JBMcDragon (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jbmcdragon) wrote,@ 2007-02-12 15:15:00 |
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Notes:
If you haven't already, it would be wise to read the previous volumes:
Volume 1
Volume 2
Volume 3, chapter 1, Chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, Epilogue
Bonus Volume, Bow Chicka Bow Wooooow
Volume 4
Given that this is a crossover between JBMcDragon's The Kakashi Mission world (this is set after the sequel, Former Lives) andmessypeaches's Side Effects world (link found on Volume 1 of The Bathroom Mirror fics, and it's completely and TOTALLY different from ChibiRisu-Chan's mpreg Side Effects), you might want to read those, too. Just a thought.
JB
Extra note, added much later: The comments section is now rated NC-17. You've been warned. *cracks up*
J
The Great Bathroom Mirror Escapades Vol. 5
In Which No Ibiki, Anywhere, Gets Any Respect
JBMcDragon and MessyPeaches
Someone was whistling. Given that no one whistled in his vicinity, ever--unless it was a signal-whistle--it was unusual enough. Given that this particular whistling was feminine--he could tell from the timbre--and accompanied by the sound of a shower, it was more unusual.
Ibiki woke up.
The sheets were cream. He didn't *have* sheets. They were a useless necessity.
He let his chakra spread throughout the room, found no other living humans except the one in the shower, then rolled up to his feet.
No weapon under the pillow, either. Whatever bed he was in, they were obviously unprepared. He was, however, naked. He glanced around for clothes, decided it didn't matter, and eyeballed the room.
Just one bed, and a low dresser cluttered with knickknacks. He plucked up what was obviously a weapons pouch and glanced through it quickly, pulling out kunai and sedative tags, but leaving the first aid equipment.
His vest was laid out over a chair, but a quick glance confirmed that it wasn't *quite* his. He left it.
The shower turned off. He slipped quietly to the door and stood there, dead silent, waiting. It opened after a moment, and he didn't bother pausing to see who it was. This wasn't his apartment, and he wasn't sure what was going on, and therefore this was an enemy. Asking questions came after securing the area.
He slapped her--that it was a woman was obvious--with a sedative tag. She dropped. He nudged her with a foot, rolling her over, ignoring the towel. He kept the kunai ready, but she didn't move on her own.
He recognized her, though. After a moment he knelt, peering at her face, trying to remember. He was *good* with faces, damnit.
Amiri. Ibiki humphed. There was no Amiri in his world. Which meant--
He looked around again, sharply this time. This was *perfect.*
**
Something had gone terrible wrong with Amiri's sheets. Mostly they seemed to have vanished, and he was lying on a rather musty mattress. He opened his eyes and looked at the coarse fabric sullenly. Why was it not nice sheets? Crap. This would mean he'd have to wake all the way up. He didn't really want to wake all the way up. He'd gotten used to sort of half-sleeping through when she left.
But she usually didn't steal the sheets. Well, not the one under him. And shouldn't there be a mattress pad or something? He sat up, looked around, and felt a deep and immediate level of concern that he was not entirely comfortable feeling this early in the morning.
He got to his feet, wrapping the comforter around his waist because at the moment it was the safest bit of covering there. It looked like a shinobi's apartment, he thought, looking around. It certainly didn't look like the sort of place one tossed a captured shinobi into. The weapons on the wall really tipped him off about that.
He pulled a rather nasty-looking katana from its display sheath, made sure it was an actual blade and not a crappy piece of art, and immediately felt better.
He checked the window--had a lovely view of a brick wall--no clean line of sights from any decent areas to stand and shoot, so he probably wouldn't be attacked through here.
A knock shuffled softly through the apartment, and Ibiki grabbed the long jacket hanging from a hook and added an illusion so it looked like he was wearing something under it, rather than looking like a creepy flasher. Just creepy was enough for most days, thank you. Then, with a glance at the clock--five a.m.--he opened the door.
Shikamaru stood there, looking annoyed and sheepish all rolled into one, staring at his toes. "I have the report," he mumbled unhappily, and thrust a handful of crinkled pages at him. "You know," he added in a hurried undertone, "I really don't think Iruka needs me there anymore. I mean, he hasn't had *any* panic attacks in a week, and he says the nightmares are almost gone . . ."
Ibiki skimmed the notes as quickly as he possibly could. It looked like a daily report. Had he been turning these reports in every day? At five a.m.? He couldn’t do it after school? What sort of idiot ran this operation? Oh, wait, apparently him. Or other-him. Okay, at least he knew where he was now.
"You know, you should really turn your reports in in slightly better condition than this," he said after a moment, looking at the tattered edges. "Iron them or something . . . Shit like this is hard to file."
Shikamaru lifted one shoulder. "I know, I know . . ." he mumbled. Then sighed.
"Give it another week and then you can stop," Ibiki said. If there hadn't been panic attacks for a week, after two it'd be safe. One week there was still room for backsliding, but . . .
Shikamaru's dark eyes shot upward suspiciously. "What?"
