had been quite certain to begin with--that Oimikado's advance warning had come from someone within the Juunan political establishment itself.

That was the second time Hiro had reassured Genma that he believed him. It was enough to make Genma edgy. Why wouldn't Intel believe him? Did they think he was holding something back? Did they think he'd screwed this mission up? Sure he and Hayate had both been injured, but it had been an A-ranked mission. The rank alone said the higher-ups expected casualties. For a mission like that, both agents coming back alive with the objective at least partially secured was usually considered a success.

He frowned, set the water glass aside, and rested against the pillows with a little less languor than before, a little more tension. Hiro gave nothing away, patrician features composed, body language saying nothing more than that he was paying attention. Well, Genma was paying attention now, too.

"Forgeries had prepared us a document with Oimikado and Mitsugawa's office address in Mitsugawa's handwriting. I gave the pimp an envelope with cash and the address, and told him to be discreet about collecting the girl an hour before dawn. That was supposed to give time for us to do the job and the bodies to be cold by the time they were discovered, so it looked like Oimikado did it around midnight." He watched Hiro closely, watched the pencil on paper, and found he was too tired to even try to read the words upside down. Whatever Hiro was writing, it barely looked like kanji.

Hiro nodded again. That was straightforward, seemed like standard procedure. But he noticed that Genma was getting nervous; the tightness around his eyes no longer stemmed from pain alone. Was he hiding something? Hiro put the chances of that very low, at this point--there had been no signs or even hints of signs before now, and after Genma's initial grogginess had passed he'd been more than cooperative.

Hiro could activate the Byakugan to check more closely, of course. Rare indeed was the person who could maintain a deception beneath the Hyuuga bloodline's intense and detailed scrutiny, though it was certainly more common among ninja. But if he revealed that degree of distrust it would make the rest of the interview infinitely harder, and nowhere did Genma's record mention any extraordinary talent for lying, nor any particular inclination towards it.

Hiro didn't frown, but he wanted to. Instead he dutifully noted down Genma's discomfort and its circumstances in his newly-memorized ANBU standard-security script--carefully burying his smug satisfaction at Genma attempting to read a radical-substitution code upside down--and leaned back in his chair, shoulders relaxed. "Hayate said the infiltration of the office building went off without a hitch. Do you have anything to add?" He kept his voice conversational and friendly, hoping to set Genma at ease.

What could Hiro possibly have done to make him nervous, though? If he'd managed to not scare trembling new-minted chuunin giving their first mission-failure report--and he'd worked hard for that landmark achievement--what was making this rock-solid ANBU Hunter uncomfortable? Not the Byakugan, certainly; Genma hadn't shown any more-than-usual wariness in meeting his eyes. Hiro had remained relaxed and low-key throughout the entire session, and he in fact didn't think Genma had done anything wrong. He had no illusions that he was in any way intimidating. So what was it?

An alert and focused subject wasn't necessarily bad; if Genma's adrenaline levels raised too high, his painkillers would wear off faster, but Hiro wanted to finish up soon anyway. It wasn't getting any earlier, and he wanted to get at least halfway to the city before setting up camp.

"I don't know what Hayate told you specifically, " Genma pointed out. "So I don't know if I should be adding anything. But it went easily. We staged the mission from a secure location we'd scouted earlier--it's an old Inari shrine that's not kept up much. Knocked out the girl there. Hayate disabled the alarms, we got in and to the second flooor unnoticed. He cast sound jutsu and a screener genjutsu, I went in and had a talk with Mitsugawa. Paralyzed him with a senbon, got him to tell me where the papers were--the safe wasn't even locked. Killed him with a potassium overdose, so it'll look like coronary arrest to the locals."

Hiro was watching him now with something like wariness. Still taking notes.

Genma was too tired for this. Too tired for games. He ached in every way it was possible to ache--the pressure of the sheets on his bruises was enough to make him grimace. He was exhausted and dizzy and still felt vaguely nauseated. All he really wanted was for this interview to be over. To go back to sleep.

For Raidou to be the one sitting in that chair.

Wait, Raidou? Why had he even thought that? He squeezed his eyes shut, blinked them back open. Focus, dammit.

