Takuma sat on the roof of his house, staring at the night sky with a smoking joint in his hand. The exchange with Sasuke went better than expected, but it had also dredged up a variety of thoughts.
Frankly, he had lost track of where he was in the point in time. Sasuke suffering from graduation anxieties meant that canon was upon them. In a few weeks, a new academy class—a very important one—would graduate to become shinobi, triggering the first domino in a series of events that would define the decade if not the century.
Ever since his ANBU lieutenant promotion, he hadn’t thought about his position in the world. Unless he ascended to jōnin, he was in the best position he could be, and yet, the discomfort in his depths hadn’t disappeared. He had just gotten better at keeping himself busy, so it didn’t surface as often.
He was now at the crossroads. He had to decide how he wanted to approach the future. He knew things that gave him an advantage that he could use to protect those he loved. Simultaneously, he was deeply worried whether that knowledge was worth as much as he believed it to be. His involvement, direct or indirect, had already brought about changes. On the Uchiha side, the clan stood strong, Sasuke wasn’t obsessed with revenge, and Itachi was still with the Hidden Leaf. On the village front, ROOT was defunct, and Shimura Danzō was dead.
He had no idea the true extent of ripples he had caused through his actions.
He wasn’t scared of making changes; it was already too late for that fear. What he feared was making decisions based on his past-life knowledge. What if the ripples had already changed the situation, and his misinformed decisions caused more harm than good?
His position at ANBU certainly helped ease the edge of that persistent thought. He had access to information about what was happening in the world. He had done his best to keep a finger on the pulse of the important events.
If that was enough, he had no idea.
“What are you worried about now?”
Takuma glanced to his side and saw Grey sitting there. He returned his gaze to the star because Grey could only see what he was seeing in the moment, and something told him that his monotone friend wanted to indulge in the beauty of the stars, which was what they did in for a few minutes of silence before Grey spoke up.
“I thought the thing with Sasuke went well.”
“It did,” Takuma nodded, taking a drag.
“Then what’s the worry about?”
“About the future. Do you know that Sasuke has the jinchuriki in his class?” Takuma asked.
“What does that have to do with you? That’s not part of your responsibilities,” Grey said, pointedly. “Why can’t you just leave it be? Why must you go out of your way to involve yourself in things that have nothing to do with you?”
“No-no, it does have something to do with me,” Takuma argued, even though he knew that, without the context of his knowledge, Grey was right. “The children of a whopping seven clan heads—major ones at that—are graduating this year alongside the jinchuriki. I have to keep an eye on them in case a clan tries to pull the jinchuriki to their side.”
“Bullshit,” Grey said. “With how much animosity is attached to that brat, no clan’s going to risk touching him with a pole. And before you try to twist, kids can be friends without ulterior political motives.”
Takuma couldn’t argue against that. He could, but it would just devolve into a fight.
“You’re always so concerned with the future that you forget that the present is for the living.”
“This again,” Takuma sighed. “Haven’t I gotten better at it?”
“No, you haven’t. You’re just treating the symptom by adding more clones. The disease goes untreated. No one, and I mean, no one, needs that many clones.”
“You just came out to fight, huh?” Takuma said, feeling an irritation creep up.
“You know I’m right. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be feeling irritated.”
Takuma couldn’t take it anymore and slapped his hands together to disrupt his chakra. Grey vanished as the genjutsu he used to appear in his senses shattered. It was rude, but it was the only way to get away from someone you couldn’t walk away from. On the other hand, Grey could kick him out of his mindscape anytime he wanted.
Suddenly, the night sky and the stars lost their appeal.
He smoked on the roof until he felt himself settled; his consumption had been up over the past year. He slipped back into the house and had a bath to get rid of the smell, and then went to sleep. Fortunately, Maruboshi was asleep, or else he would’ve clocked that he was feeling bothered and invited him to talk about it.
Regardless of what Grey said, he didn’t have a choice.
———.
Katsuji Jiro’s eyes darted around the tiny grey interrogation room as he rubbed his thighs, unaware that his right leg was shaking like a jackhammer. He had been alone in the room for some time. He couldn’t tell; there was no clock in the room. In that time, he had asked for a glass of water thrice, but had been completely ignored.
“Hello, anyone?!”
When he got no response, he couldn’t contain himself and slammed his fist on the sheet metal table, which was the exact moment when the door swung open, and a man in a white porcelain mask with a bird motif painted on stepped into the room.
Jiro straightened up. Though a former shinobi, even he recognised ANBU. All the anger and frustration were momentarily suppressed as he froze and watched the masked man pour water into a small foam cup, which he then set in front of him.
