Chapter 9

“Okay. You have the list of ingredients for commonly used poisons and their antidotes,” Soriya informed the crowded classroom. She had requested Kakashi ask his chunin to have everyone attend the earlier session that day. There were tasks requiring her attention that she didn't feel comfortable putting off any longer.

“Over the next two weeks, in addition to your other assignments, I want you to memorize this information. We will not be meeting here in the classroom during this time.” Soriya paused as faces broke into wide grins. She let them enjoy it for a moment. Then she burst the bubble.

“However, you must each go to the hospital to see Dr. Rukia Sonata, our resident poison expert. She'll be expecting you at one of these listed times each week. Everyone must schedule two visits.” The kunoichi indicated a sign up sheet on her desk. Since there are twenty-two of you, I've broken the class into five groups, four with four people, and one group of six. I'll leave it to you to choose the time slots that best suit your schedules. However,” her tone was a warning, “be sure to attend both sessions.

“It is vital you master this material. Therefore, as added motivation, I will be administering a practical exam. Believe me when I tell you it is in your best interests to know this information cold,” she avowed, waiting for the question.

As usual, Sakura's hand was first in the air. “Soriya-sensei, just how will we be tested?” she queried, suspicion evident in her tone.

“I'm glad you asked, Sakura,” Soriya nodded approvingly. “I'm going to treat each of you, in small groups, to lunch. Where I will poison some, or all of you.” Her lips widened in a feral smile as gasps sounded throughout the room.

“Nothing too fast-acting, of course. I want you to detect the poison used, by smell or taste, and request one of the antidotes I'll have available. I urge you to know this material backwards and forwards so you know what to ask for. If you're wrong, there is the very real possibility of death, just as there would be during a mission.”

Several exclamations of alarm erupted from the shocked chunin. Soriya scanned the rounded eyes in the faces staring back at her. Using a placating tone, she attempted to calm them without being too reassuring.

A healthy dose of fear is a good thing if it keeps them alive.

“Don't be overly alarmed,” she soothed. “There will be a medic-nin standing by during testing, just in case. But, I hope you will all heed my advice, as I would prefer not to have to rely on this precaution. Complacency gets shinobi killed.

“Take advantage of Dr. Sonata's knowledge and expertise. She will have samples of each poison and its antidote, so familiarize yourselves with them. She'll also impart the usual modes of transmission for each substance, plus signs and symptoms that present in an affected target. Know them. As shinobi, you will most assuredly use this knowledge someday. Either to take, or save a life.” She added darkly, “Quite possibly, even your own.”

The silence in the classroom was deafening. Until Shikamaru, grimacing, muttered under his breath, “Huh. Getting poisoned. Sounds like a drag.”

Nervously, the rest of the class laughed. Soriya grinned at the ponytailed chunin.

“You'll find out in a few weeks. I'll post the testing schedule on the classroom door in two weeks' time. Be sure to check it out. Until then, study hard. And good luck! Class dismissed.” She waved jauntily as the chunin rose, filing out of the room.

Don't forget to sign up for Dr. Sonata,” she called out a reminder. “Sakura, can you please post this sheet on the door for me?” she asked.

The pink-haired kunoichi glanced up from waiting for her friend, Ino, who was gathering her things together.

“Uh, sure, Soriya-sensei. I could drop it by your house tomorrow if you like,” the green-eyed chunin offered.

“There's no need for that. I probably won't be there anyway.”

“Are you taking a trip?” Sakura asked, curious.

“You could say that,” Soriya agreed enigmatically.

“Where to?”

The jonin shrugged a shoulder, replying casually, “Nowhere special. Just a short trip over Tiger Falls.” Literally.

“See you in a couple of weeks, Sakura.”

Gathering her papers under one arm, Soriya expertly cast a translocation ninjutsu, leaving the younger kunoichi slightly perplexed as she slowly faded from sight.

The clang of metal on metal rang down the empty corridor as the redheaded kunoichi approached the enclosure at the far end. Heat billowed through the doorway, emanating from the glowing forge lining the open back wall of the building. Clearly in use, it spat crackling embers into the well-ventilated space.

It had been over two years since Soriya had last set foot inside this place.

The ringing stopped abruptly, and she spied the gnarled old weaponsmith leaning over his apprentice's anvil. Scrutinizing the young man's work with a keen eye, he rested a palm on the man's burly shoulder, nodding gruffly. He gestured toward the nearby tub of cooling water.

Carefully, the ponytailed apprentice maneuvered his newly forged knife blade into the water with a pair of large iron tongs. As steam hissed and popped, the weaponsmith turned. He caught sight of Soriya standing casually in the doorway. Raising a hand to his pointed, graying beard, he studied her with piercing black eyes. She withstood his cool gaze, arms crossed, ceding nothing. Finally, the wizened man's lips pursed in what those who knew him well would recognize as a smirk. He grunted shortly.

“So. You've come at last. Took you long enough to find the courage.”

The kunoichi blinked, eyes narrowing slightly. Straightening from her relaxed stance, she ignored the implied insult. Aruka Yamota had never been one to mince words. Surprisingly, it was one of the things she liked best about him. Uncrossing folded arms, she tugged lightly at the short, black mini-skirt she wore.

“Do you still have it, Aruka-sensei?”

He snorted derisively, motioning her to follow him back down the hallway from which she'd come. Several doors lined both sides of the corridor, but the stout, old weaponsmith bypassed them all. Finally, he stopped at the last door on his left. Drawing out a key, he unlocked the heavy steel portal, resting his palm firmly above the handle a moment. Soriya counted the space of three heartbeats before the man nodded to himself, turned the handle and pushed open the door.

