Chapter Text
“I heard that you spoke with Nomo Yoshiki,” Biwa-sensei said to me, his voice neutral. We were back in the Tsuchikage’s Palace for our standing Thursday evening one-on-one, and I was getting close to having a purely ninjutsu version of my clone technique. Which I obviously couldn’t use, but that hardly mattered. Because without the reliance on seals, I could submit it to R&D for however many Merits they thought it deserved.
“He sought us out,” I confirmed, hesitantly. “Who’d you hear that from? Iwao?”
I hadn’t heard them talk about it in training, but after the success of our last meeting, Biwa-sensei decided to give each of the boys some weekly personal training as well. Daigo on Tuesdays, and Iwao on Wednesdays.
“Nomo Yoshiki,” he said dryly, and I quirked an eyebrow.
“Why?” I asked, several possibilities coming to me.
“He wanted to inform me of the technique he passed down to you three,” he said, and I gave him a sheepish grin.
“I haven’t even opened the scroll yet,” I told him. “I have an idea on how to incorporate it into one of my commissions, the one for Miraigakure, but that one isn’t urgent or time sensitive. And honestly, I’m nowhere close to even being ready to return to it yet. Daigo will probably never have the ability to use Nomo-san’s jutsu, and Iwao has too much on his plate as well. Sorry we forgot to tell you, but the conversation was private, and him giving us the scroll probably slipped Iwao’s and Daigo’s minds just like it did my own. But don’t worry, we won’t touch the thing without your supervision. I can already tell from the theory behind it: that technique has the potential to be far more dangerous than any exploding tag I’ve ever developed.”
“At least you have that sense,” he said with a sigh. “As your sensei, he really should have approached me before offering you any jutsu, especially one like that. But given the context, how could I protest?”
It would have been in terrible taste. The Tsuchikage would rather have knowledge of that technique in his archives, but jutsu had more rights than some people in this world. Legally, the inventor could teach it to whoever they chose, whenever they wanted (unless said inventor belonged to R&D, and developed the jutsu on company time with company resources). They could also designate it as a family technique, which meant Iwa had even less of a claim to it. Honestly, I thought there should be a registry or something to keep all this straight, but that was probably a battle the government didn’t want to fight. Damn shinobi and their secrecy.
“Once again, you left an impression,” Biwa said, sitting back down heavily in his chair. “Why did you do that?”
I could play dumb, and make him elaborate. I chose not to.
“The conversation? Why I said what I said, you mean? Does it matter to you?”
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t. And it’s not really my business. However…”
He was uncomfortable. I couldn’t tell from any expression on his face, his body language or his tone of voice. I don’t know how I knew, but I did.
“Imai,” he said, slowly. “This is me, not assuming that you had selfish motivations. I would like to…try to understand. Because I don’t.”
My lips parted in shock for a moment before I realized and closed them. The corners of my eyes felt hot. But I didn’t want to accidentally supply negative reinforcement here, so I didn’t gush, deflect or tease.
“Since you extended me that courtesy, I will be completely upfront,” I spoke past the lump in my throat. “Even though I’m not sure how you will receive what I have to say.”
He nodded, as surprised as I was.
“I don’t actually give a fuck about Nomo Hideo,” I told him. “He was a piece of shit, and the world is better off without him. I haven’t lost a wink of sleep from killing him, and I never will. But I do care about Nomo Yoshiki. Even if I never met him before that day, he’s a comrade. And he’s not well. Wasn’t, at least. How did he seem when you spoke?”
“I…as he always has,” Biwa-sensei said, a somewhat concerned look in his eye. “Do you think he might defect?”
“No, absolutely not!” I said, firmly. “Don’t even put that idea into existence. He’s more pissed and hurt by his brother’s betrayal than anyone in the village. I think that if he were in our place, he would have put down Hideo just as we had. Actually, that’s the reason for his turmoil.”
“Explain?” he requested, and despite the subject matter I felt really, really happy.
