A drink to death - (Patreon Contributor Omake #3)

Hoheto Hyuuga POV

It is hard to describe your own mood, at the moment. Of course you could simply say that it’s complex and leave it at that, but such a description would be the coward’s way out, not to mention that your beautiful beloved will likely not accept the word at face value. So, when Kurenai asks you how you’re feeling, you answer honestly.

“I do not know, my love.” You admit openly, meeting those beautiful red eyes of hers with your own, to your mind disconcerting, pair.

“Talk me through it, then.” Kurenai urges you softly, one hand reaching across the table and coming to rest on your own, her inclination towards matters of feeling and emotion significantly greater than your own.

The two of you are having an early dinner, following the proclamation of your (former) student’s ascension to Hokage-in-waiting. The house you so recently bought together isn’t quite fully decorated to your shared tastes yet, but the little table in the kitchen, meant precisely for moments like these when it’s just the two of you, already feels like home. Perhaps that’s why she’s chosen this moment to finally address a subject that, going by the way she’s been looking at you, has been on her mind for a few hours already at least.

Still, your love for Kurenai is great and although you don’t want to bring down her mood, hoping to avoid any and all undue strain for her, you know that refusing to engage with her on this matter will only have even more adverse effects. So, you merely offer a light, slightly strained, smile, before nodding.

“I am proud of Takeo,” you pronounce, drawing an amused smile from Kurenai as you start with a statement that is pointless in its obviousness, yet still you speak it, “I will forever be the former jonin-sensei to the Hokage whose reign I hope to live the rest of my life under. Perhaps I was not as much his sensei in the traditional sense as many other jonin-sensei, considering just how many other instructors contributed to making him into the force he is today, but he still started his journey under my tutelage. That is a pride, a pleasure, that, as a professional, I believe I’ve never experienced before.”

Kurenai merely offers a light squeeze of your hand, her smile kind as she silently urges you to continue.

“But knowing that Takeo has risen to such a station, knowing what level of threat he has faced and likely will still face, before this war ends… Almost losing Totagi due to my own inattentiveness was devastating to me. I struggled with the events of that mission for a long time. You know I did.” You offer next, Kurenai’s eyes softening in understanding as you do so. 

Though you have never woken up, beaded in sweat, since the two of you started sharing a bed, you did warn her of the possibility, back when your love first blossomed. 

“If something should happen to Takeo now, it will be by a danger that is beyond me. Which some part of me considers a comfort, knowing that he is beyond my responsibility, beyond my ability, to protect. Yet at the same time that awareness eats away at me, it is a double-sided relief that alleviates some of my fears, only to leave guilt in its stead.” You confess with a heavy heart, as putting the feelings within you into words untangles them to a point where you find yourself coming to a greater understanding of the ball of mixed emotions in your gut.

You pause for a moment, not yet ready to move on to the larger issue at hand, that which is truly responsible for what you can admit must have been an unpleasant mood on your end. Kurenai doesn’t push however, merely speaking up kindly, “That is a perfectly reasonable feeling to have, love. I’m sure that every sensei who sees their student surpass them feels like that to one extent or another.”

It’s obvious to you that Kurenai knows that you haven’t yet gotten to what is truly eating at you. Yet you hesitate. The matter of your own genin team is one you’d happily left in the past and, although Kurenai of course knows of its makeup, it is a topic you’ve always carefully circumvented whenever she has made some mention of or allusion to her own considerably more nostalgic past.

Now, however, with you both in the village, the confirmation of the traitor’s death and only this brief pause in the fighting to process everything that comes with the final conclusion to a chapter you’ve long been trying to ignore the existence of…

The words tumble out of your mouth in a rush, not unlike a dam breaking, “Sensei is dead.”

Kurenai does not audibly respond, merely holding your hand and looking at you understandingly. As such, the recrimination, that you still refer to that man as ‘sensei’ without hesitation, is a mental one alone, as you silently curse yourself for your weakness. Yet there is no judgement in Kurenai’s gaze and that, that makes all the difference, as, the dam now broken, words continue to pour out of you.

“Sensei is dead and I don’t know what to do with that. He betrayed the village, he betrayed everything we stand for. He turned Jun and his team to his purposes, he did unspeakable things to Anko, he is responsible for the deaths of countless Konoha-nin…” It all rushes out of you like the water Takeo is so closely affiliated with.

And yet, as the water rushes out, slowly, the depths become visible, your voice cracking slightly as you finally speak those treasonous words.

