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Great Lakes & Expectations chp 29 (split last post)
🕑 Added 2020-01-02 12:51:06 +0000 UTCHe had a nice, early night, because he had a mission in the morning. He had been planning to phone it in because he didn’t care about it, but that was the attitude of the old, wrong Kakashi. This version woke up feeling the most cheerful and alert he had in weeks.
He gave his best grin to the gate guards on his way out. Kotetsu gave a gratifying shiver and looked, wide-eyed, for help. Kakashi sauntered out, and broke into a run once he was out of sight. He made it to the Fire Daimyo’s palace by sun-up, and had a nice cup of sencha while he waited for his client.
The Daimyo from the Land of Tea was stupidly early, which was the first sign that they were perhaps not destined to be. A messenger came running and Kakashi had to drop everything to meet the traveling party. The retinue from Tea were 3 bleary-eyed young men, in varying states of resignment. The least sleepy of the three was patiently listening to the Daimyo herself earnestly detail their travel plans, which included 2 stops that were not mentioned in the brief sent to Konoha.
Ah. Kakashi watched 4 more men walk up, carrying a palanquin. The retinue was 7, then.
“Ah, Konoha?” the Daimyo waved him over. Her dark eyes seemed sincere, but her smile was thin and a bit awkward. “Thank you for your promptness. We are just getting ready to head out.”
He bowed. “At your service. I overheard that we’ll be making some stops?”
“Yes,” she said, enthusiastic. She stood even straighter. “They’re on the way, I checked ahead.”
‘I have a really bad feeling about this.’
“What are we going to be doing?” Kakashi asked.
She looked absolutely delighted. “Oh, there are two really famous court doll collections that I want to see. That’s why we’re taking this route, I saw a different one on the way here, so this time I want to go just a little bit south.”
He could feel his eyes glazing over. “I see,” Kakashi said, in his politest tone. “I haven’t seen one in many years. I look forward to it.”
His father had not been disappointed, exactly, to have no daughters. It had not stopped him from impulse-buying a full doll collection of fat little white dogs in court paint and kimono. It was probably still in the house somewhere.
The 4 palanquin bearers set their burden down. 3 of them stood pertly at their station. The last one opened the door and unrolled a frivolous little rug. “Oh, this is going to be so nice.” The Daimyo picked up the edges of her traveling clothes, which were as practical as any he had ever seen nobility wear. She gave the courtyard one last friendly lookover before she stepped down into the transport. The door was slid shut, and then they were off.
It was a long walk, but it was surprisingly casual and friendly. The men carrying luggage were carrying on about someone who had recently gotten engaged. The Daimyo herself was clearly listening in, and occasionally interjected with details about the villagers in question and the apparent family drama. It was all very nice.
‘I hate this,’ Kakashi thought, wishing for a mask, silent teammates, and an objective that got his heart-rate up and sharpened his focus. He scanned the treeline continuously. He kept a sharp ear. He made clones that circled around the slow-moving group.
Absolutely nothing was wrong. No danger at all.
It was deeply unnerving.
“Daimyo-sama,” Kakashi tried, brow wrinkling. “Who was your escort to Fire Country?”
“Oh, nobody,” came the cheerful answer. “We came by ourselves. But Madoka-sama was quite insistent, he likes having security around and he’s so proud of you. Tea doesn’t have any shinobi, of course, not much happens that we can’t handle.”
...He tried to assimilate that into his worldview, failed, and rejected it entirely.
“But you’re very important,” he said. It wasn’t sucking up. It was a statement of fact. Her country was small, but it was well-connected and rich enough. “Surely you’re in some danger. Assassins, rivals, spies, ambitious family members looking for you to slip up and show weakness.”
Birdsong. The sound of their footsteps on the muddy stone path.
“No,” the Daimyo answered. She opened her window and peered up at him. She looked very concerned. “Nothing like that. Are you alright?”
‘That is very depressing. There goes plan 1, 2, and 4.’
He flashed her his most cheerful expression. “I’m doing well, thank you.”
She hmmed, tilted her head slightly, and then closed her eyes against the sunlight. “I see,” she said. She closed her window again. “Shinobi-san, so far I have not been assassinated. It doesn’t seem likely to happen soon. I do, however, have some ambitious family members.” Her voice brightened. “I have 4 nieces. They all seem very happy in their career choices. Bright young women. And my daughter is really artistic, I’m so proud of her.”
“Only ladies in your family?” Kakashi said, not interested in the slightest.
“Oh, I have a nephew too.” She paused. “He’s ...okay.”
Effusive praise for 5 children, and an awkward deflection about 1. That was notable.