A chakra-keyed security system. Fancy.

He flipped on the overhead light.

“Come,” he directed without looking back, momentarily leaving Soriya standing alone in the hall.

Slowly, she stepped through the doorway, eyes darting around the room with interest. Weapons of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, their sharpened edges gleaming in the light. Katana, kunai, spears, shuriken, even a large zanbatou, typically for use against a mounted foe, were displayed here. Each one beautiful and deadly, Soriya knew. Yet not what she sought.

Unerringly, the old smith moved toward a row of boxes stacked against the far wall. Deceptive in his strength, the elderly man easily hefted the weight of the uppermost boxes in one arm, freeing the box he sought from underneath. Cradling it against his chest as though it were a babe, he replaced the others, then moved to the waist-high stone slab placed squarely in the center of the room. Setting his burden down gently, Yamota turned the container so that it opened facing the kunoichi.

“I'm glad you've returned for it,” he offered gruffly, thumbing the catch and raising the lid. “It'd be a shame for such a beautiful weapon to wile away the time unappreciated in some dusty old box.”

Soriya allowed the ghost of a smile to grace her lips, looking down at the object nestled in its velvet lining. “I doubt any dust would ever dare to settle here, Aruka-sensei.” She paused, then added quietly, “I could not come, before. Only recently, have I been able to see past her death. And his.” The kunoichi bowed her head a moment, as the old man's creased face softened.

“I would have liked to hear Hagane-san's opinion on my efforts. I enjoyed the crafting of it, truth be told. Wouldn't let the apprentices touch it, though they begged.” He laughed shortly.

“Emiko would have been more than pleased, I'm certain,” Soriya assured him. Her hands hovered over the contents of the case. “May I?”

“Of course. You paid for it, after all.”

Sadly, Soriya replied, “Indeed, I have.”

Gingerly, the kunoichi lifted the weapon out of its container. The dark matte finish of the arcing metal bow seemed to drink the light, casting no reflection. The polished mahogany stock fit perfectly in Soriya's hand. Decorative scrollwork lined the grip below the trigger, lending an elegance to the weapon's deadly beauty. The crossbow's prod, or bow, measured a mere width of eight inches, while the overall length of the weapon from tip to butt was slightly under ten inches. Easily concealed, should she so desire. It was an assassin's weapon: powerful, silent, and unfailingly lethal in the right hands.

Her hands, now.

The weaponsmith carefully took the miniature crossbow from Soriya's admiring fingers. He demonstrated the lever used to draw the prod back to its maximum tension. The one-handed mechanism slid noiselessly into place, readying the crossbow with a barely audible “click”.

“The draw of a crossbow this size is short, and generally not very powerful, as compared to a larger weapon with a longer draw,” Yamota explained. “However, I have added the lever mechanism to allow for a tighter draw than could be achieved by merely pulling the prod back by hand. It requires some small effort on your part, but the force and distance the weapon gains is vastly increased. The range is still limited, however, if accuracy is required.”

Soriya nodded. This last was typical.

“What is the maximum range?”

He snorted. “Far more than you could possibly rely on for accuracy. Roughly 120 meters.” At her look of surprise, he shrugged, expression slightly smug. “It is a crossbow, after all. And a particularly fine one, at that. But, I'll caution you once more. You're not likely to hit anything at that distance, unless your target is the broad side of a barn.” He released the draw, handing the weapon back to her.

“Hmm. I'll keep it in mind,” she acknowledged absently. “How much force does it generate at a distance of, say, twenty meters?” she asked, left hand drawing and releasing the mechanism several times to memorize the feel of it.

“Enough to punch through plate armor if your aim is true,” he harrumphed at her.

“No need to worry about my aim, old man.” Soriya smiled a predatory smile. “The bolts? And the holster?”

“Here.” He slid a small bandolier belt across the stone slab. “Four bolts, each with a four-pronged quarrel head. Merely devastating if taken in a limb, absolutely lethal if the vitals are struck,” he promised. “If you need more than four, the weapon won't save you.”

As Soriya nodded her understanding, the weaponsmith added, “I threw in a couple of blunts for target practice. Don't want you dulling my quarrel tips while you get the balance down.”

The kunoichi quirked a brow at him.

“Thanks. Though I am somewhat familiar with the weapon, you know. Who do you think helped Emiko test the early designs?” After a moment, she relented, “Though I admit, this weapon is markedly superior to Emiko's earlier models.” She smiled. “It seems the price of a master smith's touch is well worth the exorbitant cost.”

Yamota grunted, though she could tell he was pleased with the praise. Passing her the black leather holster, he demonstrated the correct placement of the weapon into its sheath. Soriya held out her arms, allowing the weaponsmith to move behind her, looping the leather harness over slender shoulders. The unfamiliar weight tugged at the kunoichi's cropped black jacket and spandex top. She shrugged, eventually settling the crossbow at her upper back. After assuring herself that a quick right-handed reach over the shoulder allowed an easy draw of the weapon, Soriya donned the bandolier, adjusting the fall of the belt diagonally across her body from right to left.

“How does it look?” she asked, holding still under his penetrating appraisal.

Yamota made some minor adjustments to the fall of the bandolier, then stood back, admiring his handiwork. Fingers rose to his beard once more and he nodded approvingly.

“Excellent. I cannot see the weapon at all from the front, though the bandolier does give it away, somewhat. Perhaps you should consider a waist belt for the bolts instead?”

“I have something that should work. I'll think on it,” Soriya promised. She hesitated, then added haltingly, “Thank you, Aruka-sensei. You've really outdone yourself here. Emiko would have loved this weapon, truly. I'll do my best to bear it in her stead.” Long lashes swept down, brushing alabaster cheeks, then rose to meet his gaze. “She would've liked that, don't you think?”

