Chapter Text
The Daimyo’s third cousin’s brother in law had spent the last half hour telling Neiji all about his concerns about lower order bloodlines contaminating the purity of Fire country aristocracy, and advocating for the enclosure of public waterways, the Daimyo’s third cousin’s brother in law’s much younger wife had spent the same half hour relentlessly and shamelessly sexually harassing Neiji right under her husband’s oblivious nose, and the Daimyo’s chief advisor’s uncle had just been sick in a flower pot right next to where Neiji was trapped in this discussion. The Daimyo’s half sister’s gigolo had stolen all the best canapes. Any minute now someone was going to try and make another speech.
Neiji hated rich people.
All of this was going in his newsletter, no mercy. These people didn’t deserve to keep their secrets.
If Asuma sensei wanted him to keep his mouth shut about the misdeeds of the rich and idle then he shouldn’t have left him unattended in favour of sneaking off with that Bad News Kunoichi.
Asuma sesei could talk about professionalism and client confidentiality as much as he liked, Neiji had a higher calling. The people deserved to know the Truth, and Neiji was ready and willing to give it to them. Especially if it gave him a chance to show up that hack Cicada.
He activated his Byakugan, confident that none of his current conversation partners would recognise it for what it was. As his field of vision expanded he noted at least five senior ministers having covert relations with their mistresses, a further three having covert relations with someone elses mistresses, and two mistresses having covert relations with each other. Actually, good for them on that last one, gods knew they had to put up with enough nonsense from their patrons, Neiji could respect the spite although their operational security left something to be desired.
He also noted at least ten people of varying social standing going through desks he was pretty sure they weren’t authorised to be going through, about twenty long suffering assistants that had sneaked off for a clandestine game of cards confident that their bosses were two busy seducing each other’s wives to miss them, and one fresh corpse propped up behind a curtain.
Wait a minute.
These parties might be murder, but that didn’t usually mean literal murder, at least not right away. This was an event for deciding you wanted to murder someone, not for actually carrying out the deed. That would be uncivilised, and rude to the hosts. Rich people morality was unhinged but consistent.
Actual murders were to be carried out at official functions, in blatantly rigged duels or show trials, or in private, with the aid of trained professionals like ninja or hired thugs depending on available budget. Definitely not at intimite gatherings of a few hundred of the host’s closest sycophants plus assorted hangers on, and absolutely definitely not to be done personally. They weren’t peasants, if they wanted someone dead they hired people for that.
A thought occurred to Neiji, and he spent a moment panicking while he tried to figure out where the Bad News trio had gone. After all, it was pretty clear they were terribly trained for social situations, and very well trained for murder. If they’d killed someone in a fit of social anxiety he’d had about five minutes to cover it up if he wanted to avoid major social embarrassment. He didn’t think they’d be that sloppy, but everyone had off days, better safe than sorry.
Luckily, they might be awkward and vaguely creepy, but they were efficient. It only took a hand signal to call one of them to his side.
“Tell me none of you killed anyone.”
“We didn’t kill anyone sir.” The blonde one said. “We’ve been occupied with a covert retrieval mission. Why? Should we have killed someone?”
“No you definitely shouldn’t have.” Neiji didn’t sigh in relief, but it was a close run thing. Then he thought about it more. “What covert mission?” He asked suspiciously.
“Aquistion of the birthday cake was successful. We have it stashed in the rafters for later retrieval.” The cake in question was a fifteen-tiered icing and fruit laden monstrosity, and the image of it balanced precariously in the rafters was mildly alarming but, well there were worse things they could have been doing as the corpse by the window proved. Neiji decided to let it go.
“There’s a corpse over behind that curtain.” He explained. “I just needed to check I didn’t need to cover it up.”
“Sir.” Bad News Yamanaka, said, looking more than a little offended. “We would never leave a corpse somewhere that sloppy. That’s just unprofesional.”
“Fair enough. And stop calling me sir, you’re missing nin you don’t have superior officers anymore.”
“Alright boss. So what do you want us to do now?” Neiji thought about it. On the one hand this wasn’t really his business, and Asuma sensei would probably tell him to leave well enough alone.
On the other hand, if it bleeds it leads, the only thing his readers liked better than a sex scandal was an horrible murder. This was the best scoop he’d had in weeks. Cicada could eat his heart out, gangland murders were dime a dozen, how often did people get to hear about important people being messily murdered in the middle of a crowded party.
Even better he had minions now. Or no, minions wasn’t the right word, not quite, not for a respected member of the fourth estate. He thought about it for a moment, ah yes, interns, that was the word he was looking for. He had interns to do his bidding now.
