Moonlight on Masks

A collaboration by Kilerkki and Nezuko, Prince of Rats

This is a collaborative work, but there is no way for us to both publish it without being in violation of the rules here. Nonetheless, all the work is equally shared, as should be all praise and criticism.

Additional material, including character analysis, discussions, etc, can be found on our livejournal community:

moonlit-anbu . livejournal . com

This is a work of derivative fiction based on "Naruto" by Kishimoto Masashi.

Chapter 9: Defending Her Honor

It was at the end of another longish meeting of the ANBU captains that Genta caught up with Hayate. His friend looked unusually unhappy--had been tense and impatient during the meeting. In fact, he'd been tense and impatient for several days. Which didn't make Genta feel exactly good about dumping this problem on Hayate now, but it needed to be dealt with, and Hayate was the one who needed to handle it. It was his team, after all.

"You got a minute, Hayate?" Genta asked, and he motioned for his friend to follow him. "I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

Hayate gave Genta a wary look and followed without comment.

"Man, you're really down in the dumps. Something wrong?" Genta asked.

"No. It's nothing. Just been busy," Hayate replied, but the glum look didn't leave him.

"Well I'm afraid I'm gonna make you busier," Genta said, and pushed open the doors to the cafeteria. He ordered a pair of hot coffees for them, and grabbed a couple of cookies, too.

"Cut the shit, Genta. What is it you're trying to butter me up for here?" Hayate asked, eyeing the pastries. "You want me to take on some horrible report you're supposed to write or something?"

"Nothing like that," Genta reassured, waving his hands dismissively. "I just have a little personnel issue I want to talk over with you. My guys were on the field with yours last week, sharing practice time. And when I left, they were in good shape, but when Daisuke came in, he was a bloody mess. He won't say a word about it, says it's personal. But he's been bitching and moaning about your team, so I figured maybe you knew what was up."

"I have no idea," Hayate said, and took one of the proffered cookies. "I'll ask Ryouma. If anyone in my team is likely to get pissy with that guy..." Actually if anyone was likely to take issue with Yonda Daisuke, it was probably Yuugao, but Hayate didn't think he really wanted to confront her about anything as touchy as that right now. It was as much as he could do to maintain a professional distance and not cross any more lines with her. Gods he was an idiot. Maybe he should tell Genta what had happened?

"Hayate?" Genta reached out and tapped Hayate's arm. "Earth to Hayate? You in there?"

"Yeah," Hayate said, standing. "I'll talk to the guys. Let you know what I find out."

Genta decided maybe he ought to do his own digging. But he'd give it a few days. Maybe Hayate had just eaten some bad fish.

Ryouma and Shou would have had to be deaf, blind, and probably dead not to have noticed the tension that had erupted in their team over the past three days. Hayate was unusually impatient and tetchy, though there could be any number of reasons for that. But Yuugao had missed an entire morning of training and showed up late that afternoon, looking so pale and sick that none of the men dared comment. Ryouma had guessed that it was her time of the month--and this was better than her biting their heads off, though a bit more worrying--but Shou pointed out that she'd never been like this before, and maybe she was coming down with the flu?

They spent the next day trying to verify their theory, and ended up discounting it. Yuugao was quiet and withdrawn, spoke only when spoken to, and never looked at Hayate at all; but she didn't faint, or throw up, or even so much as sneeze. When she asked Ryouma and Shou to continue her kenjutsu lessons, she said only, "I'm not ready to work with the taichou," and refused to speak any more of it. Ryouma began to concoct a grand theory based on her utter humiliation at Hayate's hands and her fragile pride being dashed to pieces. He wasn't yet sure if this was a good thing. If she got over it, it might help with some of her self-esteem issues; but at the moment, that seemed to be rather a large if.

So he was a little more than relieved when Hayate tracked the two of them down in the locker room after team training the next afternoon, after Yuugao had already vanished. Hayate still looked irritable, but at least he seemed ready to talk about it. "Yo," Ryouma greeted him, setting down the sandal with whose broken strap he'd been fidgeting while he and Shou discussed their latest theory. "You here to tell us what's happening to make you so pissy?"

Hayate gave Ryouma a cold look, and a slightly less chilly one to Shou, who was wisely keeping his mouth shut. "I've never had a discipline problem with you," he started. "And I don't like to think I do now."

