"Can I be angry?"

"Questioning the validity of your emotion is like asking why the sun shines."

Negligence. Negligence and bad luck. Such a combination could ruin any warrior. This particular one should have known better. Bad luck was a reoccurring thing as of late. For him at least: Hoshigaki Kisame. He was a formidable missing-nin, a Swordsman of the Mist, a member of a lethal organization. How could he of all people even be noticed, let alone scratched, by passing jonin returning to Konohagakure? Could it be because one particular jonin had previous knowledge of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist and the sword Samehada? Was it that the lack of sleep that made him careless? Was it because he stuck out against the emerald forest backdrop? Or was it all simply bad luck?

Nonetheless, there he was in a mediocre village at the base of a southern mountain, bleeding, tired, and pissed off. Sure, the swordsman had beaten the three jonin, ripped them to shreds, and set their bodies ablaze leaving only the gut-twisting smell of burnt flesh. But what was the merit for him? Only the slaking of his bloodlust and a waste of time. Kisame barely had any money left and absolutely no food. His taste for food pills disappeared long ago despite their convenience. To make it worse was the throbbing gash in his right arm. Kisame didn't carry a medical kit; he never needed it. He'd either die or there'd be no major wounds at all. This pain was minimal. He'd had worse. Still, he knew leaving it to fester would cause a bigger problem. One jonin had used an acid blade that prevented Kisame's or Samehada's chakra from healing the wound as it usually would. If he had a partner already maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. Kisame growled out a sigh and his stomach rumbled. At least Samehada had a good meal of flesh and chakra from those fallen ninja.

Another dark day in Kaede village. Even at the peak of the day thick clouds blocked out most of the sun. A young woman glanced out the window of her small house on the edge of the village, something she rarely did even on the darkest days. Her eyes wide with alert interest, she picked up the smallest things overlooked by the hoi polloi: the faintest shine of balding skin revealed under the corner of a man's hairpiece after a breeze, a small spider about to make its way into a woman's purse, the fading of an errand boy's uniform smock, and there on the dirt road next to a food vendor was a short trail of black spots. Blood?

This village wasn't the poorest he'd seen, but Kisame wasn't too impressed. At least it was large enough to have a distinct change of class between the upper and lower districts. His black organization cloak covered him from his feet to his chin, and his straw kasa hat covered his head and most of his eyes. Even with all of this concealed the people of the upper district wouldn't answer him straight about a local medic or apothecary. "Ask someone else," they had said, or "try another town." Perhaps it was the aura set off by his boiling blood that put them off. But he couldn't cause a scene. Kisame was to return to base as soon as he could without drawing attention to himself; he didn't want Akatsuki knowing about this little slip up. The deaths of the jonin wouldn't reach their home village until a few days from now. He had time for simple treatment and a meal… If his sanity provided it. The urge to rip up the previous folk was stronger than the last. He should leave the wound alone and just continue on his way, infection be damned. Even with all his practiced good manners, basic animalistic instinct couldn't be ignored for long.

Kisame ventured into the eastern part of the village. He appeared next to the nearest unsavory looking character and asked, "Is there any type of medic in this forsaken dump?"

The street thug jumped in his ragged clothing, startled by the large cloaked man nearly a foot taller than him. The shorter vantage revealed the man's dangerous white eyes when the thug looked up.

With a slight quiver he managed, "Y-yeah. You can't go into the higher class places looking like that though. They don't trust what they can't see." Kisame growled with impatience. "But uh, they say there's a w-woman on the edge of town who has basic skills in healing…"

Kisame walked where the man pointed farther east, ready to hurry out of there. Funny. The little aristocrats had no fear to deny Kisame his needs, but a criminal shook in fear at just his presence. The thug exhaled a sigh of relief when the man was far enough away. "Hey," he yelled out with more confidence. "But I hear she's a witch."

As far away all those tiny things were, the young woman delighted in finding them. Her wandering eyes moved back into her home as she put onto the stove a kettle full of milk. The stove fed on a steady supply of cedar wood and had to be lit manually. She searched around the cluttered counter for the matches. She stopped, distracted, when she saw a single strand of her hair on the counter, twisting and bending in loops. The strand was so long she found one end and followed slowly the length of the hair, her gaze looping and twisting. At the other end she found the matches waiting open for her, as if they had set up the whole trail and openly admitted "Okay you found me!" She smiled in good humor.

She felt the grit of the match head before striking it. The wood slowly got more greedy as it fed on the small flames of the match. A loud clank sounded when she shut the hatch. Had there been another noise? She waited…

It had gotten warmer in the kitchen, but she pulled her jacket tighter. Knocks flooded the door in a quick burst. She winced. She wondered if their knuckles had hurt after. Company usually averted her, not the other way around. She counted the five steps it took to get the door. Without looking through the eyehole she pulled the door open. She wanted it to be a surprise.

