Chapter Four
Anbu is a drag.
– Lieutenant Nara
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand?”
Hatake and I are currently shut in his office as he sits in his chair with his hands steepled in front of his face and I stand to attention before his desk. We have been in here ever since he had dragged me from Team Beast’s training facilities when I let the blank filled with green powder fly and hit him in a dead strike to his temple; winning the mock drill for Team Beast and giving Team Hound their first ever loss on record.
I don’t give him a response and we continue to have a silent battle of wills as he watches me with cold fury written into every line of his body.
“Unfortunately, people above me think you still have some usefulness and don’t see this as something to punish you for… I disagree. What I can do is revoke all your rec privileges for the foreseeable future, and you, alone, will be handling Team Beasts cleaning duties” Hatake spits and I force myself not to laugh as some of the green powder still smeared on the side of his head and on his mask floats down onto his desk as he talks.
“Understood, sir” I acknowledge, and his scowl darkens as he leans back in his chair shaking his head.
“Get out of my sight and go start dinner” Hatake dismisses me with a wave of his hand, and I turn to leave. “Haruno, serve inedible slop again to my injured team and you will run one hundred laps, understood?”
“I’ll do my best, Captain” I say, only risking rolling my eyes once I have turned away from him and leave his office.
Heading for the kitchens, I thoroughly wash my hands and put my apron on as I grab the recipe card from the hook. Tonight is tuna mornay according to the schedule. Delicious.
Filling a pot with water I get it boiling as I grab out penne pasta, two large cans of tuna and the bag of frozen peas form the freezer. I also grab the butter, flour and milk for the sauce and just as I am measuring out what I need Hatake walks into the kitchen and grabs a soda from the fridge as he leans against the long middle bench. He doesn’t say a word to me, just watches every move I make, so I pointedly ignore him as I religiously read the card and keep measuring out what it says to add.
We don’t speak, and I give my best shot at acting nonchalant as I pull off my surprise for the dish tonight without raising his suspicions, but as I wrap the tray and slide it in the oven to cook, I let a little of the smile that has wanted to break out show on my face as I turn to Hatake.
“Recipe says it needs to bake for thirty minutes, do I have permission to clean up and tend to my injuries, Sir?” I ask innocently enough but Hatake does not blink or give any acknowledgement that I have spoken.
He slowly stands from where he is leaning and throws his empty can in the trash bin before walking towards me. I stay still and watch his every move; nervous he is going to hit me. He walks until he is less than an arm’s length away from me and I hate that I flinch when he lifts a hand to rub his face. My flinch gives him pause and a small crease appears between his eyes before it is gone.
“Go. Be quick, if dinner burns-”
“I’m running laps and regretting the day I was born” I cut him off before I can stop my mouth, and with the adrenaline spike from tempting death, I scamper out of the kitchen before he can react.
Not wanting to give Hatake anymore ammunition, besides the delightful surprise I have planned for dinner, I take a speedy shower to clean up and patch up what I can of my injuries. My face is a beautiful mix of red, purple and black along my jaw and under my eyes and I wince at my reflection in the stark bathroom lights. My hair is a choppy short mess, but I don't have time to fix it right now, so I tie the top of it out of my face and leave the uneven rat's nest in the back for future Sakura to deal with. I am thankful to not run into any of the others on my team as I do all this, already dreading the explosion waiting for me after my actions in the mock scenario. It is highly likely I will be running laps when Hatake tastes my rendition of the classic Tuna Mornay, so instead of my comfortable pajamas I change into a soft pair of sweats and a tank with fresh bindings. Heading for the kitchen again, I am surprised to see Hatake still standing at the oven as he watches the clock over the sink tick away the time.
“I wasn’t going to let it burn” I quip as I slide the oven mitts on and pull the burning hot tray from the oven to carefully place it on the centre cork mat. I begin to gather plates and cutlery when Hatake tells me to stop.
I freeze with the bowls still in my hand and watch as he walks over and grabs a fork from the drawer and then back to the tray without another word.
“You really must be suicidal Haruno,” Hatake says as he dips the fork into the bubbling golden cheese and pulls a hefty bite out. “The rest of the team have rec leave tonight and tomorrow after the stunt you pulled.”