Shou looked up sharply then. This was sounding more serious than he'd thought. "Hayate, there's nothing..."

"Be quiet and let me finish," Hayate said, and rubbed his head. It ached. Everything about the last several days gave him a headache, and avoiding Yuugao was not going to be a long term solution. Especially if Shou and Ryouma were picking up on it.

"Sakamoto Genta came to me yesterday after our meeting to ask about what the hell you did to his squad at the end of practice last week. I had to tell him I had no idea. So what the hell did you do? Is there some problem I need to know about?"

Ryouma had been hoping for some dramatic confession of Secrets and possibly Espionage and all-around Cool Stuff. He hadn't figured Squad Three into his theories and couldn't see what they had to do with it. "We didn't do anything!" he protested, a little sullenly. Well, there was the old prank war with Aoki Kazuhiro and Shimizu Masao, but that had been strictly off-duty, and it had ended anyway after Fukashi died, months ago. "Anyway, they finished way before we did. That Yonda kid hung around for a while afterward, but Kazuhiro and Masao headed off." And they were the only reason he'd interact with Squad Three, anyway. Kazuhiro and Masao were good friends of his, but the rookie was an arrogant bastard, and Ryouma was cocky enough himself not to countenance it in others.

"Yeah," Shou said. "Daisuke was waiting around after we..." He stopped himself. He and Ryouma had left Yuugao alone on the field with Yonda Daisuke. The most arrogant, chauvinistic jerk in all of ANBU it seemed. And one who had some kind of grudge against their teammate.

"And?" Hayate asked, sounding like a parent waiting for a confession about a broken vase.

"And nothing," Shou said, glancing at Ryouma. He hoped his partner picked up on what he just had. "We finished training with Yuugao and we left. Nothing happened."

"Well, we left," Ryouma said. He sounded like that kid confessing to, oh, maybe tossing a couple of shuriken in his bedroom, and maybe even letting his little brother cajole him into a game of Shuriken Tag, and maybe even passing by that table where the vase was--uh, had been... Not that he had any idea what was going on, but he was beginning to get a glimmer of one, and it looked bad. "Yuu-chan hung behind. Did she kill the guy? No, she'd've been detained by now, not just moping around trying not to cry. Unless she thinks she killed him..." That was as good a theory as any, although Ryouma had rather liked the one where Yuugao fell madly in love with a traitor to Konoha and then had to kill him herself when she discovered his secret. "How long is he in hospital?"

"He's not," Hayate said, frowning. "But evidently you do know something about what went on." And it involved Yuugao. He cursed silently to himself. He should have seen it coming, really. Genta had complained more than once about Yonda's attitude, and Yuugao wasn't the sort to take an insult lying down.

An insult. Hayate's mind snapped back to the... sword lesson. The liberties he'd taken with her... that was a terrible insult. And of course she was unhappy. He wouldn't be surprised if she filed a formal complaint about him.

"Hayate?" It was Shou, sounding concerned.

Hayate blinked and looked up at him, trying to cover his unease.

"Are you alright, Hayate? You kind of spaced out there."

"It's just a headache," Hayate said, sounding grim.

"Huh," Ryouma said, thoughtfully. "I'd've thought Yonda'd be more of a pain in the ass." He held up a hand reflexively, as if to ward off his teammates' glares. "Honest, Hayate, we dunno anything else. Yuu-chan hung around behind; I figured she just went straight home, 'cause we didn't see her in the locker room." His dark eyes narrowed. Hayate's comments hadn't dissolved his theory; they'd only strengthened it. But if Yonda wasn't in hospital, and Yuugao was still upset...

Someone needed to sort this out. And the boys who watched Yuugao's back on their missions might as well start doing it here, too. Ryouma threw Shou a significant glance. "We can sure find out."

Hayate gave them a pained look. "I came to talk to you to put an end to a discipline problem, not create one," he said warningly. He rubbed his head again and sighed. "We have to take missions with them, remember please. No matter how much or little you dislike..." He blinked, catching himself. "Like your comrades, they are your comrades."

Shou stood up and walked over to Hayate with a deep frown on his face. "You don't look well, Hayate," he said, completely ignoring Hayate's words. They might be comrades, but Daisuke was also a rookie and an arrogant prick. He needed to be taken down a notch or two, anyone could see that. Especially if he was tangling with Yuugao.