“… and he once promised to destroy the Caged Bird Seal once he became Hokage.”

Kurenai’s chair scrapes backwards, as she hurriedly stands up and moves to sit in your lap, her soft, warm body pressing against you as her arms wrap around you, “Oh, Hoheto-kun.”

Her voice is loving, encouraging and kind. Yet despite your momentary weakness, you do not break down any further, merely holding on to Kurenai like a port in a storm as you finally allow the treasonous thought that some part of you will mourn your sensei.

For a few minutes, silence reigns. When it breaks, it’s Kurenai who speaks up with words that briefly throw you for a loop with their simplicity. Yet as they sink in, the truth in them is apparent to you.

“Go and find Anko. Toast to him. Honor tradition. It will help you.”

It is a terrible idea. And yet…

It is one you will be carrying out.

Which is of course more easily said than done. 

Because you have no clue where to find Anko on this day.

With the vast majority of the troops who were on the Iwa-front returned to Konoha for a day which the vast majority is spending not getting drunk in bars, but with their families, whilst at the same time T&I’s dungeons have grown fat with prisoners of war, there’s a real chance that she’s working. In which case drawing her out for drinks may be a hard task indeed. On the other hand, there is every chance that she’s managed to secure a day off to prey on those returned shinobi (and kunoichi, knowing her tastes) who don’t have families and who are in fact raucously celebrating their day of freedom, before they must march to war once more.

And of course, all of that assumes that she’s in the village in the first place. Which you can’t be sure of. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t at the very least try. Because Kurenai is right. Now that she’s put the thought into words, there’s a sudden need in you. A need to toast to the death of your own former genin team and the man who led it.

You don’t rush, however. It would be in poor taste to rush through the village for personal purposes in the middle of a day of celebration held against the larger backdrop of an ongoing war. The sight of a rushing jonin will foul the celebratory mood of anyone with more than a mote of sense, after all. 

So, you offer Kurenai a kiss goodbye, before wandering out of your home and into the village. There’s a life in Konohagakure that’s been missing for the past few weeks. Brief as that time has been, compared to what you were expecting and what precedents all the prior wars may have established, it is still clear that the village has been starved for the presence of its shinobi. 

It’s visible in the way the villagers you pass seem to perk up when they cross your path. The slightly louder voices, the larger smiles, the audible whistling of a group of construction workers as they haul lumber to a build site, it all speaks to a sense of relief and comfort that only rises when it follows its opposites. Of course, you’re not able to enjoy the lively atmosphere, as you head towards T&I. 

There’s a chance Anko isn’t there, of course, but Ibiki’s control over her is impressive and with any intel from the captured Iwa-nin rapidly losing value following the annihilation of their… organization, it may well be all hands on deck to extract what actionable intelligence they know of, before it becomes moot forever. Viewed in that light, you may not even be able to draw her away from T&I today, which would throw quite a wrench into your plans. 

Though an intriguing solution presents itself to counteract that. You do have some fresh young genin who have a lot left to learn and Ibiki is sure to have more useless captives than he knows what to do with… That might well be enough to appease him.

You change course. You’ll need to make a few quick stops before heading for T&I.

It’s a detour that only ends up taking about half an hour, as you collect Ryuu and Gina with little trouble. Both come from civilian homes and as such this day, though it is a celebration, isn’t too special for them. Their parents have their daily duties to handle and although Ryuu’s younger sibling doesn’t have school, that is not so noteworthy an occurrence as for him to be upset at the prospect of an unplanned training excursion.

Tamotsu, however, is another matter.

Because Tamotsu, of course, is an Inuzuka. Which you knew, the moment you received word that you’d be taking on an Inuzuka, would at some point lead to frustration for you at some point. It appears that that point is today. Because when you arrive at the Inuzuka clan head’s massive home with Ryuu and Gina in tow, the sheer noise you can hear out on the street is enough to be discouraging.

Your assumption that the Inuzuka have gathered at their clan head’s home for celebrations is clearly correct, but you weren’t expecting them to be quite so raucous. Fortunately, unlike those unfortunate enough to need something from the Inuzuka today who are relegated to knocking on the front door and asking whoever opens for help, you have a Byakugan.

It is quick work to activate it and spot Tamotsu within the wild feast that is taking place within the Inuzuka’s home. Your face immediately falls into a disapproving frown, when you spot Tamotsu with a bottle of sake in hand. It’s still mostly full at least, and he is a genin, which puts the legality of his behavior out of doubt. But it’s the early afternoon!