The master smith eyed the woman before him silently, black orbs unblinking in his wizened face. As the kunoichi turned to leave, he spoke.

“Weapon like that deserves a name. What will you call her?”

She paused in the doorway, long ponytail swaying slightly. Aloud, she mused, “This is a weapon for stalking prey; its strike is swift and silent.” She faced him, then bowed. “I will call her 'Cat's Eye'.”

With that, she was gone. The weaponsmith stared at the spot the jonin had just vacated.

“A fitting name, that,” he decided. “And a fitting weapon for that one, as well.”

Turning back to the stone slab, he closed the now-empty box. Tucking it under one arm, he returned the room to order. He flipped off the light, stepping out to shut and lock the door behind him. Placing a palm above the handle to rearm the sensor, he allowed a grin to twist his lips. If his apprentice noticed the rare expression when he returned to the smithy, the young man was wise enough not to comment on it.

The Copy Ninja halted in front of the gate that led to the Hokage's Tower. He considered his objectives once more. The first one being: get Soriya reinstated to full jonin status as soon as possible.

To this end, Soriya had agreed he should brief the Hokage on the kunoichi's suspicions regarding Akira Kanzin and his supposed death. Kakashi had also persuaded her to let him inform Tsunade of the details of her battle with Yukio Ryuji and his men. She'd resisted at first, willing to let the uncertainty surrounding those events cast a pall over her future as a ninja. A penance for sins committed, she'd called it.

He had argued forcefully against this, eventually appealing to her strong sense of duty. If Tsunade distrusted her, Soriya would not be permitted to use her abilities in ways that could best benefit and protect the village. The telepath was unwilling to risk the loss of life that could theoretically result, and so he had won. Though she hadn't been happy about it, he recalled, wincing slightly.

Kakashi had very carefully avoided mentioning that allowing him to explain the incident would possibly save Soriya's life. Their trust and intimacy was too new for him to accurately predict her reaction. He preferred not to chance it, merely accepting the gift of her eventual assent. He had been appropriately grateful, driving all thoughts of guilt and anger from her mind, at least for the next hour or so.

The elite jonin cracked a smug grin from behind his mask. He'd definitely ask Tsunade to discontinue the ANBU surveillance on Soriya. It would quickly become an inconvenience—one that he didn't want to deal with on a daily basis, now that she was no longer recuperating at home.

With these goals firmly fixed in his mind, the Copy Ninja winked at the security camera above the door, offering a jaunty wave. ANBU should've had plenty of time to alert the Hokage to his presence. Passing easily through the gateway, Kakashi entered the Tower.

Inside, the immense atrium took up most of the first floor. At the moment, it was quiet and seemingly empty, save for the alert chunin seated behind a large counter at the far end of the room. Kakashi crossed the vast exposed space nonchalantly, strolling over to the brown-haired man. He kept his arms loosely at his sides, hands open. Though the room appeared deserted, he knew any sudden or threatening movement on his part would be exceedingly unwise.

The circular room's ceiling was high, ringed by a balcony with shadowed alcoves. There were undoubtedly bowmen present, and at this range, they could hardly miss. He did not wish to test his Sharingan and reflexes because of a misunderstanding. The space between the elite jonin's shoulder blades itched, but he ignored the sensation, focusing on the young man seated at the desk.

“My name is Kakashi Hatake. I need to speak with the Hokage. Is she available?”

“Place your hand here, Hatake-san.” The chunin gestured to a square metal sensor with the outline of a hand imprinted on its surface.

The Copy Ninja complied, as the meticulous shinobi checked a readout on one of the many monitors behind the counter. After a moment, he nodded. “Go on up, Hatake-san. She's expecting you.” The chunin indicated the steps leading to the western balustrade. “Take those stairs to the third floor. The Hokage is in her office.”

“Thanks.”

Kakashi turned, moving leisurely toward the stairway. As he mounted the stone stairs, his hands slipped into trouser pockets, mind focusing on the upcoming interview.

The third floor arrived quickly, and was much busier. People scurried here and there, often with thick sheafs of documents filling their arms. The shinobi's eyebrow rose.

Wonder what all the fuss is about?

Approaching the Hokage's office door, he saw it was flanked by two chunin, visibly armed with katana.

Unusual. Tsunade's not usually so paranoid. She must be trying to impress someone.

“Yo,” he greeted the guards.

The man on the right, recognizing the Copy Ninja, said, “Go on in, Kakashi. But be careful, she's in a mood.”

“Thanks for the warning, Ryoma.” His dark eye gleamed with mischief. “But I think I'll knock.”

“Don't say I didn't warn you,” Ryoma shrugged, as the jonin reached out, rapping knuckles sharply against the oak-framed door.

“What?!” snapped the Hokage's voice from within. “No more reports, Shizune, I mean it!” she roared, as Kakashi stuck his head in the door.

Laconically, he observed, “You seem a little stressed, Tsunade.” He noted the piles of papers scattered across her desk. “Shizune keeping you busy, I see.”

The Hokage, youthful blond visage somewhat marred by the pair of reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, grimaced. “It's all the preparation for the summit this fall. It's burying me in paperwork!” she complained. “The only good thing is that Leaf Village won't have to play host again for a few years. What a security and logistics nightmare! Almost makes me hope I'm dead by then,” she grumbled darkly.

“I can come back later, if you'd prefer,” Kakashi offered, mirth lacing his voice.

“Oh, no, you don't! Get in here and save me from all these reports,” Tsunade commanded. “And next time, don't bother with all the security nonsense. I haven't time to be approving your every visit. Just drop in through the window like last time,” she huffed.