He felt his mouth open, because now he actually did have curiosity. But he clamped it shut in time. It was better not to get too involved.
The first stop involved abandoning the palanquin at the foot of a steep hill, along with the 4 men who had been carrying it. They were apparently having a break while the venerable lady hitched up her trailing hems and earnestly hiking up a poorly maintained path.
She was, he noted, wearing hiking shoes underneath her silken kimono. They were brown, worn, and deeply ugly.
With the general air of preparedness that he was sensing from the Daimyo, Kakashi was not at all surprised to find out that the people they were about to see were already waiting for them. He did feel bemused to note that the owner of this marvelous collection was a tiny, trembling lady who had to be 11 billion years old. She was not any type of nobility, he surmised, because she lived in a one-room shack with ten racks outside full of onions drying on rope. She did have a son, who had been handy enough to build another shack behind her home. She slowly led them there to show off the collection in question.
There were 21 complete sets of court dolls, Kakashi noted. He made polite noises and looked at them. They were exactly like most sets he had ever seen- pale, round-faced porcelain dolls in kimono fabric, arranged in cascading rows on a paper backdrop. The top was the royal couple, and the lower rows were full of ladies in waiting, generals, and other court staples.
They stayed a very efficient 15 minutes. He was not surprised when the second detour was similar. The dolls were nearly identical, but the second old woman did not have nearly as many onions. He thought that was a mark against her.
He didn’t mind the detours, actually. The longer this mission dragged on, the better his chances of finding an opportunity became. With that in mind, his mood began to sink as they neared Tea Country. There was always tomorrow- there would be another depressing, petty B-rank mission slated for him. But it probably wouldn’t involve nobility of any kind, and being near politics and the wealthy significantly increased the chances of meeting one of the criteria he needed to escape his personal corner of hell.
“Daimyo-sama,” he ventured, feeling a little desperate. “There’s no trouble at all in your country? No unrest, no criminal element?”
“It’s all very friendly and pleasant.”
Fucking abominable.
“Nothing at all you can think of that would require you to, say, request another mission from Konoha,” he wheedled. “Because since I’ll already be in Tea, of course it might just be most convenient to add that mission as an amendment to my current mission.”
One of the palanquin bearers gave him a judgmental look.
“Ah…” Her voice was oddly muffled. He wondered what she was doing inside her palanquin. “Missions that shinobi can do…” She trailed off, contemplative.
“We can do all sorts of things,” he said. He felt like a walking advertisement. “We’re fast, quiet, strong-”
“Oh, fast,” she said, surprised. “That does bring something to mind, actually. I was thinking it would be nice to deliver informational pamphlets to city residents summarizing the discussions that I had yesterday. I’ve been writing up copies, actually, while I’m in here.”
‘This woman is very odd.’
“That sounds wonderful,” Kakashi said, smelling his chance. “I can deliver those for you. One to-” He faltered. “Every house in Tea’s capital city?”
That sounded so tedious.
‘B class mission,’ he thought darkly, cursing them all.
“Oh, that would be lovely,” the Tea Daimyo effused. “I’ll add it to your contract. It might take you some time to deliver, I worry that you won’t make it back to Konoha tonight. Are you quite sure?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Kakashi said, thinking about how many checkmarks this would make. A timeframe extension, contact with politically important personnel, and a revision to the contract. Yes. Yes, this was exactly what he needed.
OOOOO
“Hatake-san,” Rejina-san greeted. She looked a little less stressed than he remembered. “You’re two days later than we expected.”
“I ran into some complications,” Kakashi said sombrely. He put his mission scroll on her desk, along with a sealed envelope. He let his shoulder hang heavy. “This letter is from the Daimyo of Tea Country, relating to what occurred.”
She picked it up. Her big green eyes were full of concern. He was mildly insulted when she gave him a clear once-over for injuries. There were none, because he was a competent professional. “I see,” she said. “That’s why you came to the office instead of leaving this downstairs, I take it?”
“I thought it was best to be thorough,” Kakashi hedged. “Since the Daimyo asked me to extend the original mission and complete a new task, I believe it would be most appropriate to come here directly.”
She opened her mouth- and then froze. Her eyes narrowed.
There was a long silence, wherein Kakashi looked as innocent and guileless as he could possibly manage.
“Oh dear,” Rejina-san said, voice dry. She very obviously looked behind him into the main office for anyone else to deal with him. He did not have to look to know that they had all fled for mysterious reasons.
He waited.
“I see.” She seemed to be talking to herself. She let a long sigh. “I believe that such a drastic change to the mission requires an immediate debriefing.” Her tone was flat. “There could be important political implications.”