The day had started fantastically as he took the family to the horse track to see a prime time event with big names and high-stakes races. They were invited to watch from the best seats in the stands, surrounded by people of class with good taste who could appreciate the finer things. Later on, he sent the kids and missus home so he and the boys could go have some fun. They spent an afternoon of fun with the pretty young ladies at the hostess club. He had left the club, feeling just the right amount of buzzed, when he was picked up by a group of masked men.
The buzz was gone, but the drinking had left him absolutely parched.
He immediately downed the glass of water, but it was so small that it only made him thirstier. The cold water bottle had condensation around it that dripped down onto the table. He asked for more.
“You can have all the water you want if you answer my questions,” said the masked man; he sounded younger than Jiro was expecting. “You work for your friends, am I right?”
“I’m the accountant.”
“You handle their money?”
“That’s what an accountant does.”
“Or are you helping them embezzle funds?”
Jiro stilled, unwilling to meet the eyes of the masked man, who filled out the foam glass and placed it in the middle of the table. He didn’t touch the glass; his thirst vanished in the storm in his mind. He had anticipated that’s why he had been pulled in for an interrogation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jiro said.
The masked man walked around the table and placed an open file in front of him. Jiro’s face immediately paled when he realised that he was seeing an account of his ill-got gains in the form of money in his wife’s name, land purchase done in cash, a list of his family members whom he had lent money for temporary safekeeping, and the tax records of his business that he used to convert dirty cash into clean assets.
It was all very cleanly laid out. They definitely knew what he had done.
Jiro didn’t say anything. He reached for the cup and downed the water. All they proved was that he hid wealth and owed taxes. They didn’t know where he had gotten the money from or what he had done to earn it. That was a bigger crime. As long as he kept his mouth shut, they would have no proof. His three business partner would definitely not open their mouths; they would be in so much more trouble than he if they did.
He relaxed because he knew the punishment. He would pay the fines and do the year or so in the slammer. In the meantime, the others would take care of his family. He had enough money that would keep his family comfortable for years to come.
He was fine.
“It’d be in your interest to cooperate, Mister Jiro.”
The masked ANBU waited for a response, and when he didn’t get one, he picked up the file and moved back to his side of the desk when a photograph slipped out of it. It landed on the desk upside down, but only for a moment, Jiro saw what was on the photograph while it was in the air, and he lunged at it, clutching it before the ANBU could retrieve it.
“Th-This—!”
Jiro’s eyes trembled as he saw a picture of his wife kissing a man he recognised. It was one of his three business partners. If that wasn’t enough, he recognised their clothes because they were wearing them today. The photograph could only have been taken in the past few hours since he had parted from his wife.
“This bitch! That bastard told me he had work!” Jiro saw red and almost tore the photograph apart.
“From what I understand, it’s a common rumour that many know…including your other friends,” the masked man said.
Jiro’s mind turned as humiliation and rage filled his skull. Suddenly, all he could think about were suspicious things that he had ignored or not noticed. His face was completely red as he realised that he was being cuckolded by his childhood friend, whom he had known for over twenty years, and that his other friends knew as well.
“I will cooperate, but I want a deal,” Jiro said—they always looked down on him just because he wasn’t a clan shinobi. He would show them that it was a mistake to mess with him.
“Of course, Mister Jiro. Give us what we want, and we’ll show great leniency.”
———.
“It’s done,” said Nenro, codenamed Osprey.
“That was quick,” Takuma looked impressed as he received a report on the findings from his interrogation of Katsuji Jiro. “Good job.”
“He has also agreed to turn over documents and paper trails that would clearly implicate the three clan shinobi in question. I have released him from our custody so the others won’t be suspicious. I have warned him to keep quiet about everything and emphasised that he’s not to confront his wife.”
“Ah, so that worked, huh. That was a great find. You did well to use it,” Takuma smiled.
Hippo was able to find dirt on Jiro and what he was doing with his “business partners”, but lacked the proof to nail the three clan shinobi. They would either have to confront the clans involved, which would be a lengthy process as they fought it out, or they could get the proof from Jiro. They went with the latter and turned the accountant against those whom he was protecting.
“Jiro’s friends embezzled money from their respective clans. He helped them by cooking the books so their clans wouldn’t notice, and then moved the money around so they could use it freely. In return, he got a cut of everything they made.” Nenro’s job was to bring in Jiro and convince him to turn on the others. The accountant was the small fish; Takuma wanted to get his hands on the clan shinobi. “What are we going to do now? Prosecute them for embezzlement, fine the clans for mismanagement of funds?”
Takuma shook his head. “No, I’ve something else in mind. The thing about these clan guys is that while they are fearful of the law, the thing that truly terrifies them is getting on the wrong side of their clan. So, let’s use that to our advantage.”
After Nenro left, there was a knock on the door, and one of Takuma’s secretaries stepped inside.
“Sir, the Lord Hokage has summoned you…”