“Last time, you wanted me to knock,” he reminded her, entering the office and closing the door behind him. “I thought I'd comply this once, just for fun. What's with the guards, anyway? ANBU is usually more discreet.”

She snorted. “They're for the benefit of the 'coordinators' the future guests of the summit have seen fit to foist upon me. Every day it's something else.” Her voice whined, in imitation of the most annoying offenders. “Lord X's delegation just can't be housed near the delegation from the land of Y, because they hate each others' guts. Not to mention Lord Z's delegation, who pretends neutrality in order to broker a peace, while secretly undermining it to sell arms to both sides on the sly.” She rubbed her forehead. “There are days when I hate this job. Please, tell me you're going to brighten up my dreary day. What have you to report?”

The Hokage resettled herself in her chair, shoving stacks of papers to one side. Impatiently, she gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

The Copy Ninja took the proffered seat, beginning his narrative in smooth, easy tones. Starting with the events at the Itasuki residence two nights ago, he described his observations of the telepath's actions to aid her friend. He also related the conversation with Enya Ryusuki, and Soriya's subsequent summoning of Bathsheba and Ra. He deliberately omitted his snooping in Soriya's dresser and the letter he found secreted there. That was personal, and nobody's business.

Tsunade's brow wrinkled at the mention of Bathsheba and Ra.

“Huh. Those two again? That must have been fun,” she teased. “You know, the psych-nin wanted to pin them both to the wall by their long, slinky tails by the time Soriya was released.”

“I can certainly imagine it,” he remarked dryly. “But they do seem to be able to replenish chakra, and perhaps even heal the chakra pathways to some extent. She was much recovered by the time I returned from town, which could not have been longer than an hour and a half.”

Quietly, he added, “By the way, Soriya is aware that we've spoken. She also knows of my conversation with Enya. I could not keep it from her, nor would I want to. We agreed I'd report to you right now, in fact.” He faced the Hokage squarely. “If I'm to help save her, as you've asked, she has to trust me. And I have to be worthy of that trust. Understand this.”

Tsunade observed him in silence. Kakashi returned the amber gaze soberly, his expression guarded. After a moment, she nodded. He continued his narrative.

In a bland, emotionless tone, he relayed the events of the dream into which Soriya had unwittingly pulled him. Though the shinobi's voice was calm, his fists clenched where they rested on bent knees, betraying his rage. He spared himself nothing. If she could conceive the plan and survive its implementation, he could tell the story to aid her. He contented himself with describing Ryuji's gory death in great detail, satisfaction evident in his dark eye. He went on, relating the strange manifestation of Soriya's Kekkei Genkai.

“Soriya doesn't believe she could summon that magnitude of power at will. She feels it was the shock of Natsu's death and the subsequent threat to her own life that forced the instinctive reaction.”

“So you are saying she cannot control it?” Tsunade pressed him.

The Copy Ninja hesitated. He was on dangerous ground here. “Not exactly,” he hedged. “Clearly, she did exercise some restraint. She resisted attacking the men until one of them foolishly exhorted the others to kill her. And she merely held them in thrall initially, before ultimately sending them to their fates. At great personal risk to her own life, not to mention, her sanity.”

“Yet she did kill them all...even the men not physically in the immediate area,” the Hokage pointed out.

Kakashi shrugged, meeting her gaze levelly. “She made a judgment call in the heat of battle. She tested them with her power. They failed. It's no more than any shinobi in her place would have done, had they her ability.”

Tsunade cocked her head. “Perhaps,” she allowed, noncommittally.

The Copy Ninja pressed his case, appealing to the Hokage's practical nature. “If she could learn to actively summon and control this power, it could be exceedingly useful to the village.”

Tsunade smiled wryly. “Well, I see Soriya definitely has a champion in you. What else have you discovered?”

“From recollections gleaned from Yukio Ryuji's mind, Soriya believes her uncle, Akira Kanzin, is alive. She thinks he may have engineered his own kidnapping, then faked his death at Ryuji's hands. Ryuji feared him, from what she could gather. If Kanzin survived the fall over the Ganji, he may have been using Ryuji as a puppet.”

The Hokage's eyes narrowed. “To what end?”

Kakashi shrugged. “As of now, we can only guess. But if the information from Sand is accurate indicating that Ryuji was behind both Sumao and Kurumi Kanzin's disappearance, as well as the murders of Mika and Yoshi Itasuki, then it seems to me that Soriya has been Kanzin's target all along.”

He paused, continuing more slowly, “What bothers me is not knowing why he wants her. Is he after her abilities in order to further some design of his own? And if so, why only two attempts in all these years? He can't mean to kill her or surely more attempts would have been made. Especially when she was undercover in Wind Country. I can't understand why he didn't move against her then. It would have been the perfect opportunity with Ryuji there to help,” he mused, then added offhandedly, “Soriya feels her uncle may be insane. It does plague the clan's genealogy.”

“Perhaps Akira Kanzin no longer had control of his puppet,” Tsunade surmised, brushing aside the insanity comment. “According to the mission reports Ryuji was excessively paranoid. Maybe he became uncooperative, and Kanzin no longer trusted him to apprehend Soriya. Ryuji did not seem to be aware of her identity, even after the Prince died.” The Hokage shook her head in exasperation. “Too much speculation. And irrelevant, in any case. We cannot allow Soriya to fall into anyone's hands, of course. The sooner we deal with this rogue psych-nin, if he truly is behind this, the better.”

Kakashi said nothing. After a moment, he spoke tentatively, “I'm not certain how Soriya really feels about this. She's angry at Kanzin, I know. A blind man could sense her rage. But there is also confusion. I don't know if she will simply stand by while he is killed.