"I'm fine," Hayate insisted, as Shou put a hand to his forehead.

"You seem to be a little feverish," Shou said, and gave Ryouma a sign behind his back with his free hand. Follow me, it said. "I think you should consider taking the rest of the afternoon off and getting some sleep."

In the field, that hand-sign generally meant that one's team was heading into dangerous territory, and that one misstep could get the whole team killed. Things were usually a bit clearer in the field. Ryouma might have no idea where he was supposed to follow now, but no one could accuse him of inability to improvise. (Often the improvisations ended up spectacularly bloody, but that was half the fun, wasn't it?)

"We'll remember and be good boys and all that jazz," he promised. "You can depend on us. Ending discipline problems is our other specialty. Aside from killing people." In most cases, and possibly in this one, they might go together--but Ryouma was all innocence, and he certainly wasn't thinking of how to put an end to a particular problem named Yonda Daisuke.

Even so, perhaps that wasn't the best way to put it. "Or," he added cheerfully, "we could just go talk to Yuu-chan. Offer her a shoulder to cry on, see what's up." He'd rather wade through a crocodile-infested swamp naked than provoke his quiet kunoichi teammate into crying on his shoulder, but maybe Hayate wouldn't realize that.

Hayate was about to reply when Shou interrupted. "Don't you think Hayate looks ill, Ryouma?" Trust the other man to run at the mouth. But confusing Hayate was probably just as good as benching him for what was obviously a tension headache. Probably caused by them, at this point.

"'m fine," Hayate protested. "And don't change the subject. If you're going to talk to Yuugao or anyone on Squad Three, make sure you don't..."

"Hayate, we're not the idiots you seem to think," Shou cut him off. "But I'm going to send you down to talk to Nanao-sensei if you won't take my advice about getting some rest."

"You can't do that," Hayate grumbled. "I'm not unfit, I just have a headache and you are making it worse." He couldn't even remember what he'd been going to say, really. Don't make trouble for Genta. Don't make trouble for me. He was distracted and irritated, and it wasn't Shou or Ryouma's fault that he was in this mess, he reminded himself. He sighed and bit his lip.

"In that case," Ryouma said, dumping his gear back into his locker and springing to his feet, "we'll take ourselves off. Go to bed, Hayate. Somewhere that isn't the couch in the office. You could even try someone else's bed; I've heard that does wonders for headaches..."

His babble didn't even have to make sense, at this point. The sooner Hayate got rid of them, the sooner he could get down to business. The sort of business that would, he hoped, end with Yonda Daisuke hurting.

It was wanting to be in someone else's bed that was the whole problem, Hayate thought with chagrin. He waved a hand at his men dismissively. Maybe Shou was right. He hadn't exactly been sleeping well ever since... ever since he'd kissed Yuugao. He sighed heavily; just thinking about it made his temples throb.

"Go," Hayate said, and stepped towards the door himself. "Do whatever it is you're going to do, only don't let me find out about it. If you need me, I'll be at home."

Shou gave him a look, and Hayate added. "Sleeping, Sensei. I'll be at home sleeping."

"Good," Shou smiled. "I really didn't want to have to bust you to Nanao-sensei."

"I wouldn't've minded," Ryouma murmured, but he said it low enough that Hayate could pretend not to hear. He turned to Shou even before the door swung shut on their retreating captain's back, and his dark eyes lit with an unholy glee. "So," he said. "Sounds like we need to track down the little punk and have ourselves a talk."

And then... "Maybe," he added, much more reluctantly, "we should talk to Yuu-chan too."

"I say we talk to Squad Three's rookie first. And if we need to after that, we can give Yuugao a heads up." Shou picked up a small senbon case from the top shelf of his locker. He showed it to Ryouma with a sly grin before tucking it into a pocket. "Think he'll know what these are?" he asked, and the smile grew a little more devious. They were, clearly, medical grade senbon. Taken from Shou's stash of medical equipment.

"I suppose we ought to try to find out what he actually did to her. If only so we can be very explicit about what he's never allowed to do ever again."

"You think he really did something?" Ryouma kicked his locker shut. "I mean, something we need to kill him for. If she roughed him up, she must've had a reason for it. S'not like she makes a habit of flipping out and killing people. Or beating them up, or whatever. Maybe she'd be a little less uptight if she did."