"You've been watching him, do you think he's stable enough?"
The gaze grew more suspicious. "Well, yeah . . ."
*Ah, crap, what did I do?* Ibiki thought. "Then why are you still here?" There. That was kind of . . . abrupt. Most people didn't bother him after he'd used that tone of voice. At least not for a few minutes, unless they were particularly outraged, in which case he got to ignore them.
Shikamaru took a cautious step back. Then another. Still watching.
"Have a nice day," Ibiki said automatically, and shut the door. He heard the pitter patter of running feet a moment later. *Okay, I know where I am now,* Ibiki thought to himself, looking around. *Step one: ransack the place.*
**
Ibiki finished tying off Amiri's fingers, stuffed her in the box he'd found in the attic, and buried it under several other boxes. After a moment's hesitation, he poked air holes.
He was pretty sure, by her widened eyes alone, that she'd realized he wasn't her Ibiki. She'd said something about scars just before he'd gagged her.
He wandered back down the stairs, still not bothering with clothes. He had more important things to do--like ransack the place.
There were far too many knickknacks--little figures of animals and tiny people all clustered onto a shelf. The rest of the house looked like a normal person's house, filled with things he never bothered with.
There weren't enough notes. A quick run through the drawers and cabinets convinced him that this Ibiki didn't keep the majority of his notes here--or he didn't keep notes at all. That thought was appalling.
He supposed a trip into the village was necessary. He began to look for clothing. He wanted records of everyone living--and dead--first off. This trip was going to be profitable.
**
Shikamaru got to the school out of breath, having sprinted halfway across the village. Bursting through the door he spotted Iruka putting files away in his desk, and raced over to plant his hands on the desk. "Iruka!" he gasped.
Iruka's head jerked up. He'd never seen Shikamaru go to so much effort over something. "What's wrong?"
"Ibiki--I was turning in reports--" he flushed a dull pink. "For, uh, a mission--"
"Me," Iruka said plainly. The flush darkened. "All right, forget the apologies and uncomfortable bits, Shikamaru. What's wrong?"
Shikamaru squirmed for a moment, then said, "Ibiki asked my *opinion.* And told me to have a nice day!"
Iruka frowned. "He was mocking you," he said, and went back to his filing.
"No!" Shikamaru yanked the file away, determined. "He smiled! And it was *friendly!*"
Iruka looked at him, studying the boy's face. "Are you sure?"
Shikamaru nodded.
"All right. Stay here. Dismiss the class when they arrive, and then catch up."
"But where will you be?" Shikamaru asked, following on his heels.
"I'm going to tell--" Iruka paused. He didn't want to go straight to Tsunade without checking first--if it was a false alarm, and Ibiki was just practicing a new way to screw with people, Tsunade would be very annoyed. But Iruka wanted someone strong enough that he wouldn't be crushed by any Jounin he might encounter. "Genma," he said. Then he strode quickly out the doors, leaving the young Chuunin behind.
**
Okay, Ibiki was fucked up. Not him, personally, the other Ibiki. The asshole. Yup, that was what Ibiki was calling him from now on. The Asshole. The Asshole was fucked up. Bad enough that he had detailed, detailed notes on the breakdown of someone Ibiki considered a friend. He had detailed notes on how he'd refused said friend the proper medical attention because he thought the chakra patterns were interesting.
It was written in the margins that way. "Interesting." Poor fucking Raidou. He put down that book and picked up another.
Nope, more shit about Raidou, try again.
Oh, this one was on memory-wiping techniques. He had different techniques. Interesting. He stuffed that into the duffel bag, along with a few choice others.
Treat it like a recon mission. In, out, gone. He was going to fill this duffel bag with whatever was interesting, possibly steal this sword because it was cool, then go to Kakashi's apartment and see if he could get back through that mirror without anybody oh, say, capturing him and throwing him into prison as a traitor.
Then someone *else* knocked at his door. For a heartless bastard, The Asshole had a lot of visitors. Maybe if he just opened the door and growled at them--did The Asshole growl? He looked at the mirror and practiced a growl. No, he wasn't going to be caught doing that.
"Ibiki!" Genma shouted through the wood.
He settled for looking as stern and serious as he could, putting on his best "I will eat your children dead" gaze. He opened the door. Then he had to suppress the normal reaction he had to Genma, which was to reach out and ruffle his hair.
Genma leaned against the frame, looking vaguely belligerent, senbon sticking out of one corner of his mouth.
Damn, Ibiki wished the illusion took care of the draft in this stupid jacket. He really should have tried to find a pair of pants in his free time.
Ibiki knew this other Ibiki had fucked up Genma's lover, and therefore Genma probably wasn't his friend in this world. Good. He had *something* to go on, other than 'asshole.'
"Soooooooo . . ." Genma glanced over at Iruka, standing slightly away. "I hear you're not feeling well this morning?"
"Shikamaru was a bit worried," Iruka jumped in. "Said you looked, ah, pale."