“She wants...no...needs to know the truth. She blames herself for the tragedies in her past. If only he could tell her why...” He lifted a hand as though weighing the odds. “Maybe learning what really happened will help her heal.

“In any case, I don't want to have to fight her in order to take him out. At least, not until she finds out what she needs to know,” he added, conceding the possibility it might come to that.

Tsunade chewed her lip, scrutinizing the masked shinobi carefully. Finally, she waved a hand in acquiescence.

“Fair enough. Do not terminate Kanzin on sight. Allow Soriya to make contact with him. I'd like to know the reasons behind his actions myself. Use your judgment. But,” the Hokage cautioned sternly, “do not let him harm her or take her from us. I don't want to have to send the RU after her again. Or ANBU. You understand.” She fixed the Copy Ninja with a steady gaze. He returned it evenly.

“So. What does Soriya intend to do next?” she asked.

“We're headed to Tiger Falls to test her theory regarding Kanzin's water jutsu.” He rolled his visible eye. “I believe this entails flinging herself over the falls and seeing if she comes out alive.”

Tsunade let out a short laugh. “Keeping you on your toes is she? Good. You need a new challenge. Your chunin are maturing rapidly. Soon they'll be jonin and on to other things.” She stood. Kakashi smoothly rose to his feet as well.

“Was there anything else?” the Hokage asked.

“I'd like you to withdraw the ANBU team covering Soriya. It's an unnecessary waste of manpower at this juncture. Though continuing the surveillance on the Itasukis might be wise, at least until we've dealt with Kanzin. Pulling Soriya's team may even draw him out of hiding,” Kakashi ventured.

Tsunade appeared to think it over. Smiling slyly, she assented. “We don't want you overusing that Hidden Mist jutsu, now do we?” She laughed as he colored, caught out. “Consider it done. Now get out of here. I'm dying to get back to these reports, can't you tell?” She made a face. “Use the window,” she directed. As an afterthought, she added, “Have you spoken with Ibiki Morino yet?”

“I'm headed there now,” he acknowledged, stiffening slightly.

“He may remember something useful about Akira Kanzin. I never knew the man, but Ibiki was new with Interrogation back then, so he may have some insight.” Shrewd eyes marked the barely discernible tensing of the jonin's shoulders. Divining something of his feelings toward the head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit, Tsunade cautioned, “Tread carefully with Ibiki, Kakashi. I know you are angry with him. And with me.”

The Copy Ninja halted before the open window, but did not reply. After a moment, the Hokage sighed heavily. “I don't disagree that your anger is justified. We saw the same shadows in her that you did. The rage and grief she carried, along with the guilt she bears simply for being born with such a gift. We used her, taking advantage of her obsessive drive for the benefit of the village.” She paused as the shinobi turned, narrowly observing her weary expression.

“We did what we judged necessary, based on the information available to us at the time. Soriya understands this well. Better than most shinobi. I told you before: I admire her greatly. She is practical, as am I. She does what is required, putting emotions aside. As do I.

“If it makes you feel more generous toward Ibiki, I'll tell you he came to me twice during Soriya's training, attempting to persuade me to reconsider taking on the mission.”

Kakashi's brow rose in surprise. Her revelation startled him into speaking. “Why would he do that?”

Tsunade shrugged. “Perhaps for the same reason you walked away years ago.” He flinched as the barb struck. She took no pleasure in it. Yes, Kakashi. We are, none of us, guiltless here. As you well know.

“Perhaps Ibiki sensed she was embarking on a course of self-destruction and he knew he was enabling it. I don't know. He asked twice; I refused him. Perhaps you can ask him when you see him.” Her tone indicated the interview was at an end.

Kakashi stood motionless for a moment, left hand clenched against his thigh out of the Hokage's line of sight. She had already turned her attention back to one of the many reports cluttering her desk. Without a word, the masked shinobi stepped up to the windowsill, leaping out of sight to the trees below.

The current head of Leaf Village's Torture and Interrogation Unit surveyed the division's private training ground from the large window of his office. Several teams ran drills below; none required his personal attention. Slowly, a tendril of steam rose from the shinobi's mug of black tea, curling around his scarred face. He brought the hot beverage to his lips, tasting it. The corners of his mouth moved slightly, merely hinting at a smile of appreciation.

Staring out the window, Ibiki Morino pondered the latest mission directive from the Hokage. His Unit was being pressed into service as additional security for the upcoming summit. He hoped they'd be ready in time. Guard duty was not the particular forte of his people--at least, not over crowds of diplomats--but he supposed they all had to do what was needful. The Hokage could not allow any mishaps at the meeting of the continent's most important civilian and shinobi leaders. Any breach of security that allowed harm to befall a visiting dignitary would severely damage Leaf's reputation, possibly even igniting another covert ninja war. To say that not all the attending groups were on amicable terms was the height of understatement. Morino's mission was to help ensure no inflammatory events occurred.

He considered the benefits of changing the squad rotations from twelve hour to eight hour shifts. It would keep his people fresher, though they would be stretched a bit thinly. He decided to consult with the Hokage and the other commanders before making the adjustment. Carefully, he set the mug of tea down on the desk beside him. Then, whirling quickly toward the open door, he launched a kunai from the hidden sheath strapped to his left forearm. Spinning end over end, it thunked solidly into the wooden frame, mere inches from the head of the silver-haired shinobi standing just inside his office.

Kakashi paused in the doorway, hands stuffed casually in his pockets. Coolly, his eye flicked from the knife embedded in the wood beside his head to the scarred man who waited impassively, arms crossed over his chest.

“You missed,” the Copy Ninja observed dryly.

