Discalimer: Naruto and all related (c) Masashi Kishimoto and Company. No profit has been made on this fan-made fiction.

A/N: OooKay. Oneshot. Kisame. His little sister. Need i say more?

OoOoOo

A fire blazed in the muggy summer night. Kisame, infamous Ex-ninja of the Mist Village, virtually tore off his cumbersome Akatsuki cloak and all but collapsed on the ground. Itachi, as always, calmly, slowly sat down with his back to a tree trunk. Knowing that Itachi would take the first watch, Kisame closed his eyes and, in the darkness, memories crept up as they have for years.

OoOoOo

I strapped on my sandals as slowly as I could, prolonging my departure. My younger sister sat nearby, in the shadow of the inner archway to their home, and watched. I glanced behind at her, my mistake. She sat with her arms wrapped her knees, her impossibly big blue eyes stared out with an eerie calm.

"I'll be back," I said, though I don't know why I did.

"Yes."

I looked back again, and I almost reconsidered. This mission was nothing; a competent Chuunin could easily complete it. But I am an ANBU now, and at age fourteen! I had a lot to prove. And in the Village of the Bloody Mist, it's do, or die. I rose, and stood awkwardly in the threshold, half-in and half-out. I looked back and saw her the blue of her eyes freeze over.

I hated when she got like that. My Little Tsukiko, cold and emotionless. Like a Shinobi. Law 25: A Shinobi Never Shows His Emotions. I hated the fact that she thought she had to be strong. I hated when she tried to protect herself. But I knew. I knew that it won't work. Not allowing your emotions to show doesn't mean that they're not there. She was only three-years-old after all. She was afraid. I turned away.

I shouldered the Samehada and opened the sliding door, letting in a gust of icy wind. It skimmed over my cheek, and I shuddered. My "modified" body was strong, but it had its weaknesses. Being cold-blooded was one of them. A real pain in the ass when you consider that I was a ninja of the Bloody Mist, where it snowed year-round. It got real cold, real fast.

"I'll be back," I said again, knowing my words would have know effect.

"Yes," she said again, a breath of steam hovering over her mouth.

I stepped out onto the 4-inch snow, my sandals crunch-crunch-crunching. I leaped into the air and the wind pulled her words into my ear. "You have to."

OoOoOo

A year had passed, and I became one of the chosen few to join the newly assembled Seven Swordsmen. Besides Zabuza, I was the youngest in the group and most of the others would tease me about it.

"Hey, Brat! Why don't you just go home?"

"A Shinobi's life isn't for a kid like you!"

I didn't care about that; i wouldn't deserve to be a ninja if I broke with only a few sharp words. The worst part was when they tried to tease Tsukiko. For the first few months I tried to keep her at home, not to spare her the images of death. I never hid my true self to her. But I tried to keep her from becoming a target of their "practice." She wouldn't listen to me though, she did as she wanted whenever she wanted. As we trained she would always sit nearby, watching, always watching. Zabuza was the worst, sometimes going so far as charging her. His sword would stopped right above her head, dropping farther as the attacks became more frequent. She didn't bat an eye.

Later, after his latest defeat at trying to scare her, he turned to me and growled, "Most Shinobi trained rigorously so that killing mercilessly would become second nature to them; that, that girl was born with that nature."

I looked over to where Tsukiko was watching Raiga and that little kid, Suigetsu, spar. Her eyes followed the movements easily, and she mouthed the words as they shouted the names of their techniques.

Mizu Bunshin no Jutsu.

Suiton: Suiryoudan no Jutsu.

"Yeah," I agreed. "A natural."

OoOoOo

My father's words echoed in my ears, and I could clearly picture the exact moment he said them.

OoOoOo

It was a late winter night that she had been born. All around was the sound of wind whistling threw the leafless trees and the steady thud of hail on rooftops and against windowpanes.

Father held the child as Mother slipped into a fevered sleep, one she wouldn't wake up from. I was only thirteen at the time and I was amazed that my father had let me witness the birthing. Why? I thought, and then I supposed that it was because he knew Mother would die. But what was it really? I wonder now. Father hadn't loved Mother, nor did I. What would it matter if I watched her die?

I had to stand on my toes to see over my father's broad shoulder and at that moment I gasped. Her eyes! They were open. She hadn't been existed half an hour ago. She couldn't possibly open her eyes this early.

"She has the Spirit of the Moon in her," my father said, gazing deeply into my younger sister's bottomless ice blue eyes. "The Spirit of Water and of the Moon are intertwined. She is the future, or the end."

OoOoOo

I remember the moment so well, and I still wonder what that meant. Spirit of the Moon? Is he speaking of Tsukiyomi, the God of the Moon? I don't know, and likely I'll never know. I left the Village over a decade ago.

OoOoOo

Springtime had come, and it was warm enough to rain, rather than snow. Tsukiko stood between me and the outer gates of the Village. Her chin-length bangs were plastered to her face and the rest of her ebony hair whipped wildly in the air.

"You have to stay," even in the middle of a tempest she spoke clearly.

"I can't," I told her. "Don't follow." I ran past her, through the gates, gone.

OoOoOo

But she wouldn't listen to me. She does what ever she wants whenever she wants. She follows, and she watches.

OoOoOo

A/N: Hmm, what do you think? Should this remain a Oneshot? Or should it continue? And yes I know Tsukiko is a Mary-sue. You don't need to tell me that.