Hmm, list of possible answers included, "Shikamaru's an idiot," "Why the fuck can't he mind his own business," or just standing back and shutting his door in their faces. He kinda liked that last one. It was elegant, and he couldn't possibly put his foot in his mouth if he kept his mouth shut.
As the door started to close, Genma's boot stuffed itself between door and frame.
Ibiki's choices were: A, step on the foot, or B, kick the door. He decided to grind his heel into Genma's toes.
Genma, remarkably, stepped away. The door closed.
**
Ibiki, now fully clothed--this world's Ibiki didn't have nearly as many places to tuck drugs and weapons in his clothing--rifled through Tower files in the early morning quiet. Hopefully, he could get this done and gone without anyone the wiser.
Anyone but the fellows in the morgue, who he'd had to knock unconscious to get at the files of who had died.
"What, exactly, are you doing?"
Ibiki didn't turn at Tsunade's voice. "Just patching some holes in my notes," he said easily, the lie springing to mind.
"With restricted files?"
He paused. This Ibiki didn't have access to everything? What sort of fucked up world *was* this? He turned and tried a smile. "I'm sorry. Shizune gave me clearance last week. I'd assumed she talked to you . . .?" He feigned faint disapproval.
Tsunade punched him in his lying face. Very hard, and very quick. He didn't see it coming although he was aware that was what must have happened when he realized he was flying through the air, and bouncing off the wall, before falling into the inky arms of oblivion.
**
Ibiki had had a feeling that he should cut his escapade short. This was compounded by the fact that he was fairly certain he could feel a decent number of people likely to be able to kick his ass coming this way. So he found real clothes as quickly as he could, grabbed the files he wanted to take, and tossed the ones he didn't think anyone should have into the oven before turning it on.
Then he left out the bedroom window in a hurry. He kicked off the far wall, right above the window, and took off across the roof toward where he thought Kakashi's apartment should be.
And it wasn't there.
Cursing, he started rifling through notes in search of a map.
"Hey." Asuma dropped beside him and smiled, lighting a cigarette. "Help you?" He glanced up, then, in an obvious gesture, over Ibiki's shoulder to the roof beyond. "And that help should probably be in the form of slow movement, where we can see your hands." He smiled happily. "Raidou's a little trigger happy."
Ibiki slapped together seals and vanished, leaving a log covered in vials in his place. He really hoped at least some of them were antidotes--none were labeled. Ibiki settled for distance, for now. He could figure out where Kakashi was later.
Crap. Crap. Crappy crap. He really didn't want to be killed by someone who looked like one of his friends. Actually, he really didn't want to be killed by someone who looked like one of his enemies. In fact, living in general seemed like the better option.
The nice thing about henges was that you could literally be anyone. Even a small, waif-like child. Although cramming yourself into the shape of a small, waif-like child was rather painful when you were, in fact, almost seven feet tall. He looked as studious as he possibly could, running with his small pail, hoping he was cute enough. He hadn't had to focus on cute in a while.
Hopefully, between that and the four shadow-clones, he'd have at least five minutes before they figured it out.
Okay. Probably three. Crap. Where the hell did Kakashi live?
He had no idea--but maybe the Irukas lived in the same place. He bolted for Iruka's apartment, raced inside the building, up the stairs--and he could *sense* this Raidou closing on him already, damn it. He really didn't want to fight with this Raidou. Mostly because his Raidou was pretty damn good, and this Raidou was pretty damn motivated to kick the crap out of somebody with his face.
He wondered if it would be worth the time to trap the door, and decided not to. He reached it just as it opened, Genma came through the window at the end of the hall, and Raidou appeared behind him.
Kakashi, standing in the doorway, smiled cheerfully.
Maybe he should have ditched the heavy booksack.
"I need to use your bathroom," was all he could think of to say.
Kakashi barked a laugh.
"Okay, look," Genma said from the end of the hall, "you want to tell us what's going on? Raidou!" he barked, and the intent from that end of the hall subsided a little.
"I was just gonna *knick* him," Raidou muttered unhappily.
"You're strong, but you're not that fast," Ibiki said automatically.
Genma sighed. Kakashi's cheery smile got somehow sharper--even though only one eye was showing--and Raidou began to move forward.
Everyone hated him here. And Ibiki knew *why* everyone hated him here. Hell, he hated him here.
Ibiki looked straight at Kakashi and finally said, "The only thing I ever did was to break your nose on your fucking mirror, now let me go home. Oh and I kicked you in the tailbone," he added as an afterthought. "I still maintain you deserve that."
Kakashi's smile faded a little. "Well, then he *is* the other Ibiki." But he still hadn't moved out of the doorway.
"Can't I hurt him just a *little*?" Raidou pleaded.
Genma glared around Ibiki's head.
"Leave the bag," Kakashi said after a minute. "Nice try, though," he added.
"You think he's not doing the same to me?"