“Huh,” the gray-clad shinobi grunted. “If I'd wanted to hit you, there'd be blood in my office right now. I'm far too busy to waste time having the floor cleaned.” He added, “Consider it my first and only warning. My subordinates learn quickly not to approach me unannounced. I don't always react well to people sneaking up behind me.”

Kakashi held the older man's sharp gaze for several seconds, then closed his eye, slowly drawing a breath in through his nose. After a moment, he let it out.

“I apologize. I am not here to antagonize you or take up too much of your time. I simply need to ask you some questions regarding Akira Kanzin, Soriya's uncle. You knew him, I believe?”

Ibiki Morino stared at the Copy Ninja. Eventually, he nodded. “Tsunade told me you'd be dropping by. Frankly, I expected you before now.”

Hearing the mild rebuke in the words, Kakashi shrugged. “I've been busy.” He did not move to sit, merely stood in the center of the room waiting calmly.

The corner of Morino's mouth quirked.

So, that's how it will be. You don't like me, but you'll work with me for Soriya's sake. Good.

Aloud, the older ninja responded, “I did indeed know Soriya's uncle. That was twenty-five years ago, however. I'd recently been reassigned to this unit from ANBU.” He did not add that the transfer occurred as a direct result of injuries he sustained after being captured and tortured during a mission. His story was well-known within the village, as well-known as the black cap and gloves he wore to hide the worst of the damage. They did nothing to conceal the scars on his face.

“I worked with Kanzin only briefly; he died soon after I joined the unit. Though I knew him from before,” Morino paused, then added grudgingly, “during the period of recovery from my injuries. You are, of course, aware that a psych consult is standard procedure before severely injured shinobi are allowed to return to duty.” He waited for Kakashi's nod of acknowledgment, then elaborated.

“Kanzin met with me three times, as I recall. Nothing unusual occurred during the sessions.” He met the Copy Ninja's gaze squarely. “I will not speak of them further. Do not ask.

“I will, however, speak of Akira Kanzin's connection to one Haruma Anji. Better known as Yukio Ryuji--as you undoubtedly know, since you've spoken with the Hokage. Anji was the man responsible for kidnapping Soriya's uncle, ultimately resulting in his death.”

“Perhaps,” Kakashi allowed, voice skeptical, “though recent events cast doubt on the veracity of that particular scenario.”

The scarred shinobi's eyes narrowed. “Interesting,” he commented, bringing a black-gloved hand to his chin. His brow furrowed in thought. After a moment, he ventured, “Soriya believes her uncle is still alive then?”

The Copy Ninja shrugged. “It's a possibility, though we have no proof as yet. Something she glimpsed in Ryuji's mind aroused the suspicion. You knew Kanzin. What was he like?”

Morino turned toward the window, revealing his profile. He did not turn his back on the elite jonin entirely; he had not risen to his current position by being foolhardy. Though he doubted the man would attack him. It was not his style. Kakashi was known for the control he exhibited, as well as for possessing an inordinate amount of good sense.

Just what Soriya needs.

Aloud, he mused, “I'm not sure the few recollections I have will be of use, but I remember Dr. Kanzin as a quiet, yet compelling person. He seemed genuinely concerned for his patients and was a careful listener. I would venture to say that he was also driven—wanting to save the world, you know. Most doctors do, at one time or another, I suppose. At twenty-seven he was already the head of Psych—an impressive feat in itself, and well deserved, by all accounts. Dr. Kanzin was reputed to routinely tackle the most difficult, recalcitrant cases, yet had a surprising rate of success in treating those patients. He was highly respected by his peers and the staff.”

Kakashi heard the slight hesitation in Morino's voice. “But?” he prodded.

The older jonin shook his head. Fixing the Copy Ninja with a steady gaze, he cautioned, “Understand that this is merely an impression I formed based on a chance encounter with Dr. Kanzin during Anji's internment at Psych. I didn't think much on it at the time, and later, after he died, not at all. Only now, with the possibility he is alive being put forth, does it come to my mind. Whether it is significant or not, I can't say.”

The masked shinobi nodded as Morino continued, “I was assigned to a guard rotation at Psych while Anji was being, ah, studied.” The corner of his lip quirked slightly. “I had just returned from checking the video monitors when I encountered Dr. Kanzin leaving Anji's cell. Normally there would be nothing unusual in this. But it was very late, about 3 o'clock in the morning, as I recall. And the doctor seemed startled when I approached him, almost nervous. He explained he had to administer a late dose of medication for testing to be done later that morning. I checked the prisoner after he left, but all seemed in order. Nothing untoward occurred over the next several days, but two weeks later Anji and Dr. Kanzin had disappeared.”

“How did it happen?”

“According to cameras stationed at the entrance, they just strolled out the front door. In broad daylight. Anji was wearing scrubs and a lab coat. It looked as though he had some sort of concealed weapon on Dr. Kanzin. We couldn't be sure from the angle. Now, I wonder...” his voice trailed off as he replayed the events in his mind.

“In any case, they left the immediate vicinity quickly. It was almost an hour before they were missed. An ANBU squad picked up their tracks on the outskirts of the village heading west. Assuming Anji was trying to make it back to Wind Country, we pursued, though they had a fair head start.

“At one point, we lost all trace of them. We thought Anji must have used some type of obfuscation jutsu.” Morino paused, considering. “I wonder now if that wasn't Dr. Kanzin's doing. Anji had not shown such an ability previously. It took a few hours for ANBU to locate them again. It was almost as if they were able to cloak their presence—much like Soriya is able to suppress her chakra, in fact. By the time we tracked them down, they'd reached the banks of the Ganji River, near the border of Fire and Wind.”

