Disclaimer: Naruto and its Characters Don't Belong to Me.
One: Tora the Cat was an Adrenaline Junky
If Tora had been human, the expression she gave as she dodged yet another pair of grubby hands would have closely resembled vindictive satisfaction. As it was, her whiskers merely twitched upwards, filthy form darting through a hole in the wooden fence blocking her way. The alley was a supposed Dead End, but she knew these streets well; after all, she'd been running through them since before she was a kitten.
Tora remembered each of her eight lives as clearly as she remembered her life before she'd become a cat; that is: Perfectly.
Opening your once-blind eyes to a world that was so much bigger than you and discovering that you are little more than a ball of fluff- well, it's understandably horrifying. However, the terror she had felt at being lifted into the arms of a squealing fat woman was beyond words. So beyond, in fact, that all Tora could do was howl pitifully, tiny body shaking with the effort. The idiot woman practically gushed, immediately calling the kitten 'adorable' and laughing as the 'little tiger' began viciously accosting the servant she was handed off to.
She'd taken the first opportunity to escape, of course, but was ultimately caught by a bunch of rowdy children, who soon learned that the feline gave as good as she got. Thus began a long hate/hate relationship with the Konohagakure shinobi, most notably, their gennin. Frankly, she enjoyed her frequent 'visits' to Konoha with a passion that bordered on obsession.
Tora was currently on her ninth life, a feat few cats aspired to, and, as with how all her lives ended, she was making a run for it. This time though, she was pretty sure there would be no coming back.
Tora pounced, pulling her paws up under her belly with an agility far too quick to be that of a normal cat, flinging herself through the air to avoid the netted trap the stupid humans had laid down for her. 'Really,' Tora sighed inwardly, 'standards seem to be getting lower and lower these days.'
She flew around a corner, running up a stack of conveniently placed fruit boxes and leaping lithely onto a nearby roof. The bright pink bow tied tightly to her right ear bobbed with the movement, refusing to come loose, the damned thing. She ignored the resulting startled shout of the vendor as the shinobi brats barreled uncontrollably into his wares, too busy soaring over the rooftops to preen as she was usually want to do.
Though the thought of inflicting more tedious work on the dull-witted gennin was enough to elect an inward purr, Tora was on a tight schedule.
And she had every intention of reminding the foolish children tracking her exactly why she was dubbed: "The Cat from Hell".
It might involve having them caught in their own explosives, but that was only plan E. She was, however, already on plan C, so she would have to hurry if things were really escalating so quickly.
Tora slipped through a nearby window, soft paws barely grazing the trap she knew to be there, before bouncing off again. It triggered a moment afterwards, hurling fifteen sharp hunks of metal into the face of the unsuspecting victim on her tail. The bright haired child squawked indignantly when his scowling teammate jerked him out of the way. An unfortunate happenstance, to be sure, but the feline wasn't there to see it. She was just a splash of brown and pink through the adjacent window, the A-Class traps of the Jonnin who dwelled in this apartment going off like fireworks.
Tora rushed onwards, adrenaline pounding through her small body with each beat of her heart. She could feel the whoosh of air in her lungs, the press of the wind through her fur.
This was what she lived for.
That, and the children's (and occasional adult's) humiliation.
If anyone had bothered to ask, Tora would have been the first to admit that she was, without a doubt, a thrill junky. She didn't have to be found. She just wanted her next fix. And what could give her that fix better than a bunch of angry, knife-wielding, murders-in-training?
Certainly not the Fire Daimyo's wife.
An involuntary shiver traveled down her spine despite herself. It caused her to lose her footing on the uneven tile she'd landed on, slipping until she was thrown from the roof into the alley below.
She landed on her feet, as always, but hissed viciously when three pairs of sandaled feet thudded down around her.
The cat looked from one hapless prey to another, back arching threateningly when the slim girl-child of the team tried to inch closer. It was murmuring soothing-nothings that sounded far too much like curses under its breath, quick green eyes narrowed in concentration. The black-haired one stood stiffly at the alleys entrance, arms bleeding from the scratches received in the last skirmish. His eyes burned with something not unlike hatred, but intense dislike and annoyance were more likely. His clan loved cats, after all. The last rubbed at his ear where she had bitten him, his deceptive petulance belaying his intense blue stare. Unpredictable, that one was.
Individually, the murder-lings were simple to outpace. Boorish, even.
But together?
They might even be formidable.
Tora scoffed inwardly. They would be no match for her; not with her life at stake as it is. Her teeth pulled back over her long fangs, fur bristling along her spine as she released a savage howl. They would rue the day they picked a fight with a tiger.
Tora reared back with a spitting hiss…
and attacked!
AN: Something amusing that popped into my head. Could be a oneshot, though I set it up for more chapters if I feel inclined. Unedited. If you catch anything or would just like to review, feel free to do so!
~Delgodess