"I think," Kakashi said helpfully, "that it doesn't really matter. This is my mirror, and you aren't coming in until you leave that bag. He could be kidnapping your favorite puppy for all I care, and you're *still* not taking that bag."
Ibiki began to plot. According to the notes he'd read, Genma was traumatized by the thought of cannibalism and Raidou by Ibiki himself . . . maybe if he made a flaming illusion of himself running toward Raidou, and Genma an illusion of watching himself eat people, all he'd have to deal with was Kakashi. He thought the bookbag might go through the mirror without needing a switch. He wasn't sure, though.
Damn. He should have just not answered the door that morning. Who the hell had people show up at five a.m. anyhow? No one thought clearly at five a.m.!
"Bag," Kakashi said sharply.
Maybe he could replace it with something else that looked like a bag. If he folded up his jacket--
"ANBU are here," Genma announced from the window. "I could just let *them* in . . ."
"Oh, please do," Raidou said.
"Oh, hey, that cute one's here," Genma added, leaning partway out.
Ibiki was vaguely offended that this Raidou had it out for him. He threw the bookbag at Genma, and hoped he fell out.
Genma caught the bag solidly without bothering to look.
Ibiki consoled himself with the thought that he'd managed to sneak the journal filled with instructions on how to mind-wipe people into his jacket. Really, that was the best thing there--the rest were just nice ideas.
Still, Kakashi hesitated.
"Let him through," Genma said. "And we can get our Ibiki back."
"Wait, let's think this through," Raidou said quietly. "I mean, this guy's kind of an ass, but he's not *that* big an ass. Maybe we can just keep him, and they can *have* our Ibiki. Wouldn't that work out better for everyone?"
Kakashi looked thoughtful. "Well . . ."
"You know, I'm a kind and compassionate person to my comrades because they're my comrades, but I do not * know* you people," Ibiki pointed out blandly. "If I’m being kept here against my will, you can bet that I'll do my best to be as bad, if not worse, as the asshole you're trying to replace."
"I don't think that's possible, you know," Genma said conversationally.
"I can try."
"Having *no* Ibiki might be better than having ours," Raidou said, still hopeful.
"Who'd run the interrogation department?" Genma asked.
"Orochimaru?" Raidou suggested cheekily. "He's gotta be warmer and fuzzier than Ibiki!"
Kakashi snorted. "You obviously have never met him," he said dryly, and finally--finally!--stepped aside. "Bathroom's that way. Don't touch anything. Take your shoes off. Don't *touch*--"
Ibiki ignored him and walked in anyway. He really hoped he'd stepped in dog crap at some point. He was fairly certain he hadn't, but there was always that chance--
Then Kakashi caught him by the back of his jacket and hauled Ibiki back out. "Shoes. OFF."
Ibiki yanked his shoes off, then went through to the bathroom. In the mirror Ibiki could see Iruka and Kakashi leaning against the wall. Both straightened when Ibiki walked in.
"Where the hell have you been?" they shouted soundlessly.
"Over here," Ibiki pointed out.
"Well, no duh," Iruka said.
"Can we please just switch back?" the Kakashi next to him snapped.
Iruka and Kakashi leaned back and looked out the bathroom door. "Ibiki's . . . busy . . . right now. We'll go get him for you," Iruka said, and vanished out the door. He returned a moment later, a bound Ibiki in tow.
"I hate this part," Kakashi muttered unhappily. "The sinks are never the same. Boots and feet and *skin oils*--"
The Ibikis switched. Kakashi blinked and looked at his bound Ibiki. "Why do you smell like strawberries?"
"What's that?" Ibiki asked calmly. "You needed a psych evaluation now? I'm sure I have an appointment free--"
Kakashi lifted both hands and stepped away. "I didn't--" then he stared in horror as Ibiki kicked out with a booted foot and shattered the mirror.
There were glass shards all over his floor. In the carpet. Down the drain. "What is *wrong* with you?" He nearly shouted--except Kakashi didn't shout.
Ibiki just shrugged. "Open portal. Acting oddly. Obviously, I couldn't leave it *there.*" Then, as if his arms weren't bound and he didn't smell like strawberries, he walked calmly from the room.
He had to go write down everything he remembered.
**
Ibiki really, really needed a drink, and a cigarette, and to talk to Amiri.
He headed to her work, only to find out she wasn’t there. In fact, hadn't shown up that day. And--fuck.
Ohhhh, crap. He went back to Kakashi's place.
"I need to borrow some of your tracking dogs," he said when Kakashi had opened the door.
"Sure," Kakashi said easily. "What'd you loose?"
"Uh, I can't find Amiri," he said.
"Oh. Crap," Kakashi said. "That's not good. How many do you need?"
"Whichever one's best at tracking. I know where she was last night."
"That's more than I actually need to know about your life, Ibiki."
"Yeah, well I know more about yours than I care to know about, so now we're even," he said grouchily.
They found her in the attic. She was not happy. But, hey, she'd had airholes.
The end
Momo would like everyone to know that sheets are not a useless necessity. She then goes on to complain about dust mites. I'm just not writing all that out, though. Trust me, it's funny.