Kakashi interrupted, “Doesn't that seem odd to you? Presumably, Anji had eluded pursuit, either through his own skill or with Dr. Kanzin's help. Why would he then allow himself to be spotted, trapped against the river like that?”

Morino's mouth formed a grim line. “Of course, in retrospect, it does seem suspicious. Also, Anji could have killed Dr. Kanzin at any time. He could have traveled more quickly alone. Unless he needed help eluding his pursuers.”

“I think Kanzin wanted you to find them. He needed witnesses to his supposed 'death.' And if he could conceal his presence, it would explain why neither ANBU nor the RU could find the bodies.”

“Yes, that was frustrating. We never had a satisfactory explanation as to the lack of bodies,” Morino affirmed. “We explored the lake and river below the falls exhaustively, but turned up nothing. After a couple days of fruitless searching, the third Hokage called a halt to our efforts. It was decided that the bodies had probably become trapped in rocks at the bottom of the falls. No one thought it possible they could've survived the plunge. Ganji Falls measures two hundred and eight meters high.”

“Soriya thinks her uncle may have used a special water ninjutsu to slow the descent and cushion the fall.”

“Ah, yes... Soriya excels at water style jutsu herself. I suppose it's possible,” Morino agreed, shrugging. “Though, to control that volume of water, moving at speed, and from such a height, all while falling...” he trailed off. “Even now, it seems unlikely, although we know Anji somehow survived.”

“Soriya thinks she knows how they managed it. She plans to test her theory at Tiger Falls.”

The scarred shinobi snorted. He could imagine the sort of “test” she had in mind.

“I hope you weren't planning on letting her go alone. She is prone to taking unnecessary risks, despite my repeated attempts to break her of the habit. I imagine her teammates' deaths have only made her more reckless. Perhaps you can persuade her to be more cautious of her safety. Dead shinobi are of no use to anyone.” The eyes that pierced the Copy Ninja were deadly serious. “Do not fail her.” Though unspoken, the word “again” lingered clearly in the air between them.

Kakashi stiffened, silver brow dipping in anger. “You presume overmuch,” he warned quietly.

“Do I?”

The Copy Ninja's jaw tightened. He forced himself to speak calmly, not wanting to overreact to the older shinobi's words. Soriya trusted this man. She needed all the friends she could get. Kakashi did not wish to alienate him, but he wanted to make his position crystal clear.

“I willingly admit I failed her years ago. I should have stayed involved; instead, I withdrew.” He paused a moment, then threw the verbal knife. “But I will not accept all the blame. I was not the hand that forged this weapon, flaws and all,” he said pointedly. “You saw what was happening. I know you tried to get Tsunade to abort the mission. So do not think to chastise me for my failure when your own is just as glaring, if not more so.” Though he struggled for composure, Kakashi's voice rose in volume as his visible eye glared at the grim-faced man across the room.

Morino stared impassively at the silver-haired shinobi. “Huh. Fair enough,” he allowed finally. You'll do just fine.

The moment stretched between them until a knock sounded on the office door. A familiar feminine voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Ibiki-sensei? Sorry to bother you, but I--”

Soriya halted on the threshold, mouth agape. The palpable tension in the room assaulted her senses. Gray eyes flicked from the kunai embedded in the door frame to Kakashi, then on to her mentor. His habitually grim visage told her nothing, though she thought his posture seemed more rigid than usual. The kunoichi advanced warily into the room. She skirted the Copy Ninja's right side, trying to read the expression in his dark eye. Though he maintained a calm, relaxed stance, the telepath could feel anger simmering just below the surface.

“Kakashi. Ibiki-sensei. Just what is going on here?”

When neither man answered, Soriya glanced at Kakashi's uncovered forearm, debating the wisdom of forcibly extracting some answers. Quickly, she squelched the notion, but he must have guessed the direction of her thoughts. Shaking himself slightly, the Copy Ninja swallowed back his resentment, brow smoothing as he focused on the waiting redhead.

“Soriya. I came to ask Morino-san some questions about your uncle.” His voice was bland, revealing none of the tension she had sensed earlier.

She looked askance at him, narrowed eyes darting to Morino suspiciously, “That's not what had you looking daggers at each other. And throwing them, apparently.” She frowned accusingly at her former teacher. “You were talking about me, weren't you?”

When the older shinobi did not deign to reply, Soriya's brows drew together in a frown. Her eyes glinting dangerously and she opened her mouth to vent her annoyance at them both.

Forestalling her, Morino cut in coldly, “What Kakashi and I were discussing when you unceremoniously barged into my office is none of your business.”

Caught with her mouth open, the kunoichi shut it with an audible snap. Straightening to her full height, she issued a perfunctory bow. “I see.” Her voice evinced no emotion, eyes shading to a flat, steel gray. “Forgive me for disturbing you.” Woodenly, she turned for the door, opening it silently.

Both men started slightly as the crossbow strapped to her back came into view. Neither had realized she carried such a weapon, though both knew Emiko Hagane had. Clearly, something had changed. Ibiki wondered what the change portended.

Kakashi's brow had risen in surprise at Morino's verbal chastisement and the kunoichi's acceptance of it, despite the deadly look in her eyes. He spoke her name. She halted in the doorway, waiting. She did not look at him.

“Will you please wait outside for me? I won't be long.”

Exposing her profile, the kunoichi nodded assent through lowered lashes. Crossing over the threshold, she pulled the door shut behind her. It latched with an audible “click.”

The Copy Ninja glanced at the scarred shinobi.

“Was that really necessary?”

Morino shrugged. “She's persistent. I've always found the direct approach works best. Did you really want to explain what we were discussing?”

