The Trick Is Not Minding

Chapter Fifteen

Kuroshin Aoshi had a goal. He was going to pay Kakashi back for all the trouble he’d caused. He’d almost decided it wasn’t going to happen, fearing that the copy-nin would merely defeat him once again, so he was pleasantly surprised when his dependable, meek bitch showed up to ‘interrogate’ him. What a laugh, Aoshi thought, he’ll have to grow a pair if he wants to stand up against me. What’s wrong with me, he sneered, I swear I don’t know why they say he’s a genius. Obviously nothing’s wrong, he’s the perfect bitch . . . the only thing wrong is the fact that he wants to change his status.

The former ANBU relaxed and waited. Soon the guard came to take him back to his cell. Remembering his reactions from earlier Aoshi goaded him, going on about how he’d driven the mighty Hatake Kakashi to tears, just like a little girl. The guard bristled at the insult to someone so respected and swung at him. It was all the opening Aoshi needed. He quickly throttled the guard, unlocked his cuffs and placed the body in his cell. Then he strolled boldly out the front gate, quickly melting into the hustle and bustle of the village, headed for Kakashi’s apartment.

He masked his chakra and leapt to the window ledge, peering inside to see the copy-nin sprawled on the sofa, facing away from the window, deep in thought. He quietly slid open the window and stepped inside, startling the jounin from his thoughts. “Hello pet, I came to refresh your obedience training, it seems you’ve forgotten your place.”

Kakashi went rigid at the sound of that voice. He tried to conjure up the rage and power he’d felt when finally fought back, but all he managed was resignation. There wasn’t anything to fight for now. He didn’t protest when a strong hand fisted in his hair and dragged him off the couch, banging his head hard against the coffee table. “Let’s try something different, shall we?” the mocking voice asked as the copy-nin was dragged into the bathroom, his hands secured to the showerhead above and behind him.

Aoshi made quick work of cutting away the jounin’s clothes. Then he brought the knife to the copy-nin’s chest. “I think you need a reminder of just what you are.” he went on. Then he quickly began to carve said reminder into Kakashi’s flesh. “Willful bitch, disobedient slut, uppity whore.” the madman chanted as he carved, then stood, whistling, and disappeared, returning moments later with a cannister.

Salt, the copy-nin thought flatly, this is going to hurt. An understatement if there ever was one, he corrected himself wryly as his back bowed from the force of the scream wrenched from his lungs. Just when he began to catch his breath the water was turned on, the steaming torrents rinsing the salt from the wounds, causing a fresh wave of agony. Then the process was repeated. And again. And again. Kakashi’s vision greyed and his stomach surged but he did not lose consciousness.

His mind whirled, trying to make sense of the words he could only distantly perceive, as Aoshi railed on about his flaws, only truly comprehending when he heard “. . . take that bitch of Ibiki’s, I can’t wait to see how that luscious caramel skin looks under the lash.”

‘Ruka . . . he’s talking bout ‘ruka, was all the jounin could manage, oh shit, my fault, all my fault. And with that he bowed his head and acquiesced to his fate.

Iruka had had a lousy day. The children seemed to have some sort of radar that let them know when he was particularly distracted, and they used it to full advantage today. By lunchtime he was massaging the bridge of his nose, trying to will away his growing headache . . .but, to no avail. By the time school dismissed for the day it was all he could do to drag himself out of his chair and begin slogging toward home.

Not that there’s anything to go home to . . .not anymore, he mourned, and he wondered for the hundredth time that day how the copy-nin was doing. Maybe I should stop by and see, just to be friendly, make sure he’s all right with being there after everything that happened. The teacher continued his mental pep-talk, trying to convince himself that a visit would be welcome. Besides, he continued, he can always tell me to leave if that’s what he wants. Actions justified, Iruka turned towards Kakashi’s with a new spring in his step.

In just a few minutes he was at the copy-nin’s door. He raised his hand and was just about to knock when he heard a strange noise. He pressed his ear to the door, not wanting to interrupt something and possibly anger the man he was trying to woo back. He held his breath and listened intently, when he was rocked by a piercing scream. He reacted immediately, kicking in the door and rushing inside, trying to locate the source of the sound. He heard water running and headed for the bathroom. He threw open the door on a sight he wished he had never seen. Hanging from the shower head was his beloved, his head lolling limply on his blood and salt encrusted chest. And right there, in front of him, was the source of all his problems . . .Kuroshin Aoshi.

Iruka was a gentle soul by nature. He was, in fact, very well suited to teaching and very poorly suited for the general business of being a ninja. At this moment, however, you would never have guessed that. In fact, you would have thought him a slightly blood thirsty refugee from the front lines. He had caught the larger man by surprise and turned it to his advantage, fiercely slamming his head into the porcelain tiles until they were left broken and blood smeared. He dropped the taller man onto the floor and replaced his hands with his feet, kicking his head like a soccer ball until it was obvious he would never rise again.

He very gently supported the limp copy-nin, relieving the weight on his abused wrists so he could release him. Then he tenderly lifted him to his chest and formed the hand signs to transport them.

Ibiki looked up in shock as Iruka appeared in his office, an unconscious and bleeding copy-nin in his arms. The chuunin dropped to his knees, still cradling his burden, and burst into tears. “I can’t find a pulse,” he stammered, “and there’s so much blood.” The interrogator quickly took charge, summoning a medic and taking the jounin from his arms, laying him out flat on the floor, beginning CPR until help arrived. Moments later the medic raced through the door. He immediately began feeding Kakashi healing chakra, struggling to stabilize him and repair the damage.

“What happened.” Ibiki demanded, but he received no response. He grabbed the teacher’s shoulder and spun him around, once again demanding answers.

“I went to check on him . . .when I got to his door I heard a scream, I broke in, and . . . “ at this Iruka dissolved into a fresh wave of tears. After a moment he composed himself and continued. “Aoshi had him strung up in the shower . . . I killed him, you know . . . split his head like a grape . . .” the chuunin let out a bark of crazed laughter, “showed him who’s a bitch.”

Ibiki sent some ANBU to fetch the body just as the medic stepped back from Kakashi. “Is he going to be okay?” Iruka whispered, “Please tell me he’s going to be okay.”

“He should recover fully, but he needs to rest for the next couple of days. Nothing overly strenuous. He was very lucky.” The medic finished, “You can take him home now.” That was the best news the chuunin had had all day.

“Come on ‘kashi-love, lets get you home.” he whispered, and he lifted the jounin in his arms and transported them to his house. He tucked his sleeping charge tenderly into bed before changing and joining him. He gathered the copy-nin in his arms, gently cradling him. “Don’t worry, I’ll watch over you . . . we’ll talk tomorrow.” His world right once again, Iruka slept.