Chapter Text
He didn’t look like anything she had expected. The advertising campaign that Kurenai had relentlessly spread over the past week had her expecting an artsy, perhaps almost hipster dude with a leather jacket and sleek hair. Anko thought at first, yeah, she could deal with that. At least those guys usually smell nice.
Instead, the guy staring at her with such heavy-lidded eyes that she was convinced he was at least half-asleep was a pathetic excuse for a man, reeking of something Anko suspected was dog piss. His face was partially covered by a flu mask, and Anko wasn’t sure how long it had been since he last had a good bath, let alone if he was even familiar with the concept of basic hygiene.
Anko gave her friend-slash-flatmate a good measure of ankle kicking under the table, but Kurenai didn’t even flinch. Instead, the woman threw a knowing smile at the man sitting across them.
“So, Kakashi. What do you do for a living?” Kurenai said, unflustered.
The guy regarded the two women with the remotest hint of interest, as if he was talking to one of the dusty decorative ferns tucked in the corner of this restaurant.
“I take photographs.”
“Oh, you mean you’re a photographer?” Kurenai’s obviously fabricated chirp almost made Anko gag on her drink. “That’s awesome!”
“No, I mean I put up a signboard on the side of the road telling tourists I’ll take their photos for 1000 yen per picture.”
“Well, that... sounds fun.”
“Yeah, business’ been pretty good,” the man replied. He scratched his head offhandedly. Anko could only pray a swarm of lice wouldn’t pop up from there to say hello.
“Well, Anko here has an interesting job as well. Go on, Anko, tell him.”
“I get paid to hurt people,” Anko said in a flat tone.
“She’s not serious.” Kurenai’s damage control consisted of calmly stabbing Anko’s feet with her killer stiletto heel. “She’s a judo instructor for teenagers.”
Kakashi’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “Ah.”
Anko managed to produce a grunt of response as she strained to keep her eyes from watering. As a result, an eternity of silence ensued, only broken when Asuma arrived with one of his friends from work, whom Anko recognized as Genma – the guy who seemed to be perpetually high.
Within seconds of sitting down, Asuma had already lit a fresh cigarette, puffing smoke with every word he said. “You guys are early, I see. That’s new for Kakashi.”
“I can be early if I wanted to,” Kakashi said. Asuma didn’t seem to hear him.
“Everyone having fun?”
“Oh, we’re having a great time.” Kurenai grinned. Anko gripped the beer mug in her hand like ithad personally offended her and gulped down the contents. Ugh. She never liked the taste, in truth. Why have it bitter when you can have it sweet? But the necessity of the situation trumped her preference at the moment.
“There’s just one more left, huh?” Asuma asked, a cigarette wiggling between his nicotine-stained lips. “Whatshername... Shizune?”
Kurenai nodded. “She’ll be here in 5 minutes. Then we can start.”
They let their gazes linger on each other before looking away: Asuma busied himself with Genma; Kurenai suddenly got fascinated with her fingernails. Anko almost gave an audible snort.
It was excruciating to watch their on again, off again situationship. Especially for Anko, who was involuntarily given the front row seat to their late-night rendezvous soaked with alcohol and self-pity. Anko would pretend to stay asleep when she heard the front door of their flat open at two A.M., footsteps shuffling and whispers rushing, only to find the faint waft of stale tobacco at breakfast the next morning. Once, there was even a cigarette butt stuffed in the dirt of Kurenai's potted begonia. It was blatant proof. Anko had frowned at the blushing Kurenai, who mumbled that 'it was just for this one time'.
Knowing them, there would always be another of their ‘just this one time’ in the next weekend or so.
Anko wished they’d just get on with it already; the only ones they were fooling were themselves. The way Kurenai's eyes lit up when she mentioned Asuma's name, or the way he fumbled with his cigarette pack when she was around, sent a clear enough signal that they were more than just friends with benefits.. Anko brought this up once, but Kurenai just looked at her as if being four years younger meant Anko was none the wiser, said nothing, and unabashedly changed the subject.
Anko herself had thought she’d been in love once, but it wasn’t. It was admiration turned into adoration, then total devotion, and eventually destruction.
He was her high school biology teacher and Anko was much too young for him. Anko had never had a real father growing up, and her mother was more absent than around. Then along came Orochimaru-sensei, with his gentle hands and mellifluous voice and nurturing charisma, to become the closest thing she ever had to a father, and a lover. She would hang around his class long after the bell rang to offer her help, but mostly she just enjoyed watching him. And he was more than welcoming.