"Listen," he said slowly. "I don't know what you're looking for, but I don't think we slipped up. There was an ambush. Someone arranged for ninja to be there to fuck us up, but Mitsugawa is as dead as the mission specified, and so's the girl. And the papers we were told to get, we got and delivered."

Hiro blinked. What--

He knew he hadn't said anything even remotely accusatory. He'd been in control of his facial expression and tone of voice the entire time. That left... well, only one thing, that he could think of.

"I thought I've said twice now, I don't believe you slipped up either." He raised an eyebrow, and let a trickle of exasperation bleed through into his voice. "All I'm looking for is a detailed account of your time in Juunan, so I can go there safely and clean up this situation--but nobody's blaming the situation on you."

Honestly, to worry that Hiro didn't believe him just because he'd explicitly said that he did... There was such a thing as being too paranoid. But then again, this was ANBU now.

Hiro put the pencil down, flattening his palm over it, and leaned forward again. "Let's just wrap this up, okay? I can see that you're tired." He slid a hand through his hair, a vulnerable gesture--see, I'm frustrated with this just like you!-- and pointedly set pencil and clipboard aside. Having to deal with a scene during his very first ANBU debriefing assignment was not what he needed.

But Genma's shoulders relaxed near-imperceptibly at that concession, and Hiro felt some of his own tension ease. Maybe they could still get through this without too much hassle. "Hayate already told me what I need to know about the ambush and its aftermath--you did use untraceable weaponry, right?--so I just need a few more details on your "talk" with Mitsugawa, then we're done."

All at once, Hiro looked like just another agent: a young one, who had a job to do. Genma blew out a breath and stared up at the dripping IV line again. He wondered how experienced Hiro really was--evidently enough that he could be sent on a solo recon mission, but he had to be new to ANBU. Genma glanced over at him with something like a sympathetic shrug.

"Standard ANBU-issue weapons," he agreed. "A metallurgical analysis might tell you the ore was mined in Fire Country, but we export so..." So it was as untraceable as possible. No forge marks, no flourishes. A serious weapons expert might still be able to tell--there were several in Konoha's service, after all, who devoted themselves to telling one seemingly identical kunai from another--but that level of analysis was usually reserved for really high-profile cases. The death of a city councilor's assistant--even with attendant ninja battle, even if the political ties were strong--was unlikely to get the kind of detailed scrutiny that would give Konoha away.

Although... Genma groaned and scowled. "They already knew we were from Konoha. I mean the people who attacked us did. So whoever sent them knew it was us." All thoughts about Mitsugawa's final moments vanished in the face of... whatever this was. The thing that had nagged at Genma ever since they'd fled the ambush scene. There was just something wrong here. Which was why Hiro was being sent to investigate, he told himself.

"Something really stinks about this whole setup. You be careful."

They knew.

Hiro didn't have to feign the cloud of exhaustion that fell on him at that revelation; he pressed firm fingers against his temple for a moment and looked blankly across at the hospital-corner sheets.

Hayate hadn't told him--hopefully he hadn't known. Or else Intel was really going to get on him for that; this changed everything.

"Before they saw you, they knew?" Hiro looked up, still attempting to ward off an incipient headache. If they knew, he'd have to be extra-careful. To find every single person who knew Konoha was involved and scope out their weaknesses, recommending them back to internal-ops for bribery, blackmail, or a black-ops dagger in the night.

In three days, he wasn't sure if it was possible. But possible or not, he would do it.

"Well... they..." Genma shut his eyes, recalling the fight. "They'd seen us. I don't know how good a look they got at us, but by the time the woman I was fighting said anything, both Hayate and I were in deep." He turned his head to look at Hiro again. Apprehension had taken the place of calm on the Hyuuga's features.

"I don't know for sure they knew. All the woman said was something like, 'you Konoha boys are sloppy,' and it was... it was the sort of thing you say when you're about to die. Which she was. Defiant, you know? Like by saying it she could make it that way. So I don't know. Maybe she just recognized the uniform. I just..."

How to explain it? It was a gut feeling, an instinct. It was what meant the difference between a live jounin and a dead chuunin, but it was beyond rational analysis. "It's been bugging me," Genma said finally. "It's bugged me all the way till now, but I wasn't sure what. It's just a feeling... I just think they knew".

