The Case-Book of Kakashi Hatake

The Murders of Silver Blaze {Part 4}

The town was quaint. The houses were all one floor of traditional architecture. There was a pub and an inn and all the other miscellaneous establishments you'd expect. The lanes running through it were dirt-packed and dusty, abutting the neatly kept yards with small, terraced gardens on either side of each door.

Hatake glanced once more at the slip of paper in his hand, eyes flicking between the address written there and the house numbers. There were a few other people out and about, but they all seemed to follow us with their eyes. There were no secrets in a town such as this, small and close-knit as it was. They all had heard about the mysterious murder and the two detectives called in from the capitol, who had traveled there from Konoha within the same hour of receiving news of the case. We did make an interesting pair, him with his silver hair and pronounced slouch and me with my practical clothes and rigid posture. Hatake and I certainly stood out from the town's normal crowd. Not that that was a bad thing in my opinion. I firmly believe that I would die of boredom if I lived a quiet, country existence.

Between medical training, war, and now crime-solving, my life choices prove that I have an insatiable need for adventure.

My pondering was cut short by Hatake turning up a narrow path to a fairly large home when compared to its neighbors. He rapped on the door several times, knuckles reverberating against the painted wood.

Now, I would never claim to be anywhere near as observant as my consulting detective friend, but his habits were rubbing off on me some. I couldn't help but notice the paint that was chipping on the door, the weeds in the garden out front, and the well-hidden traces of neglect that graced the home's exterior.

A man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties opened the door. His lips were almost disturbingly full, seemingly puckered, and his sideburns continued in front of his ears to also occupy the hallows of his cheeks, the rest of his face clean-shaven. I could see the family resemblance between him and the dead man from earlier: the stocky builds, cheek bones, and eye colors all matching.

"Ichiro Moya," he said in an over-the-top voice that matched his too-full lips perfectly. "What can I do for you?"

"Kakashi Hata-"

Moya's eyes narrowed as he cut him off, "I remember your name."

Unfazed, Hatake continued, "I'm here about the murder last night of your brother, Saburo. May we come in?"

With a sigh, the man stepped back from the door, ushering us past him.

As I walked by him, his eyes widened as he reached with the hand not occupied by the door towards me, grabbing my fingers from where they were swinging by my side. With a flourish, he pressed a kiss to the back of my hand, eyes glancing up at me over my wrist. A cascade of shivers flowed up my arm all the way to the base of my head on the contact, and I was gripped with the sudden desire to take a bath.

"I didn't see you there, my lady. Ichiro Moya at your service."

With a grimace that bared my teeth and tugged down the corners of my mouth, I pulled my hand from his grasp, subtly wiping the back of it on my skirt.

"Dr. Watanabe, and I guess it's nice to meet you as well?"

Unconsciously, I stood a little closer to Hatake, creating a Copy Nin shield between the back of my hand and Moya. I would probably punch him if he pulled that stunt again. I've been told that I have a mean right hook.

We removed our shoes respectfully at the entrance and stepped up onto the tatami floor. The interior held more small signs of negligent house-keeping. The faded paint, tarnished silver sconces, frayed tatami mats that needed replacing, taking away from the well-furnished home.