“Oh, I would hate to be a bother,” Kakashi lied blithely. “I don’t want to trouble the Hokage.”
“Of course not.” She managed to keep her voice bland, but her face wasn’t quite up to the task. Slight upturn on her lips, amusement in her eyes- Jiraiya’s daughter was willing to go along with it, as he’d thought. “It is protocol to get that debriefing done as soon as possible, in case the information might affect future decisions. I believe that the Hokage is using this hour to contemplate the nature of waterfowl.”
What?
“It’s unfortunate, but this could be urgent enough that we need to disturb him.” She stood, gathering up the materials that he had brought. She’d shut down any emotion in her eyes, but her mouth was still slightly curled. “Follow me, please,” his new favorite office worker said.
Kakashi had a bounce in his step that he concealed when the door to the forbidden chamber was opened.
“Wha- Ah, Rejina-hime,” the Sandaime greeted. “Has something- Oh.” His voice went flat when he saw Kakashi.
He beamed. He resisted the urge to wave.
“I’m sorry to disturb you. However, Hatake-san’s mission changed and the status needs to be increased from a B-rank,” she said. She actually did sound apologetic. Her body language wasn’t selling it, though. “According to the rules, he must debrief immediately with you. That’s correct, isn’t it?”
The Sandaime leveled Kakashi with a seriously unimpressed look. “It is correct.”
Mission success. He had contrived to wiggle his way into the Hokage’s office.
Rejina bowed, very politely and deeply. She took a step backwards toward the door.
“Oh, no,” Hiruzen said. “You should stay. Your input could be invaluable.” His tone was very dry, but the message was clear enough to Kakashi.
She froze for just a moment before recovering. Her poker face was admirable when she murmured, “Of course,” and primly seated herself on a divan that appeared to be her particular spot. She picked up a notebook and golden pen from the side table next door.
“Very well.” The Sandaime quietly shut a drawer in his desk, though he had hidden whatever he’d been doing before they entered the room. “Jounin Hatake, debrief.”
He bowed. “Of course,” Kakashi said. “But first- I’d like to argue my case for reinstatement to the ANBU black ops unit. I believe my mission today and all the B class missions I have been doing lately support my case.”
The Sandaime very quietly said, “Oh, Kami.”
Kakashi whipped the storage seal out of his pants pocket and pulled out an easel and his posterboards with a flourish. He set them in place and then caught the informational pamphlets just before they hit the ceiling. He gave one to Rejina with a bow. She took it with both hands and a dubious expression. The other, he limply dropped into the Hokage’s waiting palm.
“I’ve prepared some materials to help convey my point.” He fixed his eyes on the Hokage and hoped he looked exactly as manic as he wanted. He stretched his mouth into a grin that he knew would be reflected into his one visible eye. “I’ve had a lot of time to work on it, since it’s been so difficult to schedule a meeting, and also because I have no meaningful work.”
“Thank you.” The Sandaime was resigned.
He darted to look at his other observer. She seemed to be doubting his rhetorical strategy. That was skepticism on her face, for sure.
“I should be reinstated into ANBU for two reasons,” he began. “Firstly, I had an exemplary career in ANBU and my skills are still valuable there. Secondly, my skills and personality are not suited to the general mission pool, as evidenced by my poor reviews and other indicators.”
Rejina cocked her head to the side.
‘She looks like she’s rooting for me. Pretty sure.’
“In ANBU, I had an unusually high mission success rate, and above-average mission completeness rate. Please review the chart on page 2, comparing my performance to that of the average ANBU operative.” He waited a moment as pages flipped and two people looked at his beautiful graphics with varying levels of willingness. “On page 3, you’ll see my overall statistics. I’d like to draw your attention in particular to my performance as an ANBU captain. In my 7 year tenure as a captain, I completed 98% of my missions without fatalities, and 70% without any injuries. Less than 30% of my missions were considered extended, incomplete, or otherwise imperfect.”
The Sandaime was squinting. After a moment, he unfolded his reading glasses and put them on. He held the pamphlet nearly up to his face.
Yessssss.
“If you’ll look at page 4 and 5, you’ll see that over time, my rate of perfect missions has been increasing,” Kakashi said, which was a thing he had not known until Rejina had criticized his graphics and sent him to organize the facts better. “This indicates that I have not yet met my potential as an ANBU operative and I would serve the village in that context.”
“Persuasive,” the Sandaime said. His tone was hard to read. “And as for your second point- you say that you feel you are not integrating well into the general mission pool?”