“Nomo-san is a great shinobi, but despite what a lot of people have to say on the matter, great shinobi still feel emotions,” I said, seriously. “He raised Hideo. Survived their abusive father together. Nomo-san provided for Hideo and their mother, back when she was alive. They were brothers, but Hideo was practically his kid. If Nomo-san didn’t feel broken up about his death, missing-nin or not…I believe that would be indicative of severe character flaws, and should warrant serious investigation into his mental state. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near someone like that.”
I think Biwa-sensei was starting to understand, but he wasn’t there yet.
“He’s grieving…but he feels like he shouldn’t because Hideo was a missing-nin?”
“That would be easier,” I said solemnly. “Nomo-san feels so strongly about Hideo’s defection that he isn’t even allowing himself to grieve as he needs to. He thinks he has to be inhuman, and it's tearing him up inside. He isn’t sleeping, sensei. I could tell that from a single look. If this isn’t sorted out, he’s going to combust. Given his speciality, perhaps literally. That he was so immediately concerned with passing on his technique, much less to strangers, was a huge red flag to me. He probably won’t try to kill himself outright, but I expect him to try his damndest to work himself to death.”
Something that was quite easy to do as a shinobi.
“And I don’t want to be a bystander to that, but what the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m no one to him, just some twelve-year-old genin who happened to bring his brother to justice.”
“It’s not your responsibility,” he said, a complicated look in his eye.
“It’s everybody’s responsibility,” I implored. “Everyone who wears an Iwa hitai-ate. He doesn’t have anyone else! We owe him this for everything he’s done in our service!”
My sensei sighed heavily, looking up at the rafters.
“What do you suggest?” he asked, and what the fuck was that question? How should I know? Why was he asking me?
No, seriously, why was he asking me? Tsuchibokori no Biwa didn’t need my advice for jack shit. I was his student, a particularly troublesome one at that. He was my teacher. I would have thought he’d rather eat barbed wire than ask for my opinion on anything.
“Maybe you could invite him to our team training,” I proposed. “Give him something to focus on, something to ground him. Iwao’s good at pulling people into his orbit, and I’ll give it my best shot too.”
It was the only thing I could think of.
“You could use his jutsu gift as an in. Do that thing you always do: the make a request that sounds like an order thing.”
He wanted to refute that he did anything of the sort, I could tell, but he wanted to deny me the satisfaction even more.
“I’ll think about it,” he decided, and I actually believed him.
Three hours later, I had complete instructions for my Doton: Gaki no Batsu no Jutsu (Earth Style: Gaki’s Curse Technique). I would bring them to Date-shishō post-haste so he could help me submit it to R&D—the Futon commission would be soon to follow. Doton: Kajūgan no Jutsu (Earth Style: Weighted Boulder Technique) was so close I could almost taste it.
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
“Well, I’m seriously impressed with what you’ve been able to accomplish lately, considering all your obligations,” Date-shishō told me from across his desk, nodding in thanks to his aide who had poured us each a cup of tea. The chunin immediately made himself scarce.
“You’re going to make some jonin very happy. My staff and I always have too much on our plates to fulfil private commissions so quickly. He only submitted his request three months ago.”
Turn-around for this kind of thing could take years, as any requests from the Tsuchikage and his bureaucrats took precedence.
“He was just lucky enough to request something I was interested in,” I said with a shrug.
“Well, you can thank him for the opportunity when it’s time for you to teach him the jutsu.”
I blinked.
“What—personally?”
Couldn’t I just have R&D pass a scroll onto him?
“It’s only polite,” Date-shishō replied, bemusedly. “He paid for the commission, after all, and that isn’t cheap. As you well know, every jutsu we develop has to be submitted officially to our institution, but once that happens, we cede rights to it. Meaning, it's placed in the archives, and the one who commissioned it would have to pay for it again with Merits. I’m sure he has plenty of B-Ranks squirreled away, but it’s the principle of the matter. Have I really never told you that?”
Not that I could recall, but he might have glossed over it while I was concentrating on one of my projects. I had the tendency to tune out distractions when I was especially absorbed in something.
