Naruto © Kishimoto
Enjoy.
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SUNA – LATE AFTERNOON, KAZEKAGE OFFICE
"This one is different."
"Yeah, no kidding. I should get paid triple the commission, a compensation for what this mission is going to do with my reputation."
"You have a reputation? Geez, golly. That's a new one."
A sickening crunch made from cold steel crushing into plaster and wood punctured the conversation that was now ended, as usual, with violence. A slow bead of sweat ran through the thick purple paint line slashed across Kankurou's face, his eyes blinked rapidly, trying to get the particles of paint out of his eyelashes.
Temari's accuracy always faltered when rage and anger took over. Not that he'd bet on that. There were limits to his luck and betting on his sister's skills was pushing it.
"Temari, stop wrecking the office. There isn't enough in the villager's tax money to cover a hole in the wall every week. "
Kankurou wasn't surprised that the office wall and tax money was being placed before the value of his own life. You get used to these kinds of things when your mouth is your downfall, as well as whatever comes out of it.
He couldn't help it. It was second nature to him. Plus, it increased his reaction time to an inhumane level.
"In addition, Kankurou will be your partner in this mission. I cannot afford to spare another shinobi for this position, considering its nature."
Great. Now they both wanted him dead.
A sardonic smile and a mumbled thanks was heard from Kankurou's side of the room as the puppet nin edged farther away from his blonde sibling, casting glances at the jagged scar left in the wall by the fan.
Metal clanged nosily onto the floor as Temari effortlessly pulled out her weapon of death and stood it next to the jagged hole, all the while thumbing the mission papers nonchalantly with her other hand.
Her decision was made as she tossed the mission file onto the Kazekage's desk, a frustrated sigh following her actions.
There really wasn't much leeway in getting out of the mission. Temari was already lagging behind this year in fulfilling the quota requirement for missions per shinobi, thanks to a mission with a dumbass for an informant and a minefield that stretched for a couple of miles under the constantly changing sand dunes. Gaara had disposed of the informant before she could get her hands moving as soon as all of the nerves in her arms and legs were reconnected.
"How much are they paying again?"
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KONOHA – EARLY MORNING, GODAIME'S OFFICE
"I don't care about the pay. I'm not doing it."
Eyes hinting nights of deprived sleep flashed dangerously at the dark jounin's response to the proposed statement.
The threat was unheeded when at that moment Shikamaru chose to yawn loudly, eyes creasing into wrinkled slits as his entire face contorted. The Godaime wasn't the only one missing out on sleep recently.
"Do you know what the penalty is for insubordination, Shikamaru?" came the dark reply that was filled to the brim with the utmost reluctance for tolerance. There was much sake to be had and only a short time before Shizune came back from a mission to erase any planned intoxication.
Dark coal eyes travelled from the dark spot on the ceiling to the crack on the far left window behind the desk, no doubt done by a former student of his. In the past few years, most of the young shinobi littering the streets now had passed under his instruction at the Academy, if not by the Chunnin Exams.
Like the smart ass bastard he was, Shikamaru ticked off the punishments as they came into his head.
"Torture, imprisonment, castration, though if it were female, it'd be different…never really thought about it that way though--"
"Nara Shikamaru." came the terse reply.
Shikamaru sighed, the slight scowl on his face showing his reluctant submission.
"Look, Tsunade-sama. The reason is fairly simple. I don't have the ample amount of skill to properly execute this mission, if the entire plan of it was to be based on that one single skill. You should find someone else with a better grip on chakra manipulation and stamina for it –"
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"And a better sense of humor. Because if this employer thinks its funny to see shinobi skills being used in such a way, I want to know where he lives and when he sleeps."
"I'll do it," Kankurou piped up, eyes avoiding Temari's stony glare, his lips trying hard not to curl upwards at the edges. After finally obtaining a copy of the mission outlines and reading them through it was decided that this mission was what he had been asking for ever since the day Temari had made fun of his bedwetting habits when they were young.
"Shut up, no one asked you."
"Well, I am in the mission papers. Nothing you can do about that, sis."
"Kankurou, for fuck's sake, if you speak one more fucking time I'll—"
"Temari."
The banter was dropped abruptly when Gaara's threatening voice took over. Both Kankurou and Temari had gotten used to it, but like themselves, Gaara had a temper and short patience as well.
Only it was ten times worse than theirs and usually ended with the total destruction of anything living in a five mile radius.
No amount of tax money would be able to compensate for that hole in the wall.
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The Nara heir swallowed audibly as he stared at the hole made by the frustration that he had created in the Godaime.