If you haven't already, it would be wise to read the previous volumes:
Volume 1
Volume 2
Volume 3, chapter 1, Chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, Epilogue
Bonus Volume, Bow Chicka Bow Wooooow
Volume 4
Given that this is a crossover between JBMcDragon's The Kakashi Mission world (this is set after the sequel, Former Lives) and
messypeaches's Side Effects world (link found on Volume 1 of The Bathroom Mirror fics, and it's completely and TOTALLY different from ChibiRisu-Chan's mpreg Side Effects), you might want to read those, too. Just a thought.JB
Extra note, added much later: The comments section is now rated NC-17. You've been warned. *cracks up*
J
The Great Bathroom Mirror Escapades Vol. 5
In Which No Ibiki, Anywhere, Gets Any Respect
JBMcDragon and MessyPeaches
Someone was whistling. Given that no one whistled in his vicinity, ever--unless it was a signal-whistle--it was unusual enough. Given that this particular whistling was feminine--he could tell from the timbre--and accompanied by the sound of a shower, it was more unusual.
Ibiki woke up.
The sheets were cream. He didn't *have* sheets. They were a useless necessity.
He let his chakra spread throughout the room, found no other living humans except the one in the shower, then rolled up to his feet.
No weapon under the pillow, either. Whatever bed he was in, they were obviously unprepared. He was, however, naked. He glanced around for clothes, decided it didn't matter, and eyeballed the room.
Just one bed, and a low dresser cluttered with knickknacks. He plucked up what was obviously a weapons pouch and glanced through it quickly, pulling out kunai and sedative tags, but leaving the first aid equipment.
His vest was laid out over a chair, but a quick glance confirmed that it wasn't *quite* his. He left it.
The shower turned off. He slipped quietly to the door and stood there, dead silent, waiting. It opened after a moment, and he didn't bother pausing to see who it was. This wasn't his apartment, and he wasn't sure what was going on, and therefore this was an enemy. Asking questions came after securing the area.
He slapped her--that it was a woman was obvious--with a sedative tag. She dropped. He nudged her with a foot, rolling her over, ignoring the towel. He kept the kunai ready, but she didn't move on her own.
He recognized her, though. After a moment he knelt, peering at her face, trying to remember. He was *good* with faces, damnit.
Amiri. Ibiki humphed. There was no Amiri in his world. Which meant--
He looked around again, sharply this time. This was *perfect.*
**
Something had gone terrible wrong with Amiri's sheets. Mostly they seemed to have vanished, and he was lying on a rather musty mattress. He opened his eyes and looked at the coarse fabric sullenly. Why was it not nice sheets? Crap. This would mean he'd have to wake all the way up. He didn't really want to wake all the way up. He'd gotten used to sort of half-sleeping through when she left.
But she usually didn't steal the sheets. Well, not the one under him. And shouldn't there be a mattress pad or something? He sat up, looked around, and felt a deep and immediate level of concern that he was not entirely comfortable feeling this early in the morning.
He got to his feet, wrapping the comforter around his waist because at the moment it was the safest bit of covering there. It looked like a shinobi's apartment, he thought, looking around. It certainly didn't look like the sort of place one tossed a captured shinobi into. The weapons on the wall really tipped him off about that.
He pulled a rather nasty-looking katana from its display sheath, made sure it was an actual blade and not a crappy piece of art, and immediately felt better.
He checked the window--had a lovely view of a brick wall--no clean line of sights from any decent areas to stand and shoot, so he probably wouldn't be attacked through here.
A knock shuffled softly through the apartment, and Ibiki grabbed the long jacket hanging from a hook and added an illusion so it looked like he was wearing something under it, rather than looking like a creepy flasher. Just creepy was enough for most days, thank you. Then, with a glance at the clock--five a.m.--he opened the door.
Shikamaru stood there, looking annoyed and sheepish all rolled into one, staring at his toes. "I have the report," he mumbled unhappily, and thrust a handful of crinkled pages at him. "You know," he added in a hurried undertone, "I really don't think Iruka needs me there anymore. I mean, he hasn't had *any* panic attacks in a week, and he says the nightmares are almost gone . . ."
Ibiki skimmed the notes as quickly as he possibly could. It looked like a daily report. Had he been turning these reports in every day? At five a.m.? He couldn’t do it after school? What sort of idiot ran this operation? Oh, wait, apparently him. Or other-him. Okay, at least he knew where he was now.
"You know, you should really turn your reports in in slightly better condition than this," he said after a moment, looking at the tattered edges. "Iron them or something . . . Shit like this is hard to file."
Shikamaru lifted one shoulder. "I know, I know . . ." he mumbled. Then sighed.
"Give it another week and then you can stop," Ibiki said. If there hadn't been panic attacks for a week, after two it'd be safe. One week there was still room for backsliding, but . . .
Shikamaru's dark eyes shot upward suspiciously. "What?"
"You've been watching him, do you think he's stable enough?"
