The Case-Book of Kakashi Hatake

The Three Orange Pips {Part 1}

Kakashi Hatake has truly failed only one case.

If you can loosen his tight lips on the subject, she's always just the woman.

The woman he couldn't save.

It was a velvety, navy blue outside streaked by pouring, December rain. The windows were like a symphony with the steady patter beating like a drum and the occasional rumbling thunder rattling them in their frames.

Hatake was reading an orange book as per the usual while I wrote in my leather-bound journal, both of us sipping steaming cups of tea.

There was a bright flash of lightning and a bass clap of thunder followed mere seconds later by the shrill ring of the doorbell that Genma recently had installed (so that he wouldn't have to answer the door for Hatake any longer).

Locking eyes with my housemate, we had a silent battle of wills, him raising one eyebrow until I gave in with a sigh, setting down my journal and making my way downstairs. I slid back the locks, giving the slightly sticky one a powerful tug before opening the door a crack. The pounding splash of the rain immediately moistened my exposed face as I took in the sight of a young woman shivering under a black umbrella.

"He-hello," her teeth chattered, and I noticed the way that her hand quivered on the handle of the umbrella, knuckles white with her tight grip. "I'm looking f-f-for a Mr. Hatake."

I stepped aside and opened the door wide, ushering her into where it was dry, "He's right upstairs; let's get you in where it's warm."

Shutting the door behind her, I grabbed the umbrella from trembling hands and set it by the entryway before leading the way up to the next floor.

She shed her rain-drenched, dark grey coat and hung it on the portmanteau at the top of the stairs, revealing a light purple dress with maroon accents. Her chocolate brown hair was falling out of its bun, strands plastered to her neck from the damp and curling in front of her ears slightly, and light brown eyes fixed on Hatake's back as he crouched in front of the fire, adding more logs. He turned with a slight crease around his eyes indicating a smile, though his lips hadn't really moved. Grabbing a cup, he filled it from the teapot resting on our coffee table, placed the steaming porcelain in her hands, and then led her by the elbow to the armchair by the hearth. 

As Hatake and I took our normal seats across from one another, I could have started doing a jig while squawking like an exotic bird if I'd wanted, and it wouldn't have drawn even an ounce of the lady's attention. There was a bit of color rising in her pale cheeks as her eyes stayed round and transfixed on the face of the consulting detective who was calmly taking a sip of his own tea, her fingers toying unconsciously with a crease in her skirt.

Feeling somewhat like an intruder, I picked back up my journal and pretended to flip through it just to have something to do.

"You must be quite desperate to come so far on your own in such weather," Hatake stated before setting down his cup.

"Yes, you could say that," she said softly before blowing gently across her tea. "I've received a threat on my life, and I don't know what to do. I have no family left in the Land of Fire to turn to for help, and the threat told me not to contact the police. So when a friend of mine mentioned that her aunt's murder had been solved a year ago in the most extraordinary fashion by someone who referred to himself as a consulting detective, I allowed myself to hope again. Please, I'll pay whatever it takes, just don't turn me away."

I smiled, by the way that Hatake had straightened up in his seat, almost completely losing the slump of his shoulders, I could tell that his interest had been thoroughly piqued. There was no way that he'd turn her down.

"What's the nature of the threats that you've been receiving?"

She reached into the deep pocket sewn into her shirt, pulling out a bundle of letters wrapped in canvas to protect them from the elements. "I have everything here. You see, my parents died when I was in my late teens, and after their deaths, I went to live with my uncle and only family member left. He had lived in the Land of Water for the duration of my youth and returned to the Land of Fire very suddenly when I was ten, even after he had vowed that he was never coming back. I was too young to remember what he had been like before living in Kiri, but my mother told me that he had changed. He was so paranoid, always looking over his shoulder, always locking all the windows at night. He had a suitcase packed at all times and was never without a pistol. It wasn't until a year ago that I found out why. Uncle had joined a group called the Shinobi Swordsmen of the Mist, but had left when I was ten, taking key documents with him. The contents of the documents, even I don't know, as he was burning them as he told me about the group that he was running from. Apparently, they had found him several years back and had begun making threats. The first set of threats had ended in my parents' death, which had been ruled an accident by the police. My uncle had received another threat, which was the cause of his sudden evidence burning." She grabbed the envelope on top and tipped the contents out into her hand: three citrus seeds. "Three orange pips, he'd called them. A countdown. He had three months to give them what they wanted. He invited over his lawyer and willed everything to me before shooting himself in the head with his always-present pistol within the week. He had placed a note in the drop site where he was supposed to leave the documents, stating that he had burned them. He-he told me this was the only way to keep me safe... But, it seems that he was wrong."

With a shaking hand she held out another document, Hatake leaning forward to take it from her. Slowly he opened it up and poured the contents out. Three small seeds rolled into the palm of his hand.

"Three orange pips," he whispered, setting them to the side before reaching into the envelope and pulling out a sheet of paper with choppy writing on one side. "'We do not believe that Itsuki Nohara burned the ledgers as he claimed,'" the consulting detective read carefully. "'You have three months to place all of the documents on the sun dial on the edge of your estate, or the consequences will be dire. Do not reach out to the police and do not try to run; we will be watching.' It's dated the twenty-sixth of September. Your three months end in a couple days."

"What should I do?" Her voice quivered, "The documents they want have been burned; I have nothing to give them."

A/N: The doorbell was invented in 1831, and electric doorbells weren't widely used until the 1900's (this story is set 1880-90's ...ish, ahh, the beauty of AU's). However, I wanted them to have one and it makes sense in the context of the story so there you have it. Also, I've been so excited about this story that I actually started writing this over a month ago and have just been sitting on it, unable to publish until the story caught up.