"If he raped her, we kill him," Shou said, as calmly as if he were confirming a plan to pick up some dango on the way to the next team meeting. "Or I guess, if he did something like that. Only I'd kind of assume if he did that, she'd have already killed him."

He carefully latched his locker and shrugged a faded blue hooded sweatshirt on over a black t-shirt.

"But anyway, he definitely needs to be taught not to mess with us or our rookie."

Ryouma hadn't actually been thinking of anything that bad; he would cheerfully have slaughtered Yonda for much less. Or at least attempt it. He'd sort of half-promised Hayate they wouldn't kill Yonda (though really he'd only promised he'd be a good boy, and that was open to all sorts of interpretation). "Do we start out slow?" he asked, leading the way through the aisles of lockers and benches towards the door. "Ask him what happened? Or just pull him into an alley and beat him bloody? Bloodier?" What had happened?

Curiosity had always been one of Ryouma's strongest traits, and although it had nearly got him killed more times than he could be bothered to remember, it had saved his neck--and his teams'--just as often. His teams' lives might not be at stake here, but Yuugao's happiness clearly was. And although Ryouma usually shirked responsibility whenever he could, this was one responsibility he wouldn't be turning down.

"We immobilize him," Shou said, following his taller comrade out. "Make sure he knows we mean business right from the start. And then we tell him we're sure he already knows why we're there, but maybe he'd like to explain to us what exactly made him think he could get away with whatever he did to Yuugao without having to face us afterwards."

Shou smiled, and it wasn't an entirely pleasant expression on his otherwise rather sweet-featured face. He wasn't exactly T&I material, but he was an ANBU Hunter and a born genjutsu-specialist. He took a certain pleasure in the prospect of seeing Yonda Daisuke squirm.

"Between the two of us we can take him down easy, right? I'll make sure he doesn't sense us coming."

"Could take him down on my own," Ryouma muttered, glancing away from Shou's entirely-too-creepy smile. It was all too easy to forget, sometimes, that Shou was a genjutsu user as well as a medic and a worrywart. And it was, sometimes, a little disturbing to remember. Righteous vengeance was straight up Ryouma's alley, but he liked menacing a whole lot better than he liked creepy. "Except," he added, cheering up a little, "that'd probably involve melting him. And then we wouldn't get answers. So I guess you can help."

He shoved his hands onto the pockets of his black combats and took the stairs at a quick jog, heading for the lobby and its register. Two minutes' casual questioning established that Kazuhiro and Masao were still checked in and roaming somewhere around HQ, but Genta and Daisuke had both checked out. "Any idea when they'll be back?" Ryouma inquired. "Hayate's been making noises about inter-team training sessions--and, of course, he can't be bothered to actually schedule it."

The kid at the desk grinned. "Well, Sakamoto-taichou didn't leave on his own, if you get my drift. So you might wanna wait on tracking him down."

"Shoot." Ryouma frowned at the register. "Could you at least let me know where I can find Daisuke? He's the ninjutsu user of the team--the guy I really wanna catch, anyway."

Thirty seconds later, he had Yonda Daisuke's home address scribbled on a scrap of paper, and a definite bounce to his step as he accompanied Shou out the front door. "See? I can do subterfuge!"

"Yes," Shou agreed. "You can. It's always a shock when you show talent, but I suppose you'd be long dead if you didn't have something going for you besides your brawn." He turned down the street to the right as soon as they were out of the gate outside ANBU's compound. "So where are we going? I'm kind of interested to see what kind of place this guy lives in. He has enough attitude I'd guess it was gonna be near my family's place."

In the wealthy section.

Although money didn't necessarily make for arrogance, it certainly helped. And Daisuke had arrogance in spades.

"Thirty-seven Partridge Street, apartment 13," Ryouma announced, crumpling up the scrap of paper and shoving it into his pocket. "That's just a couple streets down from Hayate's, isn't it?" It was a middle-class residential district, filled mostly with unmarried ninja and a few young families. Shou's neighborhood wasn't much different, although Ryouma lived on the other side of town in a neighborhood generously described as just one step up from the slum. Shou might have come down in the world, but Ryouma'd made it at least two steps up.