“We work around the rules by teaching them before we actually submit it, while we still arguably have the rights to do so. It’s a legal loophole that no one seems inclined to fix.”
Probably because only the elite could afford to commission a jutsu.
“Well, something I can look forward to,” I mumbled, hoping the client wouldn’t be annoying. “But enough on that. Have you found anything about what I approached you with last time?”
Date-shishō sighed, sinking back into his chair.
“I’ve looked through every text I thought would be relevant. Well, not personally, but Kaede-san and Takako-san gave it their all. There’s nothing about this chakra recoil you’ve described. I’m frankly at a loss.”
My heart sank. Date-shishō was my best and last hope; Biwa-sensei had no idea what I was talking about either. I know he sent out some feelers too—he was almost as frustrated with my chakra control problems as I was—but nothing came of it.
“I’ve had a couple more practice sessions with my sensor friend,” I said, heavily. “We’ve found that it has something to do with my intent. When I try to exert external control over a jutsu in a calm or unfocussed state, he can’t sense anything at all. That led me to believe it had something to do with intense anger or frustration, as if the phenomenon was somehow tied to my mental state. But then I found that, if I concentrated well enough on producing that result, he could feel it, even if I wasn’t furious.”
“So it’s responding to your desires,” Date-shishō mused. “It only presents itself when you want it to. And you said your friend can’t sense it in anyone else under identical circumstances?”
“Correct.”
Date-shishō hummed.
“This is very perplexing. It seems to me as if there are two possibilities here. Either the recoil is entirely meaningless, and merely a strange case of your intent attempting to show you what you want to see—that being, anything at all. Or, it is a true response to your attempts at external chakra control. If that is the case, your intent might be trying to bring attention to something that ordinarily couldn’t be sensed at all.”
I suddenly understood what he was getting at.
“Yin energy,” I realized, leaning forward with a frown. Chakra sensors…well, they sensed chakra. It was pretty damn self-explanatory. However, I’d never heard of a single person in history who could sense pure physical or spiritual energy in its unbound state, so it would be entirely unnoticeable to anyone who’s attempted to help me in the past.
My mentor was implying that I’d reached a level where my intent forcibly bound a trace amount of Yang energy to the Yin that formed the recoil, allowing Egress to sense it. If true, that understanding would be a big step in the right direction.
However, it brought me no closer to figuring out how to actually overcome the issue. That being, the wall that inexplicably existed and somehow blocked my chakra from reaching me. Something that, as far as my research could conclude, nobody in Iwa had experienced ever. Date-shishō even had access to transcribed texts from the warring clans era, and there wasn’t anything there either. It was a complete dead end.
“I’ll keep experimenting, then,” I said, even though I had no clear idea on how to do so. Figures the first clue I’ve found in twelve years only served to leave me with more questions.
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
I had finished three more practical tests on seal diffusal since the first, succeeding in all of them in a single attempt after completing a do-over of the first. There were more sites scattered around the village for me to practice on, I was told, and I would get to them soon enough. But Mondai-chujō was confident enough in my abilities now to actually schedule the mission. I had twenty days before my first assignment as a Akaoni.
The rest of Squad Twenty-One was shocked to hear it would be happening at all, much less so soon. I didn’t blame them. Everything was considered purely hypothetical, up until the moment it wasn’t, and since they didn’t know what my specialization was and how quickly I was advancing with it, Sūji-taichō’s announcement had practically blindsided them.
They were highly concerned, especially Sable. I’d never seen so much friction between Sūji-taichō and her vice, and the former’s approach to the situation didn’t really help things. Yes, I know she wasn’t allowed to tell Sable the details, but she could have at least tried to offer assurance instead of stone-walling her completely. I did my best outside of drills to compensate, and was treated to several venting rants.
From them, I learned that Sūji-taichō did this kind of thing with unfortunate frequency. This time was, in a sense, more palatable because Sable actually knew for a fact that there was an information freeze at play, as may have been the case in the other instances she referred to. But one reason Sūji-taichō’s approach was so infuriating was that she refused to admit most of the time if that was the case, even if asked directly. So her subordinates usually had no idea if her bullheadedness had a valid reason behind it or not.