“Tell Aburame to bug anyone who’s been near the murder scene in the last half hour then get up into the rafters and watch the reactions of the crowd when the corpse is revealed. And tell Akimichi to get me a coffee.” It was going to be a long night, but if his gut was right this would be the story of the month.
“Yes chief.”
...
“Yes what.” Tobirama snapped, as he sensed an intent presence approaching from behind. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a breakthrough here.”
Confusion replaced intent, and Tobirama turned to see what the minion wanted.
It… wasn’t a minion. At least he didn’t think it was. He was pretty sure he’d have known if Orochimaru had any Uzumaki minions on site and that was definitely an Uzumaki, red hair and all.
“Senju Tobirama?” The Uzumaki squeaked in a combination of panic and glee. “I thought you were dead?”
“Oh I was. Orochimaru and Kabuto developed an experimental process to raise the dead. It only works on individuals with a certain level of chakra reserves so far though. We aren’t sure why.”
“Have you considered the reality warping nature of high chakra reserves as a contributing factor.” The Uzumaki asked before clapping her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I know no-one cares about my ramblings.”
Well that wouldn’t do. Whoever the Uzumaki was working for was clearly stifling her natural scientific curiousity, and he had been missing having students.
“No no, carry on, I’m interested to hear your theory. You know you should really consider ditching your current village if they don’t properly appreciate your inquiring spirit.” Tobirama assured her, before adding, casually. “Who is your current village by the way?”
“Grass. And you’re right, they don’t appreciate me.” The Uzumaki said, in the vindicated tones of someone finally saying out loud something they had been privately thinking for a while. “They didn’t even give me any proper backup for this mission. I’m supposed to steal Orochimaru’s research with just Yuko to help. Yuko doesn’t even know what the scientific method is, and she’s rude when I try to explain it.” Tobirama gave her his full attention for a moment. She was a very small Uzumaki, small and angry and adorably curious.
“Yeah no. You’re mine now. That’s the proper procedure these days isn’t it. I’m adopting you, your current adults don’t deserve you and I’ve been wanting a lab partner.” Tobirama decided.
“Really. And the mingled hope and delight in her eyes was really something to see.” He had to admit, he’d had his doubts but the modern jounin might be onto something with their abduction habits.
“Yep. Now tell me, where is this Yuko?” After all. It didn’t do to leave loose ends.
…
Kiba sniffed the air suspiciously, the puppy on his shoulder mimicking his actions right down to the scrunched up little nose. It was kind of adorable. Anko had the best taste in stolen little siblings.
“Anko nee chan.” He said. “Why are there ninja scouting out our target?” Anko squinted in the direction he indicated. He was right there were ninja over there, right outside tonight’s target. In fact, the taller one looked kind of familiar…
“Son of a bitch.” Anko swore. “What the hell is that goody two shoes doing out here? He can’t have abandoned the village, surely.” But there was a tiny little Aburame, too small to be legitimately out of the village standing next to him, and a deep line scored through his forehead protector, and the vaguely scruffy look that all missing nin started to develop while they were figuring out how to do laundry without access to the village uniform cleaning services “no stain too unmentionable”. That was always a steep learning curve. Not as bad as the one for filling in your own visa paperwork, but still pretty bad.
In any case the signs were all there. Her arch nemesis had followed her into exile.
Fuck, a thought occurred. Had Ebisu gone missing nin solely for the opportunity to ruin her fun. No, calm down Anko, this could all be a coincidence. He could have gone missing nin for entirely different reasons, it was all the rage these days. He’d stolen a kid and everything, maybe he was just desperate for the chance to explore his inner free spirit.
He could theoretically be scouting out her target for purposes completely unrelated to the taunt she’d got little Kiba to spray paint over the entrance to the guard house. There was absolutely no reason to jump to conclusions, maybe he just wanted to catch up, with no settling of old scores involved.
She sneaked in closer trying to eavesdrop on the conversation Ebisu was having with the local guard.
“And the important thing you have to remember about the Surprising Serpent is that the thing she wants most is a reaction. If you stay steady, and don’t flinch she becomes angry and makes mistakes and then…” He smiled sharp and predatory, “That’s when we strike. We will thwart her every plot and scheme and she will learn to dread the name of The Educator and his adorable sidekick the Entymologist.”
“Son of a bitch.” Anko managed to hold back her response until after she’d shunshined away with her sidekick. “Motherfucker thinks he can take me down does he.” There was only one possible way to respond to this.
Escalate.
“Disaster Dog.” She declared, Kiba’s ears pricking up at the determination in her tone. He knew when chaos was afoot. She’d trained him well, and Disaster Dog was a much cooler name than the Entymologist anyway, who even knew what that meant. She was still the superior kidnapper. “We’re going back to the drawing board. A challenge has been issued, and we will not lose.”