They found Partridge Street, and the apartment building at number 37, without trouble. It was a five-story concrete complex, a little older than most of the surrounding buildings, but well-maintained. The stairwell was clean and brightly lit, the doors closed and the neighbors invisible. Apartment 13 had a scratchy mat outside the door. Ryouma eyed it with a scornfully curled lip and kicked the door.

There was no motion for a moment, then the door swung open to reveal Yonda Daisuke, dressed casually in jeans and a red shirt, and with his hair tousled and damp as if he'd just come from a shower. He certainly didn't look like he should've been hospitalized, except for a thin scab on his lower lip. His brow furrowed in confusion for a moment at seeing the two ANBU on his doorstep, but the puzzlement couldn't stop his grin. "Ryouma-senpai! Uh...Shou-senpai, right? C'mon in!" He stepped back, holding the door open, sweeping a hand out to indicate the living room. It looked like the typical bachelor pad, with a pair of socks rolled up and forgotten under the battered sofa, a jounin vest flung over the back of a chair, stacks of magazines slithering onto the floor under the coffee table. Ryouma glanced curiously at the top magazine in the pile. The busty blonde on the cover nearly obscured the title: Lights Out, one of the Fire Country's more notorious monthlies. He could probably get a month's worth of blushes out of Shou if he carried it off with them...

Daisuke was talking again. "The sofa kind of sinks in the middle, but it's comfortable. Can I get you anything? Beer? Shouchuu?"

"Beer's good," Ryouma said, a little off-balance. He hadn't expected... Well, he'd never actually talked to the rookie much, outside that mission they'd run with Squad Three last month. But Masao and Kazuhiro's stories had certainly depicted him as an arrogant punk--"Kinda like you," Masao had said, "but less amusing."--and he'd been entirely prepared to enjoy punching the rookie's face in. That wasn't cockiness in the swift turn to the tiny kitchen and the cheerful grin as he handed out beers, though. He looked almost nervous as he settled back into the armchair and popped the lid on his bottle. And his eyes, after that one blank moment trying to recall Shou's name, had settled back on Ryouma's face with a kind of anxiety to please that almost reminded him of Yuugao around the taichou. Before this week, at least.

Ryouma scowled down at his beer.

Shou took his beer with patrician grace, took a polite sip and settled back to observe his target. The obsequious little rat bastard. If he weren't so thoroughly convinced Yonda Daisuke was straight--and he'd certainly made enough of a show of talking about his oh-so-sexy girlfriend on that mission last month to convince anyone he was heterosexual--although perhaps that was a case of protesting too much? In any event, he certainly was acting like he had a crush on Ryouma. And wouldn't that go right to Ryouma's head? Although Shou was pretty sure he could tease Ryouma about his manly inamorata enough that he could knock him back down a peg when it became necessary. Still. Rookie hero worship, plain and simple.

Shou really, really disliked Daisuke, he decided. Especially how utterly clueless he was being. How could he sit there and chat up Ryouma about ninjutsu, knowing what he'd done to Yuugao? Whatever it was. It was clearly a sign the man had no remorse whatsoever. And being thoroughly convinced that Yonda Daisuke was guilty as charged, Shou took one more sip of beer and stood up.

"May I use your toilet?" he asked, ever so polite. And when Daisuke nodded and inclined his head and offered that it was "down the hall", Shou stepped behind his chair, pulled out a handful of slender, medical-grade senbon, and swiftly lodged them in Daisuke's neck.

The big man went limp at once, from the neck down, though his face registered outraged surprise.

Stepping back around to face him, Shou offered him a chilly smile. "No need to worry. I've paralyzed your voluntary muscles, but your autonomic nervous system should be intact. In fact, assuming I did that right--and I'm quite sure I did. You can ask Ryouma if you doubt my skills as a medic. Assuming I did that correctly, you should have full sensation of pain as well."

Daisuke's eyes shot to Ryouma's face, and they weren't just outraged now. There was real betrayal there. Ryouma ruthlessly squashed down the beginnings of sympathy and leaned forward, baring his teeth in a smirk. "You ever really thought about the kind of guy who volunteers to be the medic and genjutsu specialist for an assassination squad?" he inquired. "Shou knows what he's doing. He knows stuff I'm not sure I want to know. And it sounds like you've heard plenty of Kazuhiro's stories about me. You really want to find out the sort of stuff that makes me look away?"

