Chapter Text
“Victim number five. Confirmed.”
Detective Shikaku Nara scratched his unshaved chin. A rough stubble was starting to take over, which was out of character considering he usually kept his face completely smooth. On top of that, the dark circles under his eyes had gotten noticeably worse over the past few months. All thanks to a serial murder case that had him pulling overtime almost every single night.
“Dammit,” he muttered.
Next to him, his partner, Detective Inoichi Yamanaka pushed himself up from a squat.
“Honestly, the more this goes on, the more I feel like we’re trapped in some cliché Hollywood procedural cop show,” Yamanaka said, watching his partner stare down at the body lying face-up in front of them. “All you’re missing is a pair of sunglasses and a slow turn toward the camera. BAM—cue the opening credits.”
Yamanaka started humming the intro song to one of his favorite crime series.
“Can you be serious for two seconds?” Nara snapped, annoyed. “I swear I’m kicking you out of my Netflix account if you keep bingeing those shows instead of focusing on your job.”
“Someone’s in a cheerful mood today,” Yamanaka smirked. “Barred from the futon again, aren’t we? How’s Yoshino, by the way?”
Nara chose to ignore him. If he hadn't known Yamanaka since their days together at the Police Academy, he probably would’ve reported him to be fired for 'extreme lack of professionalism in the field.'
“Any CCTVs around here?” Nara asked instead.
“In a deserted alley in a neighborhood like this? Nah, unfortunately. Nearest one’s at the convenience store about two hundred meters back. The cyber team is currently analyzing the footage from the victim's office entrance, though. They're questioning his coworkers right now, especially the night-shift janitor who saw him alive last.”
“Hmm,” Nara grunted to show he was listening. He narrowed his eyes, zeroing in on a mark on the victim’s neck. “Looks like our killer’s got a thing for necks. But he got sloppy this time. At least now we have an idea of what kind of weapon he used.”
“Judging by those marks, what do you reckon? Something like kite string?”
“I’m thinking something thicker, like a metal wire. But let’s wait for the forensics report before we make assumptions,” Nara said, just as a few members of the CSI unit jogged over.
Yamanaka let out a heavy sigh. “Awesome. Overtime again tonight. Better give the missus a heads-up,” he muttered, pulling out his phone.
Nara went back to staring at the body at his feet. He made a mental note to call home later and let the family know he’d be late again.
That is, if he even remembered.
*
A few kilometers from the crime scene, several hours earlier, Anko was tugging at the tight dress hugging her chest for the millionth time, grumbling under her breath. The dress belonged to Kurenai, who was obviously taller and definitely slimmer. Although Anko did not mind revealing attire—hey, if you got it, flaunt it—it was a rather tight dress, and she even began to seriously consider cutting back on her sweet dessert addiction. Besides, Kurenai had insisted that this shimmering purple number was the perfect fit for Anko, even if it made Anko feel like a human disco ball.
At least her makeup was on point. Not too heavy, but enough to seamlessly cover her flaws. With Kurenai around, Anko never had to hassle with going to a salon or hiring a makeup artist—which was a lifesaver, considering she had zero beauty skills. Literally zero. She used to think Kurenai’s beauty blender was a squishy toy.
Her mind drifted to when Kurenai was putting on some make up on her. She had stared at her own eyes in the mirror. The sharp flick of her cat-eye eyeliner made her already naturally intense face look even fiercer.
“It reflects your personality. Perfectly!” Kurenai declared cheerfully.
“I look like a blow-up sex doll.”
“Anko!”
She exhaled. “Whatever. Still better than going completely barefaced, I guess. Thanks.”
“Anytime! Ugh, why am I more excited for this date than you are?” Kurenai pinched both of Anko’s cheeks, only laughing when the younger girl threw a fit.
“Anyway, what time are you meeting him?”
“Eight PM. It’s a dinner date. After that… maybe a movie? I don’t know. We’ll see.”
Kurenai flashed a cheeky, suggestive look. Anko caught her drift instantly.
“I am not doing that on a first date, okay?” Anko cringed. “Kakashi isn’t... that kind of guy. Unlike your precious Asuma.”
“This might surprise you, but Asuma is actually really sweet and caring. You just have to get to know him as much as I do!”
