interspecies • interconnect (Naruto/Tokyo Ghoul Crossover)

Chapter 2 - Dad

I didn't wait around afterwards. I knew both Choiji and Shikamaru would pass, I had no doubt in my mind about that. I also knew Naruto would inevitably fail. It was the hard and sad truth.

I quickly made my way home, my shinobi headband tucked in my pocket. I wanted to see myself wearing it. I wanted to assure myself that my dream wasn't stupid and that a ghoul could become a shinobi. I wanted to give into those selfish emotions but at that moment, I didn't care. I was so happy and only I could understand why.

I threw open the door and my bag was immediately abandoned somewhere in the corridor. I tugged the headband out my pocket as I walked, the blue material soft and the metal shiny. I ran my fingers over the indent, the sigma. It was beautiful.

I had not noticed that Ibiki was already in the house, nor when he snuck up behind me. He was trained in the art of stealth, so I never let myself feel down if I couldn't put a read on him. It was part of the reason why he earned so much of my respect. He was a true shinobi. I raised my hands to place the band on my forehead, but his large hand swooped in front of my and snatched the band. I turned to him with surprise.

"You wouldn't be able to see the logo," was all he said as he pocketed my headband. He then turned towards the entrance and made his way over. His head shrugged that I follow, and I did. Every time the academy would hold genin tests, the village seemed to brighten up. As if the entire village recognized that the new generation has joined the fight for freedom. That new shinobi were being born on this day.

Never mind the celebrations because of it.

He led me through the village, weaving in and out of roads as if he was autopilot. That or we were lost. Horribly lost. But we eventually did hit a destination, and it was a lot plainer than I expected after all that walking. It was an apartment building.

"Who are we seeing?" I asked with curiosity lacing my voice. I wasn't mad that he had taken my headband because I knew he never did anything without reason. Also, he did tell me we'd cut my hair if I passed. And I did.

"An old acquaintance. We were together at the academy but she passed a year before me. Although I don't agree with her standards, she's still useful," he was confusing, but I knew that. He was a very secretive type of person, but usually everything is revealed in time. He was reasonable like that.

We headed up a few flights of stairs, Ibiki's posture relaxed and his hands deep into his pockets. Sometimes I'd compare him and Shikamaru together, but then either of them would speak. They were both highly intelligent but at different areas. Ibiki believed pain is an effective form of communication, whilst Shikamaru preferred no communication. We halted before a door.

Ibiki bashed gently at the door, clearly not in a rush. He was very relaxed today. That meant he had no time-consuming work to get back to. That meant he had the entire day to do whatever. That meant he took the day off.

For me.

The door opened to reveal a woman about the same age as Ibiki, but clearly not as strict or experienced. No normal shinobi would ever have the experience Ibiki has. Her hair was untamed and black, reaching far down her back. What caught me were her eyes: a very unique shade of red.

"Ibiki Morino, well this is clearly unexpected. I haven't seen you in a long while," she had a caring nature to her, I could tell. What I couldn't figure out was her rank since she wore no vest. Educated guess? Probably a jounin.

"Kurenai. Would you mind assisting me?" straight to the point. No time for chitter chatter, or rather, patience.

"If you believe I can. What do you need of me?" she asked, her posture slightly straightening. Ibiki nodded and stepped out of her view from the door, revealing me behind him. Her red eyes bore over my figure. Suddenly feeling self-confidence, I began twiddling with my jacket's straps. After moving in with Ibiki, he refused me wearing any type of skirt since it hindered kunoichi greatly. I didn't complain, I hated the clothing type since the beginning; Mother refused trousers. But now the fiddling with my skirt had moved to my jacket. I guess mannerisms were tough to get rid of.