He moved to the large chair behind his desk. If he seemed to collapse rather than sit in it, neither man chose to notice. Contemplating the masked shinobi, Morino added shrewdly, “I have some leeway in speaking to her so. A benefit of working closely with her in a position of authority for many months. The habit of obedience, once ingrained, is difficult to break. She will accept such bluntness from me, where she would not from you, her lover,” he reasoned, making a calming motion with his hand as Kakashi frowned. “Don't get upset. Ultimately, your claim on her has the potential to sway her actions much more than mine.” He passed a hand over his face wearily.

“I'll tell you, as a peace offering, that Soriya is special to me. I have no children, nor am I likely to, in this life. The few students I train are as close as I choose to come to fatherhood. Of these few, Soriya has affected me the most deeply. Or perhaps I am just getting old.” He sighed.

“You are quite correct to accuse me of the more glaring failure. I honed the weapon she is today. I could see the rage and pain that drove her to succeed. She has been the most damaged of my 'children', no question.” Pride crept into his tone. “Despite that, she mastered every task I set her, no matter how difficult or brutal. The Hokage and I were constantly amazed by her increasing command over such powerful abilities. But I have seen enough of life and death to know that anger like hers doesn't just burn itself out. It requires a target, and failing that, I feared it would engulf her.” He shook his head.

“After Emiko died and we received the urgent message from Natsu, I was certain rage had finally led to her destruction. But once again, she surprised me.” He paused, searching the silver-haired shinobi's masked face.

“I can still sense the anger in her, but it has been muted. Blunted, if you will. And now she carries a crossbow. She never did, before. I'm not certain, but I believe this to be a good omen. Perhaps it is your doing. Perhaps not. In any case, I am...grateful...to see this small change in her.” He closed his eyes briefly.

“Be assured,” he cautioned, “the Hokage monitors the situation closely. Ever a gambler, she holds her hand, waiting to see what develops. But she is only willing to risk so much. Help Soriya resolve this situation quickly. Above all, do not let her anger and desire for revenge destroy her. I realize you work to prevent this already. Know you can call on me should the need arise. We seek the same outcome, you and I.” Face solemn, the older man settled back in his chair, watching the elite jonin carefully.

Kakashi's lidded gaze appraised Morino in return. Finally, offering the scarred shinobi a respectful nod, he asked the question he really wanted answered.

“What has Tsunade ordered you to do if I fail?”

Gravely, the head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit stared at the younger man. Finally, he said, “I would strongly advise you not to.”

With that dire pronouncement, he turned back toward the window, picking up his mug. As the Copy Ninja quietly let himself out, Ibiki brought the drink to his lips, tasting it.

The tea had grown cold.

Kakashi spotted the kunoichi under the shade of a mountain laurel just outside the compound's front gate. Strolling over, he let his eye rove down her scantily clad body. Today she wore knee-high black boots and a black miniskirt that was barely decent. The matching zippered top was form-fitting and left her toned midriff bare, though she donned a long-sleeved cropped jacket, also black, over it. He noticed she was wearing the choker he'd given her. A thrill of desire ran through him.

Mine.

The ponytailed redhead leaned idly against the tree, long legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankle. Her arms were folded tightly under her chest. Kakashi swallowed, remembering how it had felt to touch her. He loved that she was lushly curved, rather than willowy, like so many of the kunoichi. Almost absently, he noted the crossbow she carried was completely concealed at her back. Looking carefully, he detected the bolts hidden in the wide leather belt at her waist.

“See anything you like?” Soriya drawled, observing his perusal of her body with an arched brow.

“Mm. Many things, as a matter of fact.” He commented mildly, “I think your outfit is missing some pieces. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.”

She shrugged, the motion slightly hampered by the weapon harness. “I'm wearing my swim suit. We should be able to reach Tiger Falls a few hours before nightfall if we leave soon. I want to make some attempts before dark.” She shot him a calculating glance. “Bring a change of clothes. Once I get the jutsu down, I'll want to try it with a passenger, so to speak.”

“And I get to be the guinea pig, right?” He sighed dramatically. “Lucky me. All right. When do we leave?”

“Meet me at the main gate in thirty minutes' time?”

“Sounds good.” He paused. “Hey, what did you want to see Morino about anyway?”

Straightening from her slouch against the tree, Soriya sniffed, tossing her ponytail. “Nothing that can't wait until later. Let him wonder for awhile. Serves him right for taking that tone with me.”

The Copy Ninja grinned inwardly. She sounded just like a teenager defying her father. Reaching out, he tugged her ponytail playfully. “Be nice. He worries about you, you know. For some reason, he seems to think you're reckless. I can't imagine why.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Ha ha. Since when are you and he on such good terms, anyway? Didn't he just throw a kunai at you?”

Kakashi waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, that was my own fault for sneaking into his office unannounced.”

She stared at him in amazement. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “What can I say? I'm a ninja. Sneaking just comes naturally.”

She snorted. “And you think I'm reckless! Natsu learned the hard way not to test Ibiki-sensei. That's how he got the notch in his ear, as a matter of fact.” Cupping the shinobi's cloth-covered jaw in her hand, she turned his face, scrutinizing him carefully. “Huh. No blood. Ibiki-sensei must like you.”

“I'll consider myself fortunate,” he replied good-naturedly. “Now, I'd best get going if I'm to meet you in half an hour.”

“You better not be late,” she warned. “I know how you are, don't forget.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he winked at her, hands forming the seals of his translocation jutsu. A puff of smoke later, he was gone.

Soriya smirked at the spot where the Copy Ninja had been standing. “We'll just see, won't we?” Then she performed her own jutsu, vanishing from sight.