It wasn’t at all for the grades. It was for the comfort he offered when the world seemed to take a toll on her. It was for the feeling that she, too, chaotic and unmanageable as she was, could be loved.
She was smitten.
On the night of her graduation, he asked for something more. He asked for the whole of her, in exchange that they could be together forever. She complied, and they spent the night together. She woke up the next morning to find that he'd left the city without a word and hadn't come back since.
Feeling hurt and betrayed, all the way through college she never so much as went out on a date. Of course, for Kurenai, that was a problem of astronomical proportions, next to a zombie apocalypse. Anko said she was perfectly fine, thank you very much; she didn't need a man in her life, she had her pet snakes—which, Kurenai pointed out while cringing, was exactly the problem.
Even as roommates, Kurenai never objected to Anko's fondness for serpents, until the moment she came home from work to see Anko "making out" with one of her darling pets (“I was only trying to feed him chicken from my mouth!” Anko cried, as if it made it any less creepy). She decided it was time to put her foot down. In Kurenai's eyes, Anko desperately needed a guy like a diabetic patient needed insulin shots.
“I’ve arranged a goukon for this Saturday night,” she said. “For you and Shizune. Asuma’s friends are going to be there and I will hear no objections.”
Anko’s protested in any way she could think of, but Kurenai was a mountain of steel. Anko should’ve known better that nothing would move her, considering she’d known and lived with her for the last five years. When they first met, Anko was a freshman in Kurenai’s old university. Their school had this program where alumni were given the option to provide accommodations for new students. Kurenai had a spare room since her former flatmate, Shizune, had to move out of the place they used to share, and she agreed to rent it at an incredibly economical price. Anko, being penniless, jumped at the opportunity.
She remembered knocking on the front door and meeting an attractive woman with rich black curls down her back and lips the reddest she'd ever seen. The flat wasn't that big, but everything was sleekly clean to the point of near-blinding. Near the window stood a variety of plants and flowers, all looking well-nourished, indicating the fastidiousness of the owner. Anko was intimidated, to say the least, but the rent was just too tempting, and Kurenai didn’t even mind if she brought along slithering animals as long as Anko do all the caring and making sure they did not stray anywhere unguarded. So she was sold.
Anko had no idea that this fussy albeit caring woman would end up being the big sister figure she’d never had.
Anko elbowed Kurenai hard in the ribs, snapping her from her daze. “What?” The older woman frowned.
“The ladies room,” Anko growled. “Now.”
Kurenai trailed behind her and closed the bathroom door. She looked at her friend with an almost self-satisfied smirk.
“So? He’s great isn’t he?”
To say that Anko was incredulous at Kurenai’s total lack of remorse would be an understatement. “Seriously?”
“Well… I might have exaggerated a little bit about him…”
“You call that an exaggeration? I didn’t put on this whor-ific costume you call a dress and splatter my face with rainbow war paint for that… that hobo!”
“Anko, that is rude!” Kurenai made a shushing gesture; Anko wasn't known for speaking quietly.
Anko rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the sink with lips pursed. “This whole goukon thing is a stupid idea anyway.”
“Anko, I’d rather slit my wrists than watch you canoodling another reptile,” Kurenai said, holding one finger up to silence Anko’s disapproval before she had the chance to say anything. "You need interaction with a real, living, breathing male human before it's too late. Now could you please act like an adult for a second and take a chance on him? Or would you rather see your pets mysteriously transported to someplace God only knows where?”
Anko threw her the dirtiest look she could muster. “Fine,” she said, nonetheless. “But only if you take off half of my rent next month.”
Kurenai scoffed. “Not a chance.”
When they walked back to their table, Shizune was already there, apparently hitting it off pretty easily with the stoned one—sorry, Genma. Asuma was chugging on his beer and that other one, Kakashi, was just sitting there looking like he’d rather be shoveling dirt than being there. Anko sighed, dejectedly.
Here goes nothing.
*
As smooth as group dates could go, tonight's goukon successfully produced one new connection—only it didn't include Anko. Shizune had expressed her favorable impression throughout the entire proceeding (it was normal to whisper about the guys with your girl friends, even when they’re right in front of you), and she won’t hadn’t shut up about Genma since.