He beamed, glad he was finally getting his audience. “Something like that. I’ve had a frankly shocking number of complaints about my conduct from clients since being dropped to general missions.”
“Transferred, not dropped.”
“I looked it up, and the average jounin receives 2 or less complaints per fiscal year.” He squirmed a bit. “In the last 3 months, I’ve had 47 complaints.”
The damning thing was that he had not been purposefully sabotaging his missions. He was, apparently, just fundamentally unlikable.
“Oh, dear,” Hiruzen said. He did sound a bit amused. “That is certainly above average.”
“Yes, well.” He coughed. “I’ve also had 9% of my recent missions conclude in an unsatisfactory way, such as exceeding the projected timeline or budget.”
“That’s not good,” Hiruzen agreed genially. He leaned back in his chair.
...Something about this was less than ideal, but he wasn’t sure what.
He fought on, keeping his professional, cheerful tone steady. “In conclusion, my talents are very suited to ANBU work, and my personality defects are much more of a problem outside of ANBU. Therefore, I should be transferred back immediately. Thank you very much.” He bowed.
Rejina clapped.
“Thank you, that was enlightening.” The Hokage coughed. “Fascinating. Well- done.”
He tried not to fidget as he waited for the Hokage’s judgment.
The Hokage blinked at him.
Kakashi managed a wavering smile.
“Well, then?” Hiruzen waved at him. “Your mission debriefing.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “That. Very important. I was escorting the Daimyo of Tea from Fire Country. It was a perilous journey with a lot of looking at antiques, and when we reached Tea Country, the Daimyo asked me to take on another mission.” He shrugged. “Although she is not Fire Country nobility, I did not feel that I could reject a reasonable request from such a highly-placed person. Due to the high stakes of this type of mission alteration for Konoha’s reputation, I believe that B classification was no longer appropriate. Due to this second request, I was unable to return to Konoha within the allowed timeframe of the original mission, and technically could be said to have failed it.”
“Oh, my,” Hiruzen said mildly. He took his pipe out of the top drawer of his desk. “This sounds serious. What type of mission did the Tea Daimyo have you undertake?”
He mastered his desire to squirm. “She needed shinobi haste in order to disseminate information among her populace.”
Hiruzen nodded very seriously. “That sounds important indeed. Was it about the antiques?”
“...Partly,” Kakashi said. His shoulders were crawling up towards his ears. “But other parts of the missive were political in nature.”
“Oh. So you were delivering classified information?”
“...It was aimed at the general populace of Tea Country.”
The Sandaime nodded seriously. He was enjoying this. “Ah, so like a newspaper. Your secondary mission was delivering newspapers?”
To hell with it.
“More like a community bulletin.”
Rejina made a sound.
He looked at her sharply. He could not tell what she was thinking. Her back was perfectly straight, her eyes glittering with amusement, her hands folded in her lap. She had decided not to take notes, then, for some reason.
“Understood. Is that all, then?”
Resentfully, Kakashi nodded. “I believe so, yes.”
“Wonderful.” He tapped the end of his pipe, as if trying to settle tobacco. “Rejina-hime, please retrieve the materials I asked you to prepare about the topic of Hatake-san and ANBU service.”
What.
She shot him a guilty look as she stood to bow and hastened out of the office.
“While she does that, I’d like to assure you that I don’t believe there will be any negative repercussions as a result of your mission in Tea,” the Sandaime said. He lifted a piece of paper. “In fact, I have here a letter from the Daimyo in which she refers to you as-” he glanced at it- “a very nice and earnest young man.”
He scowled. “She’s very fast,” he said grudgingly.
“It arrived before you did,” Sandaime said helpfully. “Yesterday, in fact.”
“An admirable woman,” he managed through gritted teeth. “So organized.”
“You’re not doing too badly yourself.” The Sandaime indicated his presentation. “You’ve learned much more engaging presentation skills since you were taken out of ANBU. I’m quite pleased by how your organizational skills have improved, so quickly.”
He glowered.
When Rejina-hime came back in, she used his easel to hold her posterboard.
‘She could have asked.’
...Was that why she had told him to buy an easel? She didn’t have one of her own? Or did she just not want to carry it?
‘I have a sinking feeling that she might have manipulated me. This is going to damage our friendship for sure.’
She cleared her throat and gave him a nervous glance. She covered that with a professional smile. “Thank you for that lovely presentation. I’d like to respond to a couple of points.”
That was when she stepped forward to hand him a booklet. He took it numbly. The Sandaime took his solemnly.