I could certainly empathize. I’d dealt with my fair share of superiors in my past life who were too (undeservedly) prideful, and dug their heels in the dirt on principle whenever anyone questioned them. It was obnoxious and infuriating, but I somehow doubted that was the case here. Sūji-taichō didn’t seem like the type.
In fact, I was starting to wonder if she and Naiyō had a lot more in common than they appeared to. Autism wasn’t a word that had meaning in this world, and I wasn’t a professional so I tried not to diagnose someone, even privately. In the case of my friend however…like, come on. She seemed to check a new box every single day, so I felt secure applying the limited knowledge I had gained in my past life to her. I know both she and our friends were grateful that I took her idiosyncrasies in stride.
In the case of Sūji-taichō, it was a lot more difficult to tell. Especially since I never spent any time with her outside of our respective roles. That remained true until one day, as I was reviewing material in Mondai-chujō’s office.
I was riding a bit of a high at the moment. With Date-shishō’s guidance, I finally finished putting together the R&D report for my Gaki no Batsu. It contained the necessary paperwork, along with a detailed synopsis of every application, strength and weakness of the technique. I was very honest and impartial, going so far as asking Biwa-sensei to cast it on me multiple times so I could accurately measure how many Hikari per second the jutsu drained.
Truthfully, it wasn’t an astronomical amount, and had only seemed that way in the first “field test” because Hermit on Squad Twenty-Four was already running low on chakra. It would strip its target of approximately a C-rank jutsu’s worth of chakra every four seconds, which was practically an eternity in a fight. I could up that through modification, but I was already towing a line. If I was any more aggressive with that trait, defense against it would cease to become a passive process, and the target would have to actively defend themselves or take damage at the cost of all subtly. Maybe that would be useful in some cases, but it wasn’t what I was going for. I embedded a note for that potential modification in the formidably lengthy text for them to enjoy, in case that would give me another chance to bag some additional Merits in the future.
The report was done; all I had to do was submit it and give a practical demonstration. Which, of course, meant I’d need Biwa-sensei’s help, since the researchers needed to see its pure ninjutsu form. That was my new hold up, and why my Merit pouch was still sad and mostly empty. I wasn’t terrified of asking Biwa-sensei for favors anymore, but I was wary of wasting his time. I expected my Futon commission to be finished either this Thursday or next, so after I taught it to the jonin who commissioned the jutsu, I would feel better asking Biwa-sensei to demonstrate both at once.
But I digress. I was nose deep in one of the texts Mondai-chujō procured for me when I smelled smoke; something that was mildly alarming to detect so deep underground in a location of great importance to Iwagakure. Which, to my knowledge, was deserted at this time of night. When I arrived at ten (I had decided to make bunking at headquarters on Mondays and Wednesdays a weekly thing to give Kazuhiro and Kiyomi some private time), using the key Mondai-chujō gave me to get in, there was no one else.
I stood up in a flash, sniffing the air with a frown. It was definitely coming from outside Chujō’s office, but there was a strange undercurrent to the smoke. It seemed familiar, and I couldn’t immediately identify why. But it didn’t matter; this world was weird, but spontaneous combustion still wasn’t a thing. If there was smoke, there was fire, and someone to light it. That could only mean sabotage. Our headquarters had been compromised.
Ripping open the door, hurriedly locking it behind me in case the smoke was a diversion, I began to track the smell. My nose didn’t have very far to lead me, and I stalked to the end of the hall, away from the entrance to the offices. Testing the handle, I found it was unlocked and cool to the touch, so I hurriedly ripped it open, halfway through the signs for a Suiton jutsu.
Only to freeze as three pairs of eyes snapped to me.
“Arson?” Sūji-taichō asked, on her feet. She’d probably jolted to attention the moment the door handle jiggled. The others hadn’t followed suit.
“What are you doing here?”
“I am so sorry,” I began, utterly mortified as I took in both Hogo-taichō and the similarly masked mystery man she sat next to. “I was…I smelled smoke.”