The rookie licked his lips. His voice was almost breathless. "I don't--what do you want?"

Ryouma shrugged. "It's pretty simple. You met up with our teammate Yuugao last week. What happened?"

"You're upset about that?" Daisuke demanded. Even with the little air his non-cooperative lungs allowed him, he managed to sound both incredulous and indignant.

"Wrong answer," Shou said, and grinned that terrible grin again. He didn't hide his motions this time as he opened the senbon case and carefully selected one--an aught-three gauge as thick around as a pencil and razor sharp. Rarely did he get to do this kind of work with such clear evidence that the target deserved it.

"Try again. Let's see if this helps." He dragged the needle's tip down Daisuke's sternum, plunging it into the solar plexus, and watched the rookie's eyes go white with pain.

Ryouma shifted, surged to his feet, and circled around the coffee table. He could see Daisuke's face from this angle, but Shou's back hid whatever the medic was doing. "We want the story," he said flatly, and then corrected himself: "The truth. Neither of you are in hospital. Your captain's complaining that we did something to your squad, and none of the rest of us know anything about it." At least, Kazuhiro and Masao didn't; they would have told Genta instantly if they'd had even an inkling of the truth. He wondered again, uneasily, if they should have asked Yuugao first... But confronting her about whatever had made her so miserable would be a hell of a lot more uncomfortable than anything that could result from this.

"Let 'im breathe, Shou," he added. The rookie was gasping like a fish.

Shou withdrew the needle slowly, twisting it for maximum friction. A dark bloom of blood--deep red against the shirt's lighter hue--appeared on Daisuke's shirt around the hole the needle had pierced through the fabric. Shou flashed Daisuke another smile, and pressed a hand glowing blue-green with healing chakra against the wound, closing it almost instantly.

"Remembering the events of last week any more clearly yet, Rookie?"

Daisuke took the deepest breath he could manage, but it didn't seem to do much. He was still wide-eyed, wild-eyed. "Nothing," he panted. "We--talked. Kenjutsu. She's not--good enough. Get you killed." His eyes caught on Ryouma's face, pleading--but it was belief he seemed to be asking for, not mercy. "You know. Girls don't belong in ANBU."

They'd heard the story of Yuugao's reaction on the day of initiation, when she'd smashed this very man's instep for a comment much less cutting. Ryouma whistled silently. No wonder there'd been a confrontation. He knew Yuugao's fierce pride well enough by now to be certain that she must have demonstrated some tremendous self-control, if Daisuke had made it out without even a limp. The scabbing lip looked like it could be about four days old, though...

"I don't know, actually," he said coolly, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the television set. "She's got an outstanding mission record, and she broke my captain's shoulder. I liked her from the start. Shou used to think about the same as you do, though. You still agree with him, Shou?"

Shou took out one of his longest, slimmest needles and held it in the air, as if measuring its length. Then he stepped in and nudged Daisuke's knees apart with a kick, and gave him an appraising look. "I'd say," he said, and twirled the needle between thumb and fingers. "I'd say.." Shou's arm moved almost too quickly to be seen, the needle flashed silver in the air, sticking quivering straight up from the base of Daisuke's crotch. "She's got a lot more balls than you do. I can't imagine anyone I'd rather have at my back than Yuugao."

It was an exaggeration, perhaps, to say can't but it wasn't far off the mark.

"She's certainly a woman, and she's certainly better than most of the ninja I know in ANBU."

Ouch. Ryouma had a very good idea where that senbon had just gone, and from the horrified pain distorting Daisuke's face, he was very glad he wasn't on the receiving end of Shou's anger. He'd been planning to get a few hits of his own in, but somehow that protective anger had drained away the longer he spent in Daisuke's living room. Even the rookie's unrepentant prejudice seemed more worthy of pity than blood, now--especially given that Shou seemed to have struck directly at the root of the problem. Ryouma caught himself hoping, for the rookie's sake, that the damage wasn't permanent. He didn't seem a bad guy. And idiocy wasn't a crime--out of uniform, at least.