So much for bullshitting his way out of this one.
"You will do this, Shikamaru, or help me God, I will send you on the next suicide mission that goes by my office. This mission's employer is paying in amounts that has never been seen in Konoha history since a certain assassination mission. He has also made it known that we are 'competing' against other villages as well for the payment."
Shikamaru's face scrunched into an emotion of pure horror.
He didn't like the sound of that.
A pause was given as the Godaime brushed off some splinters off her hand, face frowning at the scattered documents of once neatly piled stacks littered the floor.
"This mission concerns utmost usage of strategy. Your skills will be enough for it. I cannot find others that fit this category to fulfill that requirement. If chakra management and stamina are problems--find a solution. "
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"You are most compatible with Kankurou as well as having a head that will fit the strategic needs of this mission. You've been through worse. "
Temari's face burned with what Gaara was hinting, if not in an obvious manner. Her excuses now sounded childish and unprofessional. All because she was solely interested in protecting her pride, something shinobi threw away when faced with these situations.
But if this had something to do with competing against other villages, there might be hope that this mission would not be a downfall after all.
Revenge was always a good healthy distraction.
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"A shinobi takes all kinds of hell and situations. It's their job and there are to be no excuses."
Shikamaru's hands shot out from their usual place in his pockets to catch the hefty mission packet thrown his way. More likely towards the direction of his head.
"Dismissed. Now get the hell out of my office and act like a goddamn shinobi!"
After dodging a fast-speed book thrown at him, Shikamaru quickly made his exit with a hand sign and a cloud of smoke.
Great. He was just drafted into a suicidal mission.
How the fuck did he always get himself in these kind of situations?
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Kankurou slipped out of the office as soon as Gaara's last words faded and the curt dismissal was given. The obvious reason was to avoid whatever that displeased look on Temari's face would bring. Or the wide wicked grin following shortly after.
A mood change that quick was a strong indication of a psychological disorder, Kankurou was sure of it.
Not that Temari ever heeded his advice to see a psychiatrist.
He resisted the instinct to jump when he felt an arm wrapped around his shoulders, followed by an all too familiar voice, laced with malice.
"I think I'm going to like this mission afterall," Temari grinned at her brother, enjoying his stunned mortified reaction.
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"I think I'm fucked," Shikamaru groaned.
"Yeah? What else is new?" Kiba snickered, an amused look playing about his reddening canine features. The Inuzuka had just completed his recent batch of missions and had dragged the first familiar face he saw to the nearest bar. Kiba must've nailed some hot action, seeing that he had already downed his fifth shot.
Today just wasn't Shikamaru's lucky day, at all.
But the sound of "free drinks" had brought some solace for the Nara, hence the lack of resistance, though Shikamaru had been tempted to use the newest kage jutsu he had cooked up several days ago on his friend. Maybe then he could have a chance to run and be at least demoted to "missing nin".
Shikamaru groaned again after finishing off his last shot glass of vodka, the alcohol burning a trail from his throat all the way to what seemed like his gut. As much as he didn't like his father's drinking habits, he had to admit that sometimes a glass of the strong acidic like liquid helped him achieve some sort of solace.
"I gotta go. Godaime's sending me off on a suicide mission. Been nice knowing you, Kiba."
A roll of slit-like eyes was the only sentiment given in response from his comrade. "Tch, whadda drama queen. S'not 'suicidal' if you're not going against your girlfri—"
"Ex."
"Whateva. After what ya done to her, y'know, I'm not surprised if ya end up dead or y'know.."
"You're drunk, Kiba, shut up. Go home to Hinata."
"I'm not drunk!"
Kiba flashed his canine teeth angrily, himself taking offense of being called a lightweight indirectly. Though the mention of Hinata did make him push the shot glass further away from himself, his other hand reaching for some money in his pocket.
Through the corners of his eyes, Shikamaru made sure that Kiba had taken out the right amount of change before he got up himself to leave. He would at least see that Kiba had left the bar unscathed, for Hinata's sake. He felt bad enough already that he was delaying Kiba's return home, knowing full well that the ex-heiress for the Hyuuga family was probably stuttering at an alarming rate at the moment.
Ducking beneath the short curtains that adorned the top of the door entrance, Shikamaru made a quiet exit, his fingers already unconciously scrabbling for the cigarette package in his flak jacket.
"What color should I pick out fer your coffin, Shikamaru?"
Damn it. He should've known that Kiba would get the last word, with the brains and ego of a growing teenager.
Shikamaru gave him the finger as a parting gesture and turned the corner, walking towards the direction of his apartment.
"Just pick the cheapest one."
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