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In a village the size of Konohagakure, if the nins working at the Internal Affairs Department were asked about it, there hardly was a day when no one had anything to complain about. When it came to its shinobi population, it was a running bet when they would have a day when nobody filed a complaint when it came to their operating ranks: when a genin team hadn't ruined some civilian farmer's vegetable patches with their child's eagerness to help out, when a chuunin on their way back from a mission had not gotten tangled into a clothesline that certainly had not been there the last time they had taken that route over the roofs, or when a bored jounin hadn't spooked civilian school children to death with an inane stunt that had included wet cats, balloons and slippers. That one in particular had driven both the morning and the noon shifts almost to the brink of despair with every absurd detail and witnessing report that had poured in.
They all hoped that the bastard in question gained a new perspective to life's sense of humor on his D-rank infiltration mission at the hot-springs for the elderly shinobis.
All working at the Internal Affairs Department took pride in the swift process that the complaint forms went through, as well in the fast responses they sent off when everything had been stamped and filed into their system. It might have had something to do with the fact that they were all accountable to Hatake-sama if anything went pear-shaped, but most of the office workers knew that more than the fear of awakening their leader's wrath, it was their loyalty to their home village that made their minds tick and fingers tap the keyboards through the eight-hour shifts and the extra hours that came with some cases. Nobody wanted to offer a gateway for a foreign threat to wreck Konoha via badly checked paperwork, not after all the invasions and wars they had been through.
Thus, it was reasonable when, on one early morning, a chuunin who was starting out her shift by browsing through the stack of unsorted papers left by the night shift, almost dropped the coffee she had been drinking when a complaint form, not any more different than the other forms piled on her desk, made it to her hand and was read by her sleepy eyes. Carefully, she put the mug down on her desk, wiped the spilled drops of the drink from her hand to her dark uniform pants, straightened her spine and gave a new read to the neat lines that had been written on the paper she held in her hands. After reading to the last word on the paper, the chuunin turned the paper in her hands, checked the other side of the form, placed it against the window that was behind her back and peered between the lines against the bright sunlight, before the paper was placed on her desk once again. Silence reigned in her office, and she absently noticed the echoing greetings of her colleagues as they passed the door to the office she shared with one other office worker, while she stared incredulously at the paper in front of her. Her office mate greeted her in the doorway, but stopped the steps to the office at the sight of the chuunin's darkening scowl at the paper on her desk.
Five minutes later, once new cups of coffee had been brewed, there sat two chuunins in a quiet office, both measuring up the pressed sheet of cellulose that mocked them back from its spot on the office desk. After a quiet discussion and a quick check on the calendar to make sure that the disastrous 1st of April had no plans to make a comeback for that year, they reached a conclusion which made them briefly consider the possible ramifications if they had it all incorrect. They decided that if that were the case, it was all the more proper for them to finally open the sake bottle they had hidden in one of the office cabinets.
Later, when the afternoon shift came to find their colleagues bearing unusually silly grins on their faces and suspicious flush on their cheeks with an unsettling slur in their speech to accompany it, they noticed uncommon commotion coming from the direction of the bulletin boards of their department, which made it only natural for them to go and see what all of the fuss was about. When they saw what had been pinned to the wall next to the regulations and rules of their department, it also became clear that none of them may get any work done on that day, which explained the sake that was apparently served in the staff room. However, the innocent slip of paper that they read brought smiles to their faces, many of them recognizing the familiar handwriting of the former dictator of Administration, the familiar strokes of pen forming words that read:
'Official Form of Complaint, case number 74583.
Filing a complaint against Rokudaime Hokage Hatake Kakashi for having consumed liberal amounts of garlic and Camembert on a diplomatic dinner and then bestowing unwanted public display of affection on Umino Iruka, the headmaster of Konoha Shinobi Academy, during the negotiations with the international emissaries. Tell the insufferable man to stop harassing me after every single time he eats that ungodly stuff, for all the things that are holy. Please.'