The gaze grew more suspicious. "Well, yeah . . ."
*Ah, crap, what did I do?* Ibiki thought. "Then why are you still here?" There. That was kind of . . . abrupt. Most people didn't bother him after he'd used that tone of voice. At least not for a few minutes, unless they were particularly outraged, in which case he got to ignore them.
Shikamaru took a cautious step back. Then another. Still watching.
"Have a nice day," Ibiki said automatically, and shut the door. He heard the pitter patter of running feet a moment later. *Okay, I know where I am now,* Ibiki thought to himself, looking around. *Step one: ransack the place.*
**
Ibiki finished tying off Amiri's fingers, stuffed her in the box he'd found in the attic, and buried it under several other boxes. After a moment's hesitation, he poked air holes.
He was pretty sure, by her widened eyes alone, that she'd realized he wasn't her Ibiki. She'd said something about scars just before he'd gagged her.
He wandered back down the stairs, still not bothering with clothes. He had more important things to do--like ransack the place.
There were far too many knickknacks--little figures of animals and tiny people all clustered onto a shelf. The rest of the house looked like a normal person's house, filled with things he never bothered with.
There weren't enough notes. A quick run through the drawers and cabinets convinced him that this Ibiki didn't keep the majority of his notes here--or he didn't keep notes at all. That thought was appalling.
He supposed a trip into the village was necessary. He began to look for clothing. He wanted records of everyone living--and dead--first off. This trip was going to be profitable.
**
Shikamaru got to the school out of breath, having sprinted halfway across the village. Bursting through the door he spotted Iruka putting files away in his desk, and raced over to plant his hands on the desk. "Iruka!" he gasped.
Iruka's head jerked up. He'd never seen Shikamaru go to so much effort over something. "What's wrong?"
"Ibiki--I was turning in reports--" he flushed a dull pink. "For, uh, a mission--"
"Me," Iruka said plainly. The flush darkened. "All right, forget the apologies and uncomfortable bits, Shikamaru. What's wrong?"
Shikamaru squirmed for a moment, then said, "Ibiki asked my *opinion.* And told me to have a nice day!"
Iruka frowned. "He was mocking you," he said, and went back to his filing.
"No!" Shikamaru yanked the file away, determined. "He smiled! And it was *friendly!*"
Iruka looked at him, studying the boy's face. "Are you sure?"
Shikamaru nodded.
"All right. Stay here. Dismiss the class when they arrive, and then catch up."
"But where will you be?" Shikamaru asked, following on his heels.
"I'm going to tell--" Iruka paused. He didn't want to go straight to Tsunade without checking first--if it was a false alarm, and Ibiki was just practicing a new way to screw with people, Tsunade would be very annoyed. But Iruka wanted someone strong enough that he wouldn't be crushed by any Jounin he might encounter. "Genma," he said. Then he strode quickly out the doors, leaving the young Chuunin behind.
**
Okay, Ibiki was fucked up. Not him, personally, the other Ibiki. The asshole. Yup, that was what Ibiki was calling him from now on. The Asshole. The Asshole was fucked up. Bad enough that he had detailed, detailed notes on the breakdown of someone Ibiki considered a friend. He had detailed notes on how he'd refused said friend the proper medical attention because he thought the chakra patterns were interesting.
It was written in the margins that way. "Interesting." Poor fucking Raidou. He put down that book and picked up another.
Nope, more shit about Raidou, try again.
Oh, this one was on memory-wiping techniques. He had different techniques. Interesting. He stuffed that into the duffel bag, along with a few choice others.
Treat it like a recon mission. In, out, gone. He was going to fill this duffel bag with whatever was interesting, possibly steal this sword because it was cool, then go to Kakashi's apartment and see if he could get back through that mirror without anybody oh, say, capturing him and throwing him into prison as a traitor.
Then someone *else* knocked at his door. For a heartless bastard, The Asshole had a lot of visitors. Maybe if he just opened the door and growled at them--did The Asshole growl? He looked at the mirror and practiced a growl. No, he wasn't going to be caught doing that.
"Ibiki!" Genma shouted through the wood.
He settled for looking as stern and serious as he could, putting on his best "I will eat your children dead" gaze. He opened the door. Then he had to suppress the normal reaction he had to Genma, which was to reach out and ruffle his hair.
Genma leaned against the frame, looking vaguely belligerent, senbon sticking out of one corner of his mouth.
Damn, Ibiki wished the illusion took care of the draft in this stupid jacket. He really should have tried to find a pair of pants in his free time.
Ibiki knew this other Ibiki had fucked up Genma's lover, and therefore Genma probably wasn't his friend in this world. Good. He had *something* to go on, other than 'asshole.'
"Soooooooo . . ." Genma glanced over at Iruka, standing slightly away. "I hear you're not feeling well this morning?"
"Shikamaru was a bit worried," Iruka jumped in. "Said you looked, ah, pale."