"Guess you don't know," he said. "But then, you seem kinda mis-informed anyway. Yuugao's saved Shou's life once already, on a mission. She can beat me hand-to-hand two times out of three." Okay, that was something of an exaggeration--it was more like three times out of four, and only Ryouma's extra weight and experience could give him the win on that fourth time. "And even if she couldn't--she's our teammate now." He leaned forward, and the cool casualness fell away like a dropped henge. His voice rang like steel. "And when you mess with her, you mess with us."

Shou's expression was just as fierce for a moment, then he smiled, that same cool, calculated smile. "I can see by your eyes that we have reached an understanding," he said, and reached down to pluck the needle back out. He eased it out with a few gentle twitches. Just enough to send signals of distress racing through Daisuke's groin, to make his upper lip bead with sweat and his breath catch.

"Don't worry," he said, wiping the needle with a handkerchief and stowing it back in its case. "I'm sure there won't be any lasting damage. And a couple of weeks of rest from any activities that might strain the area..." Shou gestured at Daisuke's spread legs. "Shouldn't be a hardship. You're free to take missions."

"You're crazy," Daisuke breathed at last, when he could finally speak again. He was brave, at least; Ryouma had to give him that. He didn't know many men who'd still talk back to Shou after a demonstration like that. "You--the little bitch is the one who hit me. I didn't even touch her!"

"Keep it that way," Ryouma advised, "and we're on good terms. If you don't... Well." There was nothing even slightly friendly about his grin. "Shou's work may be a little more fine-tuned than mine, but mine's permanent."

Daisuke had seen the effects of Ryouma's work, on that collaborative mission. He licked his lips again. "She's your teammate," he said finally. "But if she endangers my team on a mission--"

"Don't worry," Ryouma said flatly. "I don't think we'll be taking many missions together for a while. In fact, we'll have Hayate make sure of it."

Shou checked Daisuke's wounds carefully one more time. The solar plexus injury was nothing but a faint red spot. The place the needles had pierced his neck to paralyze him looked like minor bug bites. Or perhaps pimples. And the injury between the legs, he knew without having to look, was too tiny to be seen. Although Daisuke would undoubtedly be feeling the effects in the form of numbness and tingling and a certain... loss of function... for several days, if not weeks.

"Thank you for the beer," he said, picking up the bottle, still full, to take with him. "Don't get up." Daisuke couldn't have stood yet anyway. There was a good thirty minute getaway window for them if they needed it. "We'll see ourselves out."

He waited at the door for Ryouma to catch up before going through, and shutting it with a soft click behind them. They were out on the streets and a block away, before Shou said anything.

"Well, that was entertaining. But we still don't have a damn clue what's wrong with Yuugao."

"She was upset enough to deck the punk, but that's not nearly enough to make her brood like she's been doing," Ryouma agreed. "I mean...he criticized her kenjutsu? She knows she's bad. That's why she's taking lessons. And she knows she's doing a damn fine job at everything else." He sighed roughly. "You think we need to talk to her?"

"Not really?" Shou said, sounding diffident. "I mean... Maybe it's something else. Maybe it's a boyfriend or something. Something personal. Even if Daisuke had a hand in setting her off." Shou thought of his sisters and their moods. Intruding when one of them was depressed like Yuugao seemed to be was a sure fire way to end up catching all their vitriol. Yuugao could probably take them both down if she were sufficiently motivated to fight them. Or at least there would be a lot of injuries all around and some very messy inquiries that would make Hayate extremely unhappy and... It just got worse from there. So if Yuugao reacted angrily to their meddling, that had an obvious bad outcome.

On the other hand, sometimes inquiring what was wrong with a dispirited sister made her cry. Shou didn't think he could handle it if they made Yuugao cry.

"Maybe we should just give her some time. It's only been a few days."

"She didn't seem to have a problem until after she fought with the taichou," Ryouma said thoughtfully. "Maybe we were right, after all. I mean, if Hayate slammed her down after Daisuke told her she sucked... He can be a real bastard when he's trying to make a point, and she's been moody over smaller things than that. And if she, I dunno, broke up with her boyfriend on top of everything else... Hey, is she dating anyone?" He was astonished to realize how much he didn't actually know about their newest teammate. They'd have to bug the desk clerk again to even find out where she lived.