Logically, it didn't make sense. The most reasonable deduction from the facts would be that the ambushing ninja had seen the Konoha ANBU uniforms, and made the identification that way. But--

"I'll take that into account," Hiro told him seriously. A strong instinctual response from a jounin-level ninja was nothing to take lightly; their senses and observational skills were so acute that, even if their conscious minds couldn't put the facts together, their subconscious often could. He couldn't discount the possibility, now, that one or more executives in Oimikado's office knew the attack had originated in Konoha--even if it seemed that there was no way they could have known.

Of course, there was also no way they could have known about Konoha's offensive in the first place.

Hiro closed his eyes for a long moment, savoring the still darkness, then reluctantly got back to business. "Before I go, though, I still have just a few questions about your encounter with Mitsugawa," he ventured carefully. "Could you describe the deaths and the setup of the final scene a little bit more? It's important, so I understand what kind of political situation I'm likely to be walking into." He couldn't leave without that information, but he sincerely hoped Genma was feeling less touchy by now.

"You said you used potassium to mimic a heart attack?" The final arrangement of the corpses was the most significant part, dictating how Oimikado would be able to spin the situation. But the use of potassium stuck in his mind--why stage a heart attack in the midst of what was supposed to be a crime of passion?

"Heart stopped," Genma corrected. "The mission specifics were it had to look like Mitsugawa had witnessed Oimikado kill the girl first. That's how we arranged the bodies. Girl with her throat cut from behind while she was on her knees fellating Mitsugawa. Mitsugawa all horrified, with several stab wounds to the neck. Chair knocked over, papers spilled. Oimikado's dagger dropped at the scene. Lots of blood."

It had been delicate work staging the corpses. At least Mitsugawa's expression of horror had been genuine. "I gave him the K to stop his heart, so he'd die fast, but any coroner investigating will assume it failed from bleeding out."

Dead of blood loss. That was how the girl had ultimately died, deep crimson flowing from severed jugular. As for Mitsugawa, Genma had slashed the man's throat before the last electrical pulses had faded in his heart, so bright arterial blood had spurted from the wounds. He'd compressed the dead man's chest a few times just to be sure there was plenty of blood soaked into the carpet.

Exsanguination. Any coroner would be hard pressed to say that wasn't what had stopped Mitsugawa's heart.

And that's how Genma would have died, too, if Hayate's clone had been just a little slower getting them help. If his antidote had failed. If he'd left any more of his own blood reddening the leaf litter under the trees. A heart without blood to pump simply stops beating.

Nausea crept up his throat, and he took a few deep breaths, willing it away. There were some things you simply didn't think about, because they were unthinkable.

Bleeding out. And wasn't that ironic. "Clever," was all Hiro said, though. Genma's reasoning did made sense, even if it was a bit overly convoluted--trust a poisons expert to use poison for everything. A simple knock to the head would have sufficed, and would have fit the assumed murder scenario just as well as stopping his heart. But the parallels between Mitsugawa's assumed end and Genma's near miss had apparently occured to Genma too--his pupils were dilated, and his bloodless lips pressed together white in the universal signal of a man fighting his own roiling internals--so Hiro didn't press the point.

It was obvious that he was rapidly wearing out his welcome--a hard thing to do, since he hadn't had one in the first place. But Genma's long silence and faraway eyes indicated that his mind was sidetracked thoroughly elsewhere, and his tolerance to questioning had been steadily decreasing on about the same time constant as his painkillers.

Still, a debriefing was a debriefing, and Hiro wasn't leaving until he had all the information he needed to complete his own mission. "The papers," he prompted, calling Genma's attention back from wherever it had wandered. "They were in an unlocked safe, no precautions taken? No traps, no triggers?" There hadn't even been any codes, Hiro knew that from his own perusal of the documents--just a straight-out list of names.

Doesn't that seem a little strange, given that Oimikado knew about the ambush? was what he didn't say; surely Genma, even in his currently impaired state, could see that much on his own. A little thinking would do the man good, and would--with luck--distract him from his irritation long enough for Hiro to confirm his suspicions and get on his way.

