Matchmaker, Matchmaker

Part Three - All Things Must Pass

Chapter One

Kakashi must have forgotten his key . . . again, Ibiki thought as he went to open the door. His husband had been off on a mission for the last week and was overdue to return. He was shocked to open the door only to find the Hokage on the other side.

“Good evening Hokage-sama, how may I serve you?” he inquired politely as he stepped aside to let her enter.

Troubled brown eyes met his and a shiver ran down his spine. “Morino Ibiki,” Tsunade began formally, “I regret to inform you that Hatake Kakashi fell in the line of duty. His teammates were unable to transport his body so it was destroyed in the field. Here are his personal effects.” she continued as she handed him Kakashi’s chakra blade, the most recent volume of Icha Icha, his dog tags and a slim silver band.

The interrogator’s massive fist closed around the ring hard enough that she could hear the bones creak, but his face remained impassive as she continued, “I am sorry for your loss.” the Hokage concluded, watching the bland expression for signs of distress.

“Thank you Tsunade-sama.” Ibiki said softly, “I appreciate you taking the time to tell me this yourself.”

“The memorial will be tomorrow.” she said softly, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I would like to be returned to field duty.” he rumbled, “As soon as possible.”

“I’m afraid I need your services here.” she replied, “I can’t afford to lose you too. I’m sorry Ibiki.” she whispered before turning and disappearing into the night, leaving him with his grief.

He couldn’t think, it was too hot, there wasn’t any air. Ibiki loosened his collar and threw open the nearest window, leaning out to breathe deeply of the cool night breeze. It must be a mistake, he can’t be gone, he tried to convince himself . . . to no avail. He stumbled into the bedroom he’d shared with his husband and dropped onto the bed, maybe if he went to sleep he’d wake up and find this was all a bad dream.

The morning dawned overcast and grey, much like Ibiki’s mood. He dressed in his usual uniform and headed to the tower, planning on throwing himself into his work.
“Good morning boss.” his aide said, not having heard the news, “What’s on the schedule for today?”

“I need to take care of anything urgent early.” the interrogator replied tonelessly, “I’ll be out this afternoon.”

“That’s right, it’s your anniversary.” his aide exclaimed in delight, “I take it Hatake’s back. Do you have something special planned?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Ibiki replied monotonously, “Could we please get to work?” He picked up the first report on his desk and began listlessly reading through it, making a few notes before dropping it in the basket. His aide watched in surprise, usually his boss was a lot more motivated when he planned on taking time off with his husband.

About fifteen minutes before noon several ANBU showed up in the outer office. “Can I help you?” the aide inquired.

“We’re here to escort Morino-sama to the memorial.” one of the ANBU replied, “We need to get going . . . if you could let him know we’re here.”

“What memorial?” the aide asked in confusion.

“For Hatake . . . they’re adding his name to the stone today.” was the short reply, “So he really needs to be there. Could you get him please?”

“Boss,” the shaken man began tentatively, “there are some ANBU here for you. . . why didn’t you say anything?”

“What is there to say?” he interrogator asked wryly, “What possible difference could it make?”

“Morino-sama, are you coming?” the ANBU asked respectfully, “I really don’t want to force you . . . but Lady Hokage was most insistent.”

“I won’t cause any problems.” Ibiki rumbled as he slowly stood and followed the masked figures out of the office, “I’ll see you in the morning. If anything comes up I should be at home.”

Every eye watched the imposing figure as he slowly strode toward the memorial stone. He stared stone faced at the picture of the masked copy-nin, replacing it in his mind with the smiling uncovered version he was so familiar with. He slowly ran a hand over his face as he struggled to maintain his composure. I’ll never see him again, he thought sluggishly, biting the inside of his cheek when he realized he’d never see the pack again either.

I don’t think I can do this, he decided, turning to go before a small hand stopped him in his tracks. “Morino-san, here let me help you.” the gentle voice soothed as he was once again turned to face the stone. “Lean on me.”

The interrogator peered down at the small man next to him, struggling to focus through suddenly blurry eyes. “Umino-sensei?” he asked, puzzled.

“Hai, it’s me. It’s alright to cry you know.” the chuunin said earnestly, “Sometimes it helps.” he concluded with a shrug.

“Nothing helps.” Ibiki said tonelessly, “This certainly doesn’t help.”

“Kakashi-sempai found solace here.” Iruka said sadly, “He was afraid that no one would come visit his name once he passed . . . I hope you will find the time to come here and speak with him Morino-san, he loved you very much.”

“Why is it I didn’t know you were such good friends with my husband Umino?” the interrogator growled aggressively.

“We weren’t exactly friends,” the chuunin replied slowly, “he asked me to do him a favor. It took some work for him to convince me though, and I guess we got to know each other.”

“And what, pray tell, was this important favor he needed from a chuunin school teacher?” Ibiki hissed, angered that there was something that his husband had kept hidden from him.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that yet.” Iruka replied gently, “Please, Morino-san, the service is about to start.”