From his tone, I know that he knows, that I have slipped something in and not made the usual bland Tuna Mornay that the recipe card specifies. He eyes me for a moment, with the fork held just before his face as he lets it cool, almost like he is giving me the opportunity to fess up, but I keep my mouth sealed as I wait for him to take the bite. Hell, I might even get to see the bastards face finally under that face mask he doesn't seem to be able to take off, so no way am I saying a word until he eats it.
Hatake lets out a weary sigh before shoving the fork back into the tray without taking the bite, “you brought this on yourself, get outside and start running.”
“What!? I made the recipe; you watched me do it!” I fight the anger colouring my tone that he did not even try it. It’s not fun if he doesn’t.
“You aren’t that dense Haruno, and I wasn’t born yesterday. You think I couldn’t tell that the “flour” you used is baking soda? Now move your ass, don’t think I won’t make you run in the dark.”
I must give the man credit here, he has me floored that he noticed.
I may or may not have read ahead yesterday and saw what tonight’s dish is and “accidently” switched the labels on the glass jars for this exact reason. Plausible deniability if anyone checked the cupboards and all that but it doesn’t feel very satisfying when none of them actually bloody ate it.
Fighting to maintain what little dignity I have left at this point I silently trudge past him, grabbing my runners from the closet before heading outside to the large track in the outdoor field. The sun is still completing its slow descent down so there is plenty of light out here now, but the temperature is steadily dropping as it disappears.
A quick stretch and I set a steady rhythm as I begin my laps.
I have completed three when Hatake comes and sits on one of the large cement bollards, reading from a little orange book in the quickly fading light. He pulls a small torch from his pocket when I complete my fifth and the grounds fade in the darkness. I keep my legs moving and my arms in a steady rhythm; getting lost in my own head as I whittle down the number of laps. There is some light from the large compound behind us but for the most part I am running in the cold darkness with nothing but my breath and sounds of my feet hitting the track.
Around the fifty laps mark I know I have slowed my pace a little and Hatake’s voice makes me jump when I pass him, and he tells me to speed up. Fucking asshole. Returning to my previous pace, my lungs and legs scream at me to stop, and my body already feels like it’s been hit by a truck. I would never give him the satisfaction of thinking I couldn’t handle his shit though, so I firmly ignore my body and keep pushing.
By the time I stumble over the finish line on my last lap my lungs have been replaced with pin cushions and my legs have turned to jelly. I collapse onto the ground as my vision fades in and out and I suck in lungsful of air in short painful gasps. There is nothing left in me, I had thrown up the meagre contents of my stomach around lap eighty, and I allow the darkness around me to pull me under for a few blissful moments.
“Almost four hours to run forty kilometres, that’s pretty pathetic Haruno” Hatake’s voice floats down to me and I open bleary eyes to peer up at him.
I can’t even summon the energy to give him a reply as my mouth feels like sandpaper and my head throbs in a steady pounding beat. I think I garble a response to him, but I am not sure because darkness takes me under again and I lose track of time as I float through blissful nothing.
***
Waking up is pure and utter agony.
I try to sit up and get my bearings of where I am, because it is definitely not the track or my cupboard, but an undignified whimper slips out as the slight movement sends waves of fire through my body.
“Are you always this dramatic?” Hatake’s voice says to my right, and I shoot daggers at him as I finally manage to prop myself up in a seated position.
I take in his office and the couch I am lying on with a deep frown etched on my face, did he carry me inside after I passed out?
“Drink” Hatake demands as he shoves a glass of orange liquid into my face, and I eye it distrustfully without taking it. “It’s electrolytes, you aren’t worth the paperwork for me to bother poisoning you.”
Taking it and gingerly sipping, I blanch at the horrible taste before sculling it as fast as I can. Shuddering as it hits my stomach, I hold a hand to my mouth not sure it is going to stay there, thankfully it does. Hatake has moved over to his desk and is reading through what looks like intelligence reports as he ignores me.
“If you’re done being pathetic you have cleaning duties to attend too” Hatake says without even looking at me and I want to flip him off so badly but settle for a safer eye roll as I shakily get to my feet.
I hobble from his office on stiff legs and begin my long journey to Team Beast’s compound. Despite the absolute mess my body is in right now, I decide that holding out against these assholes and their bullshit is still one hundred percent worth it.
Even if it ends up killing me.