"I have no idea," Shou answered, and took a sip of the beer Daisuke had been so kind to give them. He handed the bottle to Ryouma and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "If she did, it's not anyone in ANBU, or the rumor mill would have been all over it." His mind turned back to the question of Hayate. It was true, if Hayate was trying to get their attention, especially when he thought their weapons work, or really any aspect of their combat skills, was lacking, he could be a harsh taskmaster.

"You remember that time Hayate went after Fukashi? When he'd nearly flubbed that mission to Stone?" It had been ugly afterwards, watching their taichou beat Fukashi nearly into the ground in a spar. "I mean, Fukashi kind of earned that, since he was being arrogant and saying he didn't need excellent swordsmanship as long as he had his kusuri-gama. Hayate took him apart. You think that's what happened with Yuugao?"

"Can't see Yuu-chan mouthing off like Fukashi did, though." Far better to remember Fukashi's smart mouth and his lewd jokes than to dwell on his last moments. And Ryouma had been able to look at that charred mask on the wall of Hayate's office for months now without wanting to be sick or get drunk. That was another thing Yuugao had done for their team, another reason to look out for her. He scowled thoughtfully down at the dusty street, kicked aimlessly at a pebble, and shook his head at last. "She wouldn't talk back. You know how she is--if she thinks you're right, she'll take everything you throw at her without a word. And if she really messed up, even once..."

Well, Hayate'd been trained in the Gekkou style, where harsh criticism was a compliment, where a beat-down meant you had the potential to be worthy of your master's attention. Given how Yuugao had apparently responded to Daisuke's verbal attacks, though, she didn't see it that way. And while Hayate was usually pretty perceptive about his squad members' needs and abilities, if he'd slipped up with Yuugao, that would go a long way towards explaining her black mood this week.

"So," Ryouma wondered, "is it Hayate we should be beating up after all?"

"I think," Shou said, with dawning realization, "he's already doing it for us." It explained so much. Hayate'd been in just as foul a mood--withdrawn and grouchy and just plain pissy--exactly as long as Yuugao had been off. "That's gotta be what happened. He gave her a good old-fashioned Gekkou Hayate-taichou style schooling, and she probably... Oh man. Do you think he made her cry? Even if she only kind of lost it for a second, she'd probably half-consider seppuku as the only reasonable way to save face. And Hayate'd feel like a complete bastard, which would explain why he's been impossible to live with since then, too."

He was sure of it. It made sense, and it was a founding principle you learned in medicine--when you hear hoofbeats, think horse, not zebra. The simplest explanation was usually the best one.

"I seriously hope they get over it soon. The next mission is going to be a real pain in the tail if they're both still sulking."

"We could try telling 'em to just get over themselves," Ryouma suggested, but he rejected the idea a second later with a shake of his head. "Getting them to hate us instead of each other--or themselves--isn't gonna help much."

"I don't think they hate each other. More like she's embarrassed and he realizes he screwed up." Shou put a hand out for the bottle. "If you're not gonna drink the beer, then give it back." He stretched as he walked, easily matching Ryouma's strides. "I can't believe you were so stressed about the whole thing you actually forgot to drink even with a cold bottle in your hand." He laughed and swiped the bottle away, taking a large swallow. "You really like our little Rookie-chan, don't you?"

"She's our teammate," Ryouma snapped, glowering down at his other teammate. But he knew what Shou had been implying--or, more to the point, what he hadn't been implying--and the stiffness slowly relaxed out of his shoulders. "And she's a good kid," he said, lamely. "She..."

It was something to do with Fukashi, and the way Ryouma's life wasn't quite so empty anymore with a fourth mask running beside him and a quiet, confident voice acknowledging Hayate's orders. Something to do with the way she'd teased him back when they first met, as though she had plenty of experience with older brothers--although one of the few facts he did know about her was that she had no family left. And somehow, that was enough for him to slip into the role he'd begun to play, to see her as a little sister as well as a teammate: someone to tease, and someone to protect.

And it looked like the only way he could protect her now, with the damage already done, was to make her good enough to throw the lie in Daisuke's teeth, and to make Hayate proud.

"C'mon," he said, quickening his pace. "There's still an hour or two of light left. Plenty of time to get her training again."

ooo ooo ooo

End Chapter Nine

A cast list, for those struggling with the large numbers of characters we've introduced, can be found at:

moonlit-anbu . livejournal . com / 2063 . html