“Fuck the service.” Ibiki spat, “And fuck you too Umino. You think you knew him . . . you don’t know shit. You don’t even know what he looked like.” he finished triumphantly.

“Kakashi-sempai hoped you would show me one of the pictures you had painted someday.” Iruka replied, “He said that would be soon enough.”

“And why did he think I would do that?” the interrogator ground out.

“He hoped we would spend time together after his death.” the chuunin hesitantly explained, “He knew we would both need someone.”

Ibiki clenched his fists and glared at the much smaller man. He couldn’t believe that this teacher was implying he’d had some kind of relationship with his husband . . . and at his memorial service no less. “Kakashi believed in loyalty, he would never have betrayed me with you.” he rumbled, “There’s no reason you should suddenly be left bereft by his death.”

“You misunderstand me, Morino-san. Kakashi-sempai knew you would be alone . . . and that I have always been alone. He hoped we could ease each other’s loneliness.” Iruka explained awkwardly, blushing brightly at the implications.

“He wanted to set me up with you?” Ibiki asked in confusion.

“He didn’t want you to be alone . . . he loved you very much, Morino-san, never doubt that. He was afraid that he wouldn’t make it back from a mission and you would be left . . .” the chuunin trailed off doubtfully at the look on the tall man’s face.

“You could never, ever, replace him Umino-san . . . don’t even bother to try.” Ibiki said dismissively, “If you’ll excuse me.” he turned and once again headed for the exit, only to be blocked by the same ANBU who’d escorted him there.

“Morino-sama . . .the service is about to start.” the ANBU said hesitantly, “You need to take your place.”

“I need to go back to work.” the interrogator replied tonelessly, “This isn’t helping anyone. Maybe if I accomplish something I’ll feel better.” His shoulders slumped in defeat when the ANBU made no move to let him pass. He watched as Tsunade stepped up to the podium and began to speak, only half hearing what she was saying.

“We are here today to honor one of our own who has fallen in the line of duty. Hatake Kakashi was the consummate ninja . . . he dedicated his entire life to this village, and suffered greatly because of that dedication. He died as he would have wished, fighting for the home he loved and protecting those who were precious to him.” the Hokage stated soberly.

“Didn’t protect me.” Ibiki muttered, anger rising at the futility of the mission that cost his husband his life. The Hokage fixed him with clear brown eyes, reading his mood before she continued.

“Hatake is survived by his husband, Morino Ibiki.” Tsunade said, wincing as the interrogator’s eyes slipped shut and a pained expression crossed his impassive face. “Although they found each other late in life I know that Hatake found a peace he had been lacking . . .” she stopped dead when the scarred man suddenly appeared in front of her, face twisted in anger.

“Shut up.” he hissed, “You know nothing about our relationship. This is all your fault . . . you’re glad he’s gone, so stop trying to pretend otherwise. You all disgust me.” he continued, voice rising as he vented his rage, “He was so much more than just the repository of a thousand jutsu . . . he was a wonderful cook, and very funny. He had such a big heart . . .” Ibiki choked on the words, running a hand over his face to compose himself before continuing, “He cared so much for all of you that he just accepted your rejection, and never considered abandoning you in return. You have no idea what you’ve lost.” he concluded before abruptly jutsuing away, leaving the remaining mourners to shuffle guiltily in place as they pondered his words.

The interrogator reappeared at home, stumbling into the bedroom and snatching up a kunai before heading into his studio. He stared impassively at the completed painting still propped on the easel. “You were so worried about protecting everyone . . . what about me.” he bellowed, “How the hell is this protecting me? Some fucking genius,” he sneered as he began to methodically shred the canvas with the kunai clenched in a white knuckled fist, “couldn’t listen to anyone else . . . I just wanted more time with you.” he finally stammered as he dropped to his knees and began to sob brokenly.

Three days after the memorial service Tsunade went to the house to check on the interrogator. She cautiously pushed open the door and wandered inside, appalled at the destruction. Everywhere she looked things were broken, smashed and torn . . . but there was no sign of Ibiki. “Morino, I know you’re here.” she called loudly, “At least show me you’re okay . . . otherwise you’ll never get rid of me.”

Instinct made her turn. Grief had not diminished the scarred man’s skill and he had come to within a foot without her noticing. “Why are you here Tsunade?” he asked dully, “There’s nothing left here for you to destroy, you’ll have to find someone else to torture.”

“I’m worried about you Ibiki.” she said seriously, “You can’t just mope here in this house, you have duties to attend to.”

“I quit.” he declared bluntly, “Fuck Konoha and fuck you too Lady Hokage. Accept my resignation or by god I swear I’ll go rogue and start picking off your ninja one by one.”

“Now, now don’t be hasty.” Tsunade soothed, “Take a paid leave, as long as you need . . . eventually you’ll want something to focus on.”

“I don’t need your blood money.” the interrogator scoffed, “My husband left me very well off, thank you. What I needed, you took. Now I just want to be left in peace. Good day Tsunade.” with that he forcibly escorted her out, shutting the door in her face.