Hmm, list of possible answers included, "Shikamaru's an idiot," "Why the fuck can't he mind his own business," or just standing back and shutting his door in their faces. He kinda liked that last one. It was elegant, and he couldn't possibly put his foot in his mouth if he kept his mouth shut.
As the door started to close, Genma's boot stuffed itself between door and frame.
Ibiki's choices were: A, step on the foot, or B, kick the door. He decided to grind his heel into Genma's toes.
Genma, remarkably, stepped away. The door closed.
**
Ibiki, now fully clothed--this world's Ibiki didn't have nearly as many places to tuck drugs and weapons in his clothing--rifled through Tower files in the early morning quiet. Hopefully, he could get this done and gone without anyone the wiser.
Anyone but the fellows in the morgue, who he'd had to knock unconscious to get at the files of who had died.
"What, exactly, are you doing?"
Ibiki didn't turn at Tsunade's voice. "Just patching some holes in my notes," he said easily, the lie springing to mind.
"With restricted files?"
He paused. This Ibiki didn't have access to everything? What sort of fucked up world *was* this? He turned and tried a smile. "I'm sorry. Shizune gave me clearance last week. I'd assumed she talked to you . . .?" He feigned faint disapproval.
Tsunade punched him in his lying face. Very hard, and very quick. He didn't see it coming although he was aware that was what must have happened when he realized he was flying through the air, and bouncing off the wall, before falling into the inky arms of oblivion.
**
Ibiki had had a feeling that he should cut his escapade short. This was compounded by the fact that he was fairly certain he could feel a decent number of people likely to be able to kick his ass coming this way. So he found real clothes as quickly as he could, grabbed the files he wanted to take, and tossed the ones he didn't think anyone should have into the oven before turning it on.
Then he left out the bedroom window in a hurry. He kicked off the far wall, right above the window, and took off across the roof toward where he thought Kakashi's apartment should be.
And it wasn't there.
Cursing, he started rifling through notes in search of a map.
"Hey." Asuma dropped beside him and smiled, lighting a cigarette. "Help you?" He glanced up, then, in an obvious gesture, over Ibiki's shoulder to the roof beyond. "And that help should probably be in the form of slow movement, where we can see your hands." He smiled happily. "Raidou's a little trigger happy."
Ibiki slapped together seals and vanished, leaving a log covered in vials in his place. He really hoped at least some of them were antidotes--none were labeled. Ibiki settled for distance, for now. He could figure out where Kakashi was later.
Crap. Crap. Crappy crap. He really didn't want to be killed by someone who looked like one of his friends. Actually, he really didn't want to be killed by someone who looked like one of his enemies. In fact, living in general seemed like the better option.
The nice thing about henges was that you could literally be anyone. Even a small, waif-like child. Although cramming yourself into the shape of a small, waif-like child was rather painful when you were, in fact, almost seven feet tall. He looked as studious as he possibly could, running with his small pail, hoping he was cute enough. He hadn't had to focus on cute in a while.
Hopefully, between that and the four shadow-clones, he'd have at least five minutes before they figured it out.
Okay. Probably three. Crap. Where the hell did Kakashi live?
He had no idea--but maybe the Irukas lived in the same place. He bolted for Iruka's apartment, raced inside the building, up the stairs--and he could *sense* this Raidou closing on him already, damn it. He really didn't want to fight with this Raidou. Mostly because his Raidou was pretty damn good, and this Raidou was pretty damn motivated to kick the crap out of somebody with his face.
He wondered if it would be worth the time to trap the door, and decided not to. He reached it just as it opened, Genma came through the window at the end of the hall, and Raidou appeared behind him.
Kakashi, standing in the doorway, smiled cheerfully.
Maybe he should have ditched the heavy booksack.
"I need to use your bathroom," was all he could think of to say.
Kakashi barked a laugh.
"Okay, look," Genma said from the end of the hall, "you want to tell us what's going on? Raidou!" he barked, and the intent from that end of the hall subsided a little.
"I was just gonna *knick* him," Raidou muttered unhappily.
"You're strong, but you're not that fast," Ibiki said automatically.
Genma sighed. Kakashi's cheery smile got somehow sharper--even though only one eye was showing--and Raidou began to move forward.
Everyone hated him here. And Ibiki knew *why* everyone hated him here. Hell, he hated him here.
Ibiki looked straight at Kakashi and finally said, "The only thing I ever did was to break your nose on your fucking mirror, now let me go home. Oh and I kicked you in the tailbone," he added as an afterthought. "I still maintain you deserve that."
Kakashi's smile faded a little. "Well, then he *is* the other Ibiki." But he still hadn't moved out of the doorway.
"Can't I hurt him just a *little*?" Raidou pleaded.
Genma glared around Ibiki's head.
"Leave the bag," Kakashi said after a minute. "Nice try, though," he added.
"You think he's not doing the same to me?"
"I think," Kakashi said helpfully, "that it doesn't really matter. This is my mirror, and you aren't coming in until you leave that bag. He could be kidnapping your favorite puppy for all I care, and you're *still* not taking that bag."