The papers. Genma pulled himself roughly back to the present. Bone-deep bruises and fresh-stitched wounds were coming to life all over his body; where was the nurse? Surely it was time for them to give him something for that, and take the edge off the rising nausea. He gave Hiro a slow, unblinking look.

"I told him I wanted... documents on land grants. Something he'd be willing to let go. Didn't tell him I was looking for the donor lists. Told him I wanted well deeds." Genma swallowed with the effort of recalling. His head was starting to ache, but this was important. Had to be important, or Intel wouldn't be in here looking at him like he'd screwed up. "When I threatened him, he pissed himself, but didn't say anything. But he looked right at a wall-safe. It was behind a portrait of the daimyou, and it was unlocked. The documents we wanted were on top."

Had that been too convenient? But he'd known the documents they wanted were likely stored with the ones they had said they'd wanted. That had been in the initial mission brief, that all documents were stored in Mitsugawa's office.

"I thought I'd have to torture a combination out of the guy, but the safe was unlocked." Genma swallowed again. Maybe if he put the head of the bed down a little. Maybe if he shut his eyes, the dizzy feeling would go away again.

Well deeds, land grants, it shouldn't have mattered. Hiro had read what history he could find on Oimikado Hanabi, and all the signs indicated that she was an extremely savvy political player--certainly not the kind of person to leave important documents of any sort in an unprotected wall-safe. Especially when she knew she was being targeted for an attack.

The names on those papers had not been mere dabblers in small-city politics--Oimikado had been aiming high. Someone with those sorts of aspirations, who had lasted as long as she had, was not the kind of person to make that sort of criminally stupid mistake.

But if she--

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye called his attention back, and he turned to Genma just in time to catch the pained noise that went with it, barely qualifying as a whimper.

Curled in on himself, the injured ANBU presented a sorry sight, arm half-outstretched and eyes squeezed shut with renewed pain. Following the direction of Genma's abortive reach, Hiro winced, feeling a momentary burst of pity and an unworthy relief that he was not a Hunter. But he gingerly did what Genma hadn't been able to do himself, and resettled the hospital bed at an angle better suited for sleeping.

"I'm done here," he said quietly, unsure whether Genma was even listening. Evidently the bottom had dropped out of his painkillers in a serious way; Hiro wouldn't get anything else out of him tonight. Unfortunately the much-vaunted Hyuuga vision didn't extend to hindsight--he was sure to think of at least five questions he should have asked, once he arrived in Juunan--but that was just the way these things went. Anything he didn't know, he could either discover straight from the source, or do without.

"I'll send in the nurse on my way out, to get you some more painkillers." Hiro kept speaking softly as he picked up his clipboard and pencil, mostly just to let Genma know he was still in the room. "Thank you for your help, I'm certain we'll get all this taken care of right away.

"And, hey--" He paused, hand on the doorknob, to look back over his shoulder. A small, mostly-genuine smile--the first one of the evening--turned blank, shell-white eyes almost warm. "I do hope you get better soon."

Intel detachment was all well and good, but one of the most important lessons Hiro had learned over the years was: being nice never hurt.

With the bed more flat, the shocky, sick feeling finally started to leave. The pain remained, but it ebbed bit by bit, the longer Genma lay still. He opened his eyes. Hiro, looking far too much like Haruichi, was still there, standing just inside the door, watching him.

"I'll be running missions again in a week," Genma said with a weak, exhausted smile of his own. And knew it was true. He thought for a moment. "Make sure you pack standard antidote B in your med kit. Ask the quartermaster for it, Anti-B."

He tried to raise his head from the pillow, and instantly regretted it, falling back with a soft groan. A nurse pushed past Hiro, giving the uniformed ANBU a veiled look before turning to her patient. "You shouldn't be sitting up just yet, Shiranui-san. And by the looks of it you're hurting. Are you ready for another dose?" She didn't wait for an answer, injecting the drugs straight into the clear-line IV. "Can you roll onto your back, I need to check your dressings." She blocked Genma's sight of Hiro, and when she moved to his other side, and he could see the door again, Hiro was gone.

"Go and come back," he said to the empty doorway.

"What's that, dear?" The nurse paused in her prying up of adhesive tape over Genma's thigh.

"Nothing." He closed his eyes, and let the morphine pull him into uneasy sleep.