“Oh, have I told you that he’s got an excellent taste in music?” Shizune chattered from behind the wheel. She was giving Kurenai and Anko a lift back to their flat in her car. Being a physician, Shizune gave out the air of a sophisticated, professional young woman. Her dresses were chic, her shoes designer-made, her perfume smelled like a million dollar.s But once you got to know her, you’d be surprised how much of a teenager she was at heart. She even had this large stuffed pig she named Tonton that she carried with her everywhere she went, even to bed. Her attachment to Tonton, which mirrored Anko's to her snakes, was probably what urged Kurenai to involve her in tonight's goukon. Well, mission accomplished for her, Anko thought.
“Anyway, he asked me to go to this really cool concert this weekend with him. I mean, I never knew anyone who liked the same music as I do before I met him. It’s like it’s written in the stars.”
“That’s wonderful,” Kurenai said, absent-mindedly. She devoted the rest of her attention to her cell phone, typing something. Shizune wasn’t noticing, still too busy listing aloud all the pluses of Genma, but Anko did take a peek. Kurenai was texting Asuma.
Anko mentally groaned. Pity she was such a light sleeper; once they got home, she had to prepare extra pillows to drown the sound of Asuma’s inevitable visit.
“By the way, Anko,” Shizune glanced in the rearview mirror. “You’re awfully quiet tonight. Was it going well with you and Kakashi?”
Anko avoided her eyes and chose to look outside the window. “Fine.”
“Tsk, doesn’t sound like it.” Shizune said. “Did you at least get his number?”
“Oh, Kakashi will call her all right,” Kurenai piped in, dropping her phone back into her handbag. “Just wait and see.”
Anko huffed a ‘whatever’. No, she and Kakashi didn’t exchange numbers. They barely even exchanged more than two words the whole time, and that was because of Kurenai fishing it from them back and forth. It was so unbearable.
“Anyway, Shizune-san, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Anko thought it was best to change the subject. “Do you know anything about the murder near your workplace a few days ago?”
Shizune’s expression turned grim. “Yeah, actually. It was horrible, wasn’t it? The victim used to work in administration at my hospital. I didn’t know her personally, but they said she quit last year to get her degree. That was the last we’d heard of her, until they found her body in the dumpster…”
She seemed to be contemplating something, then said, “Let me tell you something I got from a police friend of mine. It turns out that that girl wasn’t the first one. These past three months, there have been two other identical cases in the other parts of the city. Same age, around mid-twenties, same height, same method of killing… The Konoha police have been trying to cover it up, with the mayoral election coming up and all.”
“So you’re saying, right now, there is a serial killer on the loose? In Konoha?” Kurenai said, a shudder running through her voice.
“Why do you think I drove you guys home anyway?” Shizune said. “Even if Anko could mangle the limbs of that son of a bitch—which I have no doubt she can—we can never be too careful.”
Nobody said anything else until Shizune’s car reached Anko’s apartment building. Finally. Anko was eager to get back to the safety of her room and to her beloved pets.
“Well, thank you for giving us a lift, Shizune,” Kurenai said. “See you later.”
“No problem,” Shizune waved as they got out of the car, and added with a cheery yell, “Thank you for the awesome goukon!”
*
Anko didn’t feel like talking with Kurenai, so she said to her she was going to call it a night. She made sure all her snakes were fed and safe in their boxes before going to sleep. Or rather, trying to.
She squeezed her eyes shut for the umpteenth time, only to have them wide open again. Somehow the image of her high school sensei kept creeping back. His long black hair, his lithe figure as he bent over her and let his hands linger on her shoulder blades, his breath so close to her like they were breathing the exact same air, his caresses that made her shiver in excitement…
She didn’t regret what happened. She was already eighteen when it occurred, old enough to recognize right from wrong, and she did give her consent. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
What she couldn’t accept was how he discarded her like a piece of trash after what happened between them. As if she was nothing. As if what they had was nothing.
In retrospect, it most certainly was nothing to him.
How could he do this? He knew that to me, it was everything. It was all I had.
Anko had repeated this question over a billion times in her head, imagining a scenario where they came face to face and what would she say then, but nothing helped her to forgive him. Over time, the pain and the anger subsided into nothing more than a dull ache—no longer painful, only unsettling. But the memory stayed fresh.
On the far side of her room, one of her snakes shifted in his glass box.
Anko finally fell into an uneasy but deep sleep. She didn’t even hear the usual quiet arrival of a certain male figure and Kurenai’s muffled giggles as midnight came and went.