Ibiki began to plot. According to the notes he'd read, Genma was traumatized by the thought of cannibalism and Raidou by Ibiki himself . . . maybe if he made a flaming illusion of himself running toward Raidou, and Genma an illusion of watching himself eat people, all he'd have to deal with was Kakashi. He thought the bookbag might go through the mirror without needing a switch. He wasn't sure, though.
Damn. He should have just not answered the door that morning. Who the hell had people show up at five a.m. anyhow? No one thought clearly at five a.m.!
"Bag," Kakashi said sharply.
Maybe he could replace it with something else that looked like a bag. If he folded up his jacket--
"ANBU are here," Genma announced from the window. "I could just let *them* in . . ."
"Oh, please do," Raidou said.
"Oh, hey, that cute one's here," Genma added, leaning partway out.
Ibiki was vaguely offended that this Raidou had it out for him. He threw the bookbag at Genma, and hoped he fell out.
Genma caught the bag solidly without bothering to look.
Ibiki consoled himself with the thought that he'd managed to sneak the journal filled with instructions on how to mind-wipe people into his jacket. Really, that was the best thing there--the rest were just nice ideas.
Still, Kakashi hesitated.
"Let him through," Genma said. "And we can get our Ibiki back."
"Wait, let's think this through," Raidou said quietly. "I mean, this guy's kind of an ass, but he's not *that* big an ass. Maybe we can just keep him, and they can *have* our Ibiki. Wouldn't that work out better for everyone?"
Kakashi looked thoughtful. "Well . . ."
"You know, I'm a kind and compassionate person to my comrades because they're my comrades, but I do not * know* you people," Ibiki pointed out blandly. "If I’m being kept here against my will, you can bet that I'll do my best to be as bad, if not worse, as the asshole you're trying to replace."
"I don't think that's possible, you know," Genma said conversationally.
"I can try."
"Having *no* Ibiki might be better than having ours," Raidou said, still hopeful.
"Who'd run the interrogation department?" Genma asked.
"Orochimaru?" Raidou suggested cheekily. "He's gotta be warmer and fuzzier than Ibiki!"
Kakashi snorted. "You obviously have never met him," he said dryly, and finally--finally!--stepped aside. "Bathroom's that way. Don't touch anything. Take your shoes off. Don't *touch*--"
Ibiki ignored him and walked in anyway. He really hoped he'd stepped in dog crap at some point. He was fairly certain he hadn't, but there was always that chance--
Then Kakashi caught him by the back of his jacket and hauled Ibiki back out. "Shoes. OFF."
Ibiki yanked his shoes off, then went through to the bathroom. In the mirror Ibiki could see Iruka and Kakashi leaning against the wall. Both straightened when Ibiki walked in.
"Where the hell have you been?" they shouted soundlessly.
"Over here," Ibiki pointed out.
"Well, no duh," Iruka said.
"Can we please just switch back?" the Kakashi next to him snapped.
Iruka and Kakashi leaned back and looked out the bathroom door. "Ibiki's . . . busy . . . right now. We'll go get him for you," Iruka said, and vanished out the door. He returned a moment later, a bound Ibiki in tow.
"I hate this part," Kakashi muttered unhappily. "The sinks are never the same. Boots and feet and *skin oils*--"
The Ibikis switched. Kakashi blinked and looked at his bound Ibiki. "Why do you smell like strawberries?"
"What's that?" Ibiki asked calmly. "You needed a psych evaluation now? I'm sure I have an appointment free--"
Kakashi lifted both hands and stepped away. "I didn't--" then he stared in horror as Ibiki kicked out with a booted foot and shattered the mirror.
There were glass shards all over his floor. In the carpet. Down the drain. "What is *wrong* with you?" He nearly shouted--except Kakashi didn't shout.
Ibiki just shrugged. "Open portal. Acting oddly. Obviously, I couldn't leave it *there.*" Then, as if his arms weren't bound and he didn't smell like strawberries, he walked calmly from the room.
He had to go write down everything he remembered.
**
Ibiki really, really needed a drink, and a cigarette, and to talk to Amiri.
He headed to her work, only to find out she wasn’t there. In fact, hadn't shown up that day. And--fuck.
Ohhhh, crap. He went back to Kakashi's place.
"I need to borrow some of your tracking dogs," he said when Kakashi had opened the door.
"Sure," Kakashi said easily. "What'd you loose?"
"Uh, I can't find Amiri," he said.
"Oh. Crap," Kakashi said. "That's not good. How many do you need?"
"Whichever one's best at tracking. I know where she was last night."
"That's more than I actually need to know about your life, Ibiki."
"Yeah, well I know more about yours than I care to know about, so now we're even," he said grouchily.
They found her in the attic. She was not happy. But, hey, she'd had airholes.
The end
Momo would like everyone to know that sheets are not a useless necessity. She then goes on to complain about dust mites. I'm just not writing all that out, though. Trust me, it's funny.