There was no longer any mystery as to what caused it. Between two of Hogo-taichō’s fingers was a fat cigar, and I finally identified that mystery smell as tobacco. In my defense, I don’t recall ever encountering it in this life. Tobacco wasn’t popular here, probably because it didn’t grow in this climate. Most people couldn’t afford a vice that had to be imported.
“I told you that you shouldn’t smoke here,” my current captain scolded Hogo-taichō.
“I thought we were alone,” the woman defended. “Why the fuck are you here? It’s past midnight!”
It wasn’t, but I didn’t feel the need to correct her.
“I was studying in Chujō’s office,” I explained, distractedly. “I just thought…I don’t know, that there might have been an incursion or something. Don’t mind me, I’ll just—”
“Hold on,” the room’s last occupant said, his voice rich and confident. “You’re Arson, huh? The one everyone’s been talking about. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Not knowing how to take that, I looked to Sūji-taichō for guidance.
“I suppose the two of you haven’t met, have you?” she realized. “Arson, this is Theorem. He’s the Taichō of Squad Twenty-Two.”
I appraised the man in a new light. This was Wonder’s taichō? I had to admit, he looked the part. Though it was difficult to tell the specifics when he was sitting so relaxed, he seemed every bit as tall as Sūji-taichō, and nearly as muscular as Hogo-taichō. The skin on his exposed arms was tan and rugged, and with his hooded vest missing I could see dark, side-swept hair. It wasn’t nearly as greasy as most shinobi’s would be; he washed it regularly,, which was uncommon here.
“Nice to meet you,” I said reflexively, looking over to Hogo-taichō as she took a drag of her cigar. I was a little uncomfortable, and I dealt with discomfort through sass.
“Diversity hire?” I asked the coolest taichō.
“Huh?” she asked through a stream of smoke.
“I mean, he’s the first taichō I’ve met in this division that’s a guy,” I explained, regretting opening my mouth. At least she appreciated my joke once she caught my meaning. That's what I took her choking to mean, anyway.
“I assure you, Theorem is quite deserving of his position,” Sūji-taichō began, but was cut off.
“Well, you know the male ego, Arson,” Hogo-taichō spluttered. “We had to give one of them the title, otherwise they’d all quit.”
I cast a cautious glance at Theorem-taichō, but he seemed to take the jab with good grace and a light chuckle.
“I see why you’ve taken a shine to her, at least,” he said to his shorter peer, before looking back to me. “Hogo loves a smoke, but she refuses to support the Hi no Kuni economy. So, every time I take a mission out East, I make sure to steal her a cigar or two in the hopes she’ll one day take a shine to me. How’s that going, Hogo?”
“Die in a ditch, Theorem,” she deadpanned, and he offered me a self-deprecating shrug.
“It’s been three years,” he said, solemnly, before jerking his head to an open seat. “Sit down, if you aren’t pressingly busy. I’d like to bend your ear about fūinjutsu, it’s always fascinated me.”
“Theorem, no,” Sūji-taichō protested. “We’re not supposed to fraternize.”
“Fraternize? No, this is strictly professional,” he said with an easy smile, and I imagined Hogo-taichō’s eyes ping-ponging between the two of them.
“I’m not in a state to have a professional conversation,” Sūji-taichō hissed, and that was when I noticed the curves of a tokkuri peeking about behind her chair’s legs, which were too thin to hide it entirely. I bet she quickly hid the flask from view the millisecond she noticed my approach from behind the closed door.
Kami, Sūji-taichō was drunk! Hell, probably all of them were! I wouldn’t have even fucking noticed!
The smart part of me wanted to flee. The less smart part of me realized I’d never have this opportunity ever again, and begged to take advantage.
Three guesses as to which of the two won?
“I was just studying,” I said, nonchalantly. “I can spare a few questions.”
“You’ll be here all night,” Hogo-taichō warned me. “His name isn’t for show. If something gets him going, I can’t get him to shut up.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Because I love talking about fūinjutsu. Don’t worry though, he probably won’t understand most of what I tell him. No one ever does.”