With a few steps, you’re at the front door, knocking powerfully. At the same time, you pull off your headband and wad it into a tight ball. Knowing full well that the Inuzuka and their dogs can get quite caught up in their celebrations, you don’t hesitate to throw the ball of fabric and metal, which you know carries your scent strongly, over the gate and in Tamotsu’s general direction.

You don’t know how to feel about the fact that the presence of your scent within the area draws a significantly swifter response than your knocks at the gate, but the end result is the same, as ten minutes later, a soaking wet and bedraggled looking Tamotsu Inuzuka stands before you. Thanks to the Byakugan, you saw the desperate jump into a pond he subjected himself to in an attempt to rid himself of his mild inebriation, but you’re generous enough not to mention his state, as you merely lead your three genin towards T&I once more.

Ryuu and Gina can handle the needling in your place, something they immediately take up without you even needing to ask. It is lovely to have young genin again, you won’t lie.

Soon, you arrive at T&I, where Tamotsu’s nose - dango, sensei! - and your eyes confirm the same thing. Anko is in fact working today. 

You leave your genin in the lobby for a moment, before wandering deeper into the bowels of T&I’s main building. You know that they have a second, significantly more secure location within the Hokage Monument, but with just how flush they are with targets at the moment, it’s no surprise that they’re handling all the lesser targets, the ones that might actually break within hours, here. Besides, you’re willing to let your genin pick up some of the basics of T&I. They’re far too young to be subjected to the horrors of the higher tiers of… enhanced interrogation that go on at the other location.

The benefit of the Byakugan is that finding someone, when you have even a remote idea of their location, is very easy. As such, before you even head directly towards Anko, you find yourself entering a small office where Ibiki is watching a clearly cowed Iwa-nin - a low chunin, at a glance - as the young woman writes down everything she knows about the lay-out of Iwagakure. 

Useless information then, though you’re sure Ibiki has one purpose or another.

“Ibiki,” You greet him with a polite nod, before getting directly to the point, knowing full well that niceties are wasted on the man, “I have two requests to make.”

“I’m listening.” Ibiki says, not taking his eyes off of the chunin.

“I want you to let Anko off for the day. A member of the genin team we were both on has died, we should honor tradition whilst we’re both in Konoha.” You reply, deliberately keeping the exact identity of your former team member vague, even if it’ll only take Ibiki a handful of seconds to remember just who Anko's other genin team members were. 

The scarred man’s face remains perfectly neutral, as he placidly replies, “And the second request?”

“It is part request, part recompense for keeping Anko from her work,” You answer with your own characteristic calm, “I have three young genin who want to specialize in combat. I believe they could do with some practical experience in field-applicable T&I and I assume you have plenty of extraneous captives who won’t be too terribly missed if my genins’ youth and inexperience should cause them to expire.”

You deliberately remain perfectly neutral as you in so many words say that you want to let three baby torturers loose on any ‘useless’ POWs. It’s no surprise to see the chunin in front of Ibiki flinch for a moment, before she picks up the speed with which she’s writing and sketching noticeably.

“Fine,” Ibiki allows, “Anko’s wasted in these circumstances anyways. Leave your students in the lobby, I’ll arrange a proper introduction. Don’t expect to get them back before the end of the day.”

“That’s alright,” You allow with a grateful nod, “As long as they’re physically healthy by tomorrow morning’s training session, you have free reign. When you’re done with them, they can head straight home, I don’t need them to report back.”

“I’ll pass the message along.” Ibiki nods, causing you to turn and start walking towards the door, intent on collecting Anko. Before you can close the door, however, Ibiki speaks up once more, “Despite the circumstances, you have my sympathies, Hoheto. There is no shame in mourning the man he once was. I am sure you will not be the only one to do so.”

You don’t respond, seeing no point, merely briefly raising a hand in acknowledgement, before letting the door close behind you. Your mind is already on the real question, which is a far more significant one. 

How are you possibly going to convince Anko to come and toast to the death of your former sensei?

… Dumb question.

You gently open the door to the small cell in which Anko is clearly just wrapping up an interrogation of her own, a pitiful little genin sobbing her heart out as she looks at a picture of what you can immediately tell is a corpse.

Ideally, you’d come in dramatically announcing your presence and demanding that Anko drop everything to come get drunk, because that’s probably the best approach with Anko, but you’re not quite that cruel to the girl who probably just received confirmation of the death of a loved one. Instead, you merely wait quietly for Anko to notice your presence. 