Two more weeks had passed and no one had seen so much as a glimpse of Ibiki. “This is ridiculous.” Iruka muttered, “I’m going over there.” He stood up from the desk and turned worried eyes on Genma. “Cover for me, will you?”

“Where are you going?” the honey haired man asked absently.

“To check on Morino-san, of course.” the teacher replied, “He was so upset the day of the memorial, and he’s been on leave ever since. I just want to make sure he’s alright.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Genma exclaimed with a snort, “Somehow I don’t think Ibiki needs you coddling him.”

“You don’t know what he needs . . . no one does because they haven’t bothered to find out. Just watch the desk for me and I’ll be back soon.” the chuunin replied as he straightened his papers and stood to leave.

“Morino-san, gomen, it’s me . . . Iruka. I was just wondering if you needed anything.” the teacher called tentatively as he stepped through the unlocked door into the disaster that had been the lounge. “Oh, Ibiki.” he whispered sadly as he slowly began to return order to the space, righting toppled furnishings and carefully preserving any mementos he thought could be saved.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A cold voice asked from behind him.

Iruka slowly straightened up and turned to face a livid Morino Ibiki. “Morino-san, I’m sorry, I was just neatening up. I came to see if you needed anything.”

“I need to be left alone, Umino-san. If you could excuse me . . .?” the interrogator hinted roughly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with his grief.

“I can . . . but I doubt Kakashi-sempai would.” Iruka stated in a soft compassionate voice, “He wouldn’t want you to lock yourself away like this . . . he wanted you to be happy above all else.”

“Ha . . . if he wanted that he wouldn’t have left me.” came the angry response.

“He didn’t want to leave you . . . but he wouldn’t have been the man you loved if he hadn’t done his duty, deep down you know that.” The teacher paused a moment before asking, “Have you read his journal yet . . . I’m sure it will explain things better than I ever could.”

“‘kashi kept a journal?” Ibiki asked in confusion, “How do you know?”

“I gave them to you for a wedding present, didn’t he tell you the story?” Iruka asked slowly.

“No . . . why wouldn’t he tell me?” the scarred man looked hurt.

“Just read it . . . I’ll straighten up in here a bit.” the chuunin declared, making shooing motions with his hands as he turned back to the pile of rubble he had been sorting through.

The interrogator headed back into the bedroom, rummaging through the things on Kakashi’s side of the bed before finally finding the journal under a pile of Icha Icha and a manual on tactics. He stretched out on the copy-nin’s side of the bed, turning his head to breathe deeply of the scent that was already fading. “Miss you sweetheart.” he muttered roughly as he snuggled deeper into the pillow, pretending for a moment that Kakashi would be coming in from the shower any second and joining him.

Must have fallen asleep, he thought when he blearily opened his eyes. It was dark out and the only illumination was a few weak moonbeams filtering through the tall windows.
Movement caught his eye and the scarred man shook his head and blinked at the image before him. “‘kashi?” he croaked, “Is it really you?”

“It’s me koishii.” the familiar husky voice replied, “I’m here.”

“They said you were dead.” Ibiki whispered, “I thought you were dead.”

“I am dead beloved.” the copy-nin replied softly, “But I needed to see you one more time. I have to apologize . . . I’m so sorry I missed our anniversary. I wanted to come home to you more than anything . . . I just . . . couldn’t.”

“Can I touch you?” the interrogator asked hesitantly, moving forward until he was inches from the slouching figure, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please . . . I don’t have much time, let me say what needs to be said.” the wraith continued sadly, “I need to make things right. I was a coward ‘biki, I could never bring myself to say the words I needed to . . . I love you, so much . . . I just wish I’d had the strength to say it before, but never doubt it and never forget that I loved you with all I was.” Kakashi finished hoarsely, reaching out a pale hand to rub his knuckles against the scarred man’s cheek.

“I’ll join you.” Ibiki said suddenly, “Then we can be together again.”

“You will NOT”, the copy-nin barked, “. . . it is weak. I will be waiting for you, and I expect you to stop moping around and live the rest of your life so we have something to talk about.”

“It hurts.” the interrogator said petulantly.

“I know it does beloved, but the pain will dull and life will go on.” the lithe figure said sympathetically.

“I don’t want to let you go.” Ibiki repeated stubbornly.

“It isn’t up to you . . . or to me. We don’t always get what we want.” was the wry reply, “I left a surprise for you with Iruka . . . he’s a nice man, and very lonely. Make friends with him, please.”

“I am not interested in a substitute for you.” the scarred man growled, “No matter how nice he is.”

The copy-nin laughed heartily, “Always so stubborn.” he muttered, shaking his head, “Just don’t push him away . . . it hurts me to see you like this.”

“Then don’t leave me.” Ibiki pleaded, wrapping his arms around the figure and clutching it tightly.

“Never willingly.” Kakashi breathed as he joined their lips in a tender kiss. The interrogator’s eyes slid shut as he savored the taste and feel of the man in his arms one last time . . . and when he opened them he was standing alone in the middle of the room.

The sense of loss crashed over him and he sank to his knees, mouth open in a wordless cry as his heart broke anew.