“We won’t know until we try, will we?” he asked challengingly, a perfect, blindingly-white smile on his face.
“I’m not comfortable with this,” Sūji-taichō said, crossing her arms.
“Relax, Numbers,” Hogo-taichō cajoled. “Arson has the sense not to tell anyone about this. She must know we’ll ruin her if she does.”
“Yeah, I figured,” I said, dryly.
“Sit, you,” Theorem-taichō said soothingly, gently grabbing Sūji-taichō by the arm and tugging her back to her seat. I was surprised she let him—was it the alcohol? Glancing briefly at the arrangement of the chairs, I noticed something interesting. Sūji-taichō’s and Theorem-taichō’s chairs were close together. Closer than Sūji-taichō’s was to Hogo-taichō’s, anyway. With the empty chair I was offered as a buffer, Theorem-taichō was as far from Hogo-taichō as the small table would allow, corroborating his statement from earlier. She didn’t like him.
Sūji-taichō, on the other hand, did.
Interesting.
“It will be fine,” he said. “Please?”
I could practically see her cave to his obscured puppy dog eyes.
Very interesting.
“Do as you like,” she said, audibly miffed, and I took the chair.
“What is your security clearance?” I asked to feel things out.
“Arson, we’re taichō of the division that deals with intelligence,” he said. “We have S-rank clearance.”
I raised my hands in surrender.
“Alright, alright. Was just making sure.”
“The taichō of other divisions might only have up to A,” Sūji-taichō warned, which was good to know. I nodded.
“That makes things easier,” I said. “Fūinjutsu is an art with limitless potential, and I mean that quite literally. Anything you imagine can theoretically be done, though the seals might require enough chakra to kill you upon activation.”
I explained how the twelve basic hand seals could be found in fūinjutsu, along with many, many other “words.” I told him about connections, and signatures, and all sorts of stuff. Theorem-taichō, to his credit, was an attentive and insightful student. Turns out he was a nerd just like me, although I should have figured that from his chosen name. He even did some work for R&D, and though he professed that his talents lay more on the science side of things, he knew quite a bit about chakra.
“I can’t help but wonder what we could make by combining fūinjutsu and technology,” he mused.
“Probably a hell of a lot,” I said, honestly. “Of course, civilians wouldn’t be able to use any conveniences. And unless we were able to make them with class one seals, most shinobi wouldn’t either. But here’s one thing I had in mind. This is all theoretical, but one of my R&D commissions has to do with transporting water between two distant locations. I’m sure you all have encountered the issue with sealing away water.”
“Yeah, that it doesn’t work,” Hogo-taichō grumbled.
“Because?” I asked leadingly, and though the other women didn’t have an answer, Theorem-taichō did. It was correct, too.
“My current, purely hypothetical solution is to increase the pressure, bringing the molecules closer together so that my chakra can select a hell of a lot more of it at once. Hopefully, I’ll have the skills to test that in a couple months or so. But I’m bringing this up because I don’t want to stop at water. I have an idea to invent compressed oxygen tanks, which will contain far more air on the inside than they appear to.”
“To what end?” Theorem-taichō asked, transfixed as he leaned forward towards me.
“You could travel great distances underwater without having to surface,” I proposed. “But more pressingly, it could be used by our new Sky Division. They have a limit to how high up they can fly, since the atmosphere thins at great altitudes. If they have enough oxygen, they can go higher than people on the ground can even see, and drop explosives behind enemy lines. Or, if necessary, deliver supply drops to companies that runners can’t reach due to enemy action.”
“That’s…wow, that’s far more useful than what I was thinking you’d say,” he said, amazed.
I snorted.
“What was your idea, then?”
“To fight through heavy aerosol poisons,” he said. “Although that would only be relevant in extremely niche situations. Besides, gas masks with filters already exist.”