Immediately, her expression sours, though she doesn’t immediately address you, instead turning her attention to the girl once more, “I’ll let you keep the picture, kid, but when I come back, which might be a few days, I expect you to be honest with me, alright? We have a lot of prisoners, and most of them have been lying professionally for longer than you’ve been alive, alright?”

She doesn’t get a response, the girl clearly too emotional to muster a proper response. Still, Anko seems content to leave it at that, as she stomps out of the cell ahead of you, only just waiting long enough for you to close the door behind you before she’s turning sharply on her heels to face you, a senbon clenched in her fist and pointing directly at your face.

Knowing full well that Anko is no threat to you at close range, at least not until she brings out snakes, you remain calm, answering her unspoken demand for an explanation with ease, “Sensei is dead. We should go and drink.”

Anko’s expression, already sour, pinches together in anger, “I’m not toasting that bastard.”

“I’m not asking you to, Anko,” You clarify, “I’m asking you to come drink with me, I don’t expect you to toast to him any more than I expect you to behave with even a modicum of decency when there’s alcohol involved.

Her expression remains stormy, making it clear that you’ll have to use the trump card you wish you’d had back when you were genin, “Kurenai suggested we do this.”

“Fine,” Anko huffs, clearly still mulish but also just as unwilling to reject a suggestion from Kurenai, “Let’s get drunk then. You can be responsible for ensuring I keep my clothes on once I have a few in me.”

You shrug, unbothered by the taunt, “As if that’s new.”

That finally gets a bark of laughter from the dangerous tokubetsu, “Ha! I love it when little Hoheto shows some bite! Alright! I’m in the mood for this now! By the way, what’s the situation with my future godchildren? Why’s there no babies yet?!”

You let out a sigh that is a warped, deeper sibling of the one you’d let out on a daily basis, back when you were genin. Rather than answering, you simply start leading the way to the nearest shinobi bar, leaving Anko to rant, rave and ramble for the entire ten minute walk.

As expected, by the time you’ve arrived, claimed a seat, two shot glasses and a bottle of something strong, she’s just about lost steam, for now.

“To still being alive.” You offer her, raising the first glass.

She obliges you by clinking the glasses together and answering in good chear, “Can’t argue that!” 

You rock back the first shot in a single, smooth go. Or at least Anko does. Because she’s an experienced regular drinker. You however, though you’ve had a few… experiences you’re not particularly proud of, are by no means a regular. Which means that though the chugging motion is smooth enough, the burning sensation that hits your throat and gut in short order is enough for your body to want to gag and cough at once, the resulting sound being less than dignifying, to Anko’s delight.

Before you even get a chance to defend yourself or to muster some measure of response, Anko is already refilling the glasses, with a cheer, “To Hoheto’s weak stomach!” 

You’re forced to follow her lead, the second drink by no means hitting any better than the first. Fortunately, you know Anko well enough to know that so long as you go tit-for-tat, she won’t try and skip your turn, which gives you a brief opportunity to catch your breath.

Slowly, you take the bottle from her once more, gradually filling the glasses as you speak, “We’re alive, I can’t match you for drinks and you’re mocking me. It’s good to see that some things haven’t changed, at least. Which reminds me, Anko, I never thanked you.”

Anko lifts an eyebrow in surprise, clearly aware that you’re trying to divert her attention from the booze for a minute or two at least. Still, she takes the bait, “You didn’t. Which is an outrage. Though to know how much of an outrage, you’ll have to clarify what you’re talking about.”

“Kurenai mentioned that you put in a good word for me, back before she and I started-” Is as far as you get, before Anko is turning red and interrupting you furiously.

“That bitch!” She snaps, clearly grievously insulted by Kurenai’s tattling.

“Don’t be like that,” You tease Anko, “I thought it was very on brand for you. How did Kurenai say you put it again? ‘Better my cold fish of a teammate than that walking chimney?’”

Anko snarls, not voicing a reply, instead, she merely gestures sharply to the glasses, “Toast, or I’m taking your turn.”

“To good teammates, who keep looking out for each other even years after they’ve last worked together.” You offer genuinely, not hiding your appreciation for the peculiar woman in front of you.

She’s never been good with praise. Or at least, not since falling for sensei’s praise led to her gaining the mark on her neck she continues to hide. Which is why you’re not surprised that, rather than accepting your toast verbally, she merely silently taps her glass against yours, before chugging it down.