Anko gagged dramatically. “Are we seriously talking about the same guy?”
“Whatever, stop talking about my love life. Just focus on your date so everything goes smoothhhhly. Oh, by the way, I slipped a few condoms into your handbag—”
“Kurenai, for fuck’s sake!”
The conversation replayed in Anko’s head as she adjusted her dress yet again. Honestly, she had no idea what to expect. When was the last time she’d actually gone on a first date anyway? Had she ever been on a real date before, even? Those after school “study sessions” with Orochimaru-sensei surely didn’t count. For someone as fierce as her, she had to admit, hatefully, that she was miserably inexperienced.
Oh no, she will not allow herself to think about sex. People sleep with each other on their first date all the time, sure, but she would not be one of them. Orochimaru might have gotten the best of her, but it took him practically years to get into her pants only to ghost her. She would not make the same mistake again.
So, even though—cliché as it was—a swarm of butterflies violently invaded her stomach every time Kakashi crossed her mind, Anko suppressed the nerves with all the strength of a black-belt judo throw. I will NOT make the same mistake again.
But as the seconds, minutes, and eventually an entire hour ticked by with Anko sitting alone like an idiot inside the restaurant, that nervous energy slowly fizzled out—replaced by a rage that was rapidly reaching a boiling point. She glanced at her phone screen. 9:28 PM.
Almost an hour and a half past their agreed time, and Kakashi was still nowhere to be seen. To make matters worse, she had no idea if Kakashi’s phone was even working again, leaving her with zero way to reach him.
Fine. To hell with it. Anko decided to bail. Kakashi could eat shit for all she cared.
With her blood boiling so hot her brain felt like it was literally smoking, Anko stormed out of the restaurant. A non-stop stream of swearwords flew under her breath, cursing herself for getting her hopes up over a trash-tier human being named Kakashi.
She hadn't even taken five steps from the restaurant entrance when she heard her name being called. Anko spun around on instinct.
The very guy she had just been cursing into oblivion was jogging toward her.
“I am— so— terribly sorry—” he panted, completely out of breath. “I was— something super urgent came up that I had to handle, so—”
Anko opened her mouth, ready to unleash a nuclear barrage of insults right into his face. But before she could get a word out, Kakashi shoved something into her view.
“So I went and got you this first! The line was totally insane, but I really hope you like it.”
Anko finally took in Kakashi’s appearance. His hair was still kind of messy, but it looked like he’d actually made an effort to comb it, even if sweat was currently sticking a few stray strands to his forehead. His usual hoodie was gone, replaced by a dark blue button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, paired with light-wash jeans that actually looked decent. His sneakers were clearly freshly washed. Or brand new. There was a slight dirt mark on his face mask, but it didn’t really ruin his appearance.
And in his hand was a cup of ice cream emblazoned with the word ‘Ciellato’ in gold cursive lettering.
“Green tea latte and caramel flavor,” Kakashi mumbled.
Ciellato was at least ten thousand yen a scoop. And that was for the mini cup.
Anko’s rage began to thaw. She had been dying to try this ice cream for forever, but her wallet always talked her out of it.
“How did you know I liked this?”
“I don’t know, I just got a feeling that you have a sweet tooth.”
Anko’s face flushed hot. She could almost see Kakashi’s mouth twitched upward behind his mask, his eyes softening as he looked at her.
“Whatever. Give it here.” Anko snatched the ice cream from his hand, doing her best to maintain a scowl even if her heart wasn't in it anymore. She scooped up a spoonful, popped it into her mouth, and instantly saw stars. Her tastebuds were practically doing a victory dance because, swear to God, it was the single most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
Anko only realized her eyes had been closed in bliss when she heard Kakashi’s distinct chuckling. She immediately dialed up her fiercest glare to cover up her embarrassment. “What? What’s so funny?”
Kakashi’s face mask stretched with his smile. He reached out his free hand toward her.
“The night sky is clear. The weather's great. So… may I?”
Honestly, Anko didn't even need to be asked twice. But she felt obligated to play it cool just a little longer so Kakashi wouldn't realize her stomach was currently doing full-on backflips.
Sliding her hand into his grip, Anko finally let out a smile of her own.
And together they walked hand in hand into the night.