“Either way, it could be a useful invention,” I said. “You know, I’m great at chakra work, but I don’t have the resources to manufacture mechanisms like the ones this would need. The tank has to be incredibly sturdy to survive that amount of pressure. And there would have to be a valve with a mask, and in the refill station a kind of filter to ensure the air we put inside is pure. Combustion would be a huge risk too, so that's something we would have to be cognizant of. Do you think you might be able to get one or two of those made as a prototype?”
“Sure, especially if we get the Sky Division on board,” he said. “Having their backing would open a lot of doors. They’re making waves, I heard.”
I smiled widely, so fucking glad I followed my gut and stayed. I didn’t know how drunk Theorem-taichō was, if at all, but he might not be quite as approachable at normal hours.
“I’ll seek you out when I have time to do some more theory work,” I promised, a broad grin under my mask. “This will be fun!”
“Ugh, kami,” Hogo-taichō groused. “He’s hooked another one, completely by accident. Hate to break it to you, Arson, but pretty boy’s taken.”
I felt a little bad for the hysterics that sent me into. Although the second part of that certainly didn’t escape my notice.
Very, very interesting.
“Ha! No offense, Taichō,” I said to Theorem. “You’re objectively a good looking man, from what little I can see of you, but you aren’t at all my type.”
“Thank kami,” Hogo-taichō said, gleefully. “Looks like I won’t have to reevaluate my opinion of you, Arson. Should have known you have better taste than that.”
“Ouch,” Theorem-taichō deadpanned, but he didn’t seem too broken up over it.
“Please, Arson, if you would expound on how exactly Theorem isn’t your type,” she continued. “He could use the ego kick.”
“Hogo!” Sūji-taichō snapped, and was once again ignored.
“What do you want me to say?” I said with a shrug. “He just isn’t my type. That can’t be that strange.”
“What specifically,” she pressed, and I squinted at her. She was being awfully pushy, and it didn’t take me long to realize why.
She already knew. She just wanted to see if I’d say it. Very well; I’ll play along.
“Well, once again, it’s hard for me to see much of him in this uniform,” I mused. “I think a big turn off for me is the chest. He’s got an impressive bust, I will admit, but I prefer mine softer.”
Hogo-taichō threw herself back so hard her chair almost fell over, laughing so hard she wheezed. Theorem, to my relief, merely chuckled, while Sūji-taichō buried her face in her hands at the abandonment of decorum.
“I had a feeling!” she exclaimed. “But I couldn’t say for sure. Kami, this is excellent!”
I had a feeling about her too. Clearly she preferred the platonic companionship of women to men; that was obvious in our very first encounter, though she played it off as a gender rivalry thing. Beyond that, it came down to her overall vibe. But hey, you could never know until someone confirmed it.
That being said, Hogo-taichō was acting a little too cocksure for my tastes. Did I dare do something to remedy that?
Eh, screw it. She seemed like she could take a joke.
“You seem awfully excited to hear that,” I mused. “Relieved you have a chance?”
Sūji-taichō’s reaction to that was the funniest. She seemed so affronted that I could barely stifle my giggle. Hogo-taichō was almost as caught off-guard, but she recovered quickly.
“That would be fraternization,” she deadpanned, and I think she regretted that particular response as Sūji-taichō’s gaze snapped to her.
“So when I’m promoted I’ll hit you up,” I said, casually. “Understood.”
“Wait no, that’s not—” she began, looking warily at a very still Sūji-taichō. She probably thought her peer would rat her out, and I didn’t blame her. I liked Sūji-taichō, but she was a stickler and they already fought like cats and dogs. I was surprised to see them voluntarily hanging out together outside of work hours at all. Especially since I was getting the strong impression Hogo was a third-wheel, here.
“You’re not my type, shorty,” she settled on, though she must have at least acknowledged her loss internally. I snorted at my win, leaning back in my chair with a smirk.
“Maybe I will be when I’m finished growing,” I said, remembering this body was twelve and they knew that. “But I suppose you’re old enough to be my mother, and that would probably make things weird.”
“Oi, how old do you think I am?” she said, offended.
“Kami, at least in your thirties, right?” I asked. “Maybe late twenties, but the statement still applies.”
From the silence at the table, and all of their stares, I got the sense that I was missing something.