You follow her lead, the drink’s burn not in any way lessened, but at least you’re better prepared for it now, allowing you to suppress your body’s reaction.

Anko enthusiastically grabs the bottle, hurriedly refilling both glasses, yet as she raises hers for a toast, you notice just a glimmer of hesitance in her eyes. You raise your own glass more deliberately, meeting Anko’s gaze and waiting calmly for her to find whatever words she’s looking for.

“To good teammates, who look out for each other and who don’t hold grudges over even the most terrible mistakes.” Anko finally forces out, with a voice that tells you that, were she not a trained kunoichi, her eyes would be wet with restrained tears right now.

“There is no grudge to be held, Anko.” You reply, assuring her in lieu of matching her toast as you clink your glasses together.

“Isn’t there?” Anko asks, frustration evident as she grabs for the bottle and starts filling the glasses once more. It isn’t her turn to fill them, but you somehow doubt that she’d be particularly receptive to you pointing that out just now.

“Of course not,” You insist, “Sens-”

Anko for a moment seems a lot more suited to being a cat summoner than a snake summoner, as your mere attempt to use the word ‘sensei’ for Orochimaru has her hair stand on end, a sharp hiss that is more cat than snake pouring out of her. Hurriedly, you cut yourself off, before rephrasing what you were about to say.

“Orochimaru had a way with words. I don’t know what he promised Jun, but it was clearly enough for him to betray us all for good, so that he could trail after him like a dog after its master. For me, he made the greatest promise he could have. To the boy I was then, at least. He promised to find a way to rid me of the Caged Bird Seal and, had he found one, I may well have fallen into his clutches forever as well. As it is, I think the only reason he didn’t try to lure me with him is that he knew that, as long as he couldn’t beat the seal, I’d be of no use to him. Yet, if he had asked me to join him in exchange for freedom… Well, it’s good that he didn’t.” You admit, the words hanging heavily in the air as you finally verbalize a shameful thought you’ve never put into words before.

“I-” Anko starts, before stopping. Instead, she merely rises her glass insistently, leaving you little option but to meet it with your own.

What follows is Anko filling the glasses in a rapid fire succession of chugs that rapidly turns your earlier struggles into a thing of the past, as your body is forcibly taught how to handle whatever poison it is Anko received from the bartender.

Five glasses later, she finally slows down her frantic refilling, though by this point you’re at that point where you know you’ve had too many, but you still have a few minutes of lucidity left before the full weight will hit you. Which makes the upcoming stretch of conversation the last one you’re liable to remember from today.

Fortunately, Anko finally finds the words she’s clearly been looking for.

“I think he genuinely meant the best for us, at first.” She musters, almost flinching under your gaze, as if expecting an immediate reprimand.

“I know he did,” You assert confidently, intending to reassure your remaining teammate, “There was always something about him that hinted at what he might become, but at first… well, all the great shinobi have a kind of madness to them.”

Anko nods heavily at that, actually swirling around the alcohol in her glass rather than slamming it back, her eyes fixated on the fluctuating level of the fluid.

“Do you still…” You start to ask before hesitating, unsure how to phrase your question. Aware that your lucidity won’t be long for this world, you force yourself to continue, “Are you still mistrusted? Mistreated?”

“Sometimes. Nothing like what it used to be,” Anko responds, easing the guilt you feel over how little contact you maintain with her to a degree at least, “If anything, now that one of your brats is getting part of the credit for ending him, I think people may finally be willing to leave things in the past, where they belong.”

You smile, though you can feel that it’s a wider, loopier smile than you intend it to be, “That’s good. I’m happy to hear that.”

Anko lets out a sardonic scoff, “I’m happy to say it, I guess.”

“I’ll always hate him for that,” You muster, “For what he did to you. For taking Jun.”

Your former teammate’s surprise is apparent, but you’re only just getting started, now properly on a roll.

“I know that I’m supposed to hate him for betraying Konoha. And though I can’t understand it, don’t approve of it and would have fought him to the best of my ability if needed or called upon, that I can’t hate him for. That wasn’t personal. But marking you. Warping Jun’s mind… I hope that whatever remains of his soul will burn eternally for that.” You declare, before raising your glass in a clear offering.

Finally, Anko grins, though whether at your words or at whatever she sees in your posture that hints at your increasing inebriation, you don’t know.

She raises her own glass and clinks it against yours, “To the memory of the man he once was, and that what remains of him may burn eternally!”

You both chug back your drinks.

And that’s where your recollection of the evening ends.