“In order to adequately determine a path forward, it is necessary to provide you with the Hokage’s reasonings and other variables that you may not have been able to consider. If you would both open your booklets to the first page…”
He flipped it open and lifted it halfway to his face to peer at it. It had supplementary information for the main presentation on the posterboard.
“The argument of the Hokage is this.” She pointed to her first visual. “First- that you have exceeded the average guidelines for ANBU participation by a significant amount.”
“Please look at the graph on the next page, if you would. Here you can see that the average shinobi is in ANBU for a limit of five years before retiring or taking several years of break. This has been the case since its creation more than sixty years ago. If you look at the next graph, you can see the large increase in mission fatalities after six years of uninterrupted service in ANBU. The numbers continue to rise, until about 8 years.”
She looked in his general direction, but didn’t make eye contact. “Most shinobi do not survive past eight years of uninterrupted ANBU service, due to the significant strain and constant on-call nature of the job.”
‘And I’ve had 9 years of uninterrupted service, meaning I am statistically due some tragedy. But… I think my time in ANBU was the least tragic and stressful of my career to date.’
“What of those that do?” The Hokage asked, steepling his fingers. He seemed to know damn well what the answer was.
Rejina couldn’t even look at him now. “Early deaths due to substance abuse, utter inability to reintegrate into society, and intentional suicide.”
He pursed his lips. Some of that was familiar.
“If we look at your current numbers of complaints and mission completion times, Hatake-san, it lines up with what we do know of shinobi that spend an excessive amount of time in the ANBU corps. It shows a decrease in ability to interact with others outside of an ANBU setting, which is potentially devastating for anyone’s mental health and social interactions.”
‘Oh, damn. So I was supporting their argument.’
“Other signs could include inappropriate escalation of social interactions to violence, or fight or flight responses to average interactions or situations. Our findings showed that those who stayed in ANBU for so long no longer feel safe in their own homes and village, leading them to pursue combat-appropriate actions in a non-combat environment.”
..He thought about the fact that he had nearly attacked his door when it had a note on it. He tried to recall other incidents, but it was hard to forget that he had considered throwing a knife at the civilian woman who was talking now.
‘Oh, no. What if they’re slightly correct?’
He narrowed his eye at her, not liking this self reflection one bit. She looked up. She looked unnerved.
Rejina hastily changed out the posterboard.
“We have found that those ANBU who took at least a year or several off before returning to ANBU assignment have much lower rates of fatalities than their cohorts, as well as healthier mental and emotional responses at home. Thus, while your particular assignment on ANBU has been much longer than should have been allowed, it is… possible, that after a few years of recovery and reintegration into the village and general shinobi population, that you would be able to pursue more ANBU work, given approval.”
“As it stands now, statistically,” she stressed, “you may present danger to yourself and others in Konoha without adjustment. The ANBU program does not emphasize the social or mental needs that are required for a person to remain functional and healthy.” Then she nodded at him. “As to the matter of your skills improvement, which is undeniable-”
He nodded tensely. He wanted this to be over with.
She seemed to relax, just a bit. “Your reports also show that your improvement has been stagnant for the better part of five years. Your scores are very impressive, but it seems unlikely that you have already reached your full potential. Focusing on training could be the break that is required, while improving your abilities and potential for ANBU work.”
She pointed to the relevant numbers and their drop-off points. He followed the movement, not appreciating the educational opportunity at all.
“Therefore, it would be the official recommendation of the Hokage Tower that you take the next few years to attempt to reintegrate into shinobi forces, focusing on training and rebuilding those social connections. You would need to repair your mental and physical health to a level necessary to resume any ANBU work, if that is indeed your goal. Working B-class missions allows you to maintain income and activity, while providing you time for the recovery necessary from a career of high-stress missions. This would provide you the best opportunity to serve Konoha without the unnecessary extra risks to your well-being and long term health.”
“Sounds great,” he said, feeling a black hole open up. Ah, this was no good. “Can I at least have A ranks back?”
“Of course,” Sandaime said, as if he hadn’t been barring that for months now. He blinked slowly. He looked utterly at ease. “As part of a team, of course. Who would you like to work with?”
Oh no, it had been another trap.
“I don’t care,” he said mutinously.
Some people were a lot less awful than others. But if he requested someone, then he’d be stuck with them forever, and they’d think he wanted to work together or something.
“We can make it work.” It sounded like a threat, somehow, despite the smile the Sandaime wore.
“That’s great,” Kakashi said, hating his life and everyone he knew. He took a moment to look at Jiraiya’s daughter, who was not nearly as fun as he had hoped and was therefore being demoted down his list of favorite office workers. “Wonderful.”
Comments
Omirao
GOOD JOB Regina!!