“I think there’s a calculation error to that equation,” Theorem-taichō said, and I raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t think I know how to add?”
“I’m actually praying that you don’t, because otherwise you would be a fucking child,” Hogo-taichō joked, and that was the moment I realized that they did not, in fact, know that I was twelve. I suppose S-rank clearance didn’t mean that they went out looking for secrets.
“Shit, guess I don’t know how to add,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh. “In my defense, it’s late, and I just spent hours on mind-bending theory.”
“I’ll take the excuse, but I won’t let you forget it,” Hogo-taichō told me.
“Fair enough,” I acquiesced, feeling the weight of Sūji-taichō’s gaze on me.
Quick, change the subject. Let’s see, what were we talking about before? Hold on, if the shorty remark wasn’t a jab at my age, then that means…
“So, you like tall girls, huh, taichō?”
Well, it seemed to work, at least. Although not in the way I intended.
“Enough!” Sūji-taichō said strongly, jumping to her feet. “This is not the type of conversation we should be having with our subordinates, and it is certainly not the type of conversation that you should be supporting.”
The you was aimed at Hogo-taichō.
“Easy, Numbers, It’s just good fun,” the shorter red-head attempted, and out the corner of my eye I saw Theorem-taichō facepalm.
To my surprise, Sūji-taichō didn’t argue, and instead let out the most emotive scoff I ever heard. It was outrage, disgust, disbelief and…hurt? All rolled into one. Then, she turned heel and stalked right out of the room.
“Shit,” Hogo-taichō groaned, pushing herself up as well. “Numbers!”
She also left, in pursuit of her fellow taichō. Yet another decision that took me by surprise this evening.
“You’re not going to go after them?” I asked Theorem, who conspicuously remained behind.
“I’ve known Sūji for a long, long time,” he revealed to me. “So I know better than to chase her when she gets like this.”
With a snort, I got to my feet, and he followed a few seconds behind. I’m sure he’d be there for her when she returned to him. Hopefully with some frustration sex—I got the sense that Sūji-taichō could really benefit from it.
“It was very nice to meet you,” he told me.
“Likewise,” I told him. “Once I come up with anything of substance for our project, I’ll have Wonder track you down for me. We’re becoming fast friends.”
“Good, he deserves more than he has,” the taichō said, warmly. It was then that I decided I really liked Theorem-taichō.
“But you should focus more on yourself,” he cautioned. “Two weeks before you’re thrown into the deep end. Focus all your energy on what matters.”
I nodded.
Two weeks. I had two weeks until the toughest mission of my career so far kicked off.
And I would be ready.
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
Days later, I stepped into our headquarters, and knew immediately that something had shifted. There was a strange energy in the air, and the usually empty corridors were all occupied.
Clusters of Division Five personnel—operatives and analysts alike—were speaking to each other in hushed whispers, and the tension was palpable. A heavy weight settled atop my spine.
Something had happened. Something big. And in the current geopolitical climate, that was rarely a good thing.
Heart in my throat, I approached the nearest group, made up of analysts I’d seen in passing but didn’t know the names of. I heard bits of their conversation as I got closer.
“—I know, I know. But it’s confirmed. The body is in our custody. Director Handan verified it personally. They wouldn’t have paid out that sum unless it was totally legitimate. I heard there was some sort of bloodline that proved its authenticity.”
“But who got him?” another asked. “We knew next to nothing about him, but with that bounty, he couldn’t have been a pushover.”
“Some missing-nin from Taki,” the first answered. “A dark horse if I ever saw one. Pretty sure everyone thought he died long ago. This whole situation is insane.”
“What is insane?” I asked urgently, now close enough. “What happened?”
The group all turned to regard me. I didn’t shy away from their expressionless masks.
“The missing-nin with the outrageous bounty. Muzan,” the first dude told me, and I tensed at the name. But I could never have anticipated his next words.
“Someone got him. He’s dead.”
I could only blink at him, disbelieving.
Kakuzu. Dead. Body in custody. Totally legitimate.
What the fuck was going on?