The door was opened by an older girl. A younger woman? Kisame didn't care. He just needed what he wanted, wondering if this woman had any capabilities at all. She looked questionable. Her dark brown hair was a disheveled mess, sticking out in every direction. Her skin was entirely pale, most likely from her reclusion, but her eyes were alert and unfaltering. Kisame couldn't see much else. Her drab beige coat covered her from her knees to her nose, almost similar to his. Her clothing looked three sizes too big , since they were baggy and defined no curves of her shape. The coat, being a stiffer material and wider at the bottom, gave her large bell shape. The sleeves were also much too long, going far past her fingertips. What could be seen of her legs looked normal enough.

"You're the witch who knows medicine?" Kisame finally asked, leftover anger from the day still crashing inside him.

She didn't react to the word witch. Maybe she was used to it by now. She only nodded and pointed to a sign behind her. 'No severe/life-threatening injuries.' Kisame took off his hat which she understood as compliance and moved aside to allow him in. The house was somewhat clean, only a few areas piled with useless trinkets. He placed the kasa on some crates by the door and followed the small bell woman into a room just left of the door.

How curious! She could hardly contain herself. She'd seen all various shades of tans, browns, peaches, even red. But blue? Even his hair, a darker cobalt, caught her eye. And his eyes…Usually the only patients she had were mad or criminals. He was a criminal, no doubt, but he was a different breed altogether. The look in his white eyes flowed out it's black ridges and into her brown ones. Still, something seemed different…

She walked him into her tiny clinic only big enough for a bookshelf, a desk and chair, and a narrow medical bed. She and this large man barely fit in. She motioned for him to sit on the bed and went to her desk. A smile spread through her pink lips as she turned her back to him. She reached into her supply kit with anticipation at this new visitor. The young woman openly mused to herself about what this blue man could be like. How exciting!

"Would you prefer not to exchange names?"

Kisame flinched at the voice. Like wooden chimes. It wasn't a displeasing sound; it was just the purest thing he'd heard all day (compared to the screams of those dying men). He realized there was no trick in her tone, no backwards means to coax him into telling her his name as most females would. She sounded as if she was simply taking an order. It was as if she had said, "What would you like to drink?" This was standard procedure.

"Hoshigaki Kisame," he stated without much thought. She seemed oblivious to his identity or even his headband, which was outstanding proof he was a rogue. If she sold him out he'd come back here. She was a recluse, where would she go?

Glass vials clinked around as she searched through her medical box. "Tsubaki Majoko." As her voice chimed again, Kisame settled down. He'd get stitched up and leave in no time. He was expecting some crazy voodoo woman. She turned around raising her slender hands. She had rolled the sleeves up a little. "May I see the wound please, Hoshigaki-san."

He opened his cloak and took out his right arm, ignoring the small twitch of pain. Kisame had wrapped up part of the gash with Samehada's bandages. They had all been soaked though of course. Blood wet and dry smeared his upper arm. New blood was still trickling through. Tsubaki moved the chair next to him so she could begin the healing process. She didn't wince at the blood or grimace while she worked, as most did. She'd cut off the bandages and began preparing a swab of alcohol with a straight face and vigilant eyes. Though her mouth was a hard line, Kisame felt the smile in her eyes.

Now that she was closer to him she forced the smile away. He was so blue she couldn't stand it. Tsubaki grit her teeth. Her fingertips begged to touch his bloody arm with her bare hands. The red was such a beautiful contrast.

"Are you allergic to anything?"

"No."

Tsubaki felt him tense slightly from the cold swab against his skin. She felt it too, sinking through the cotton, and smelled the sharpness of the alcohol. Curiously she glanced up at him. He didn't wince or whine or writhe. He just looked straight with an almost angry expression. The surgical needle and thread Tsubaki had stuck into her rolled sleeves found it's way into her hands as she examined him more. His nose was sharp, but broad, and his chin strong. Above his high cheekbones were black markings like jagged crescents, much like the ones on his shoulder. Kisame finally looked down at her, his upper lip slowly curling into a sneer.

Tsubaki met his eyes shamelessly, taking this chance to study his eyes. Her head was slowly tilting as the light on his white eyes changed. His sneer deepened, which delighted her with the surprise of his pointed teeth. "You might want to hurry up, Witch Tsubaki," he growled. "I think time is healing this wound."

She highly doubted that. Closing her eyes slowly, she smiled and turned back to his open flesh. Tsubaki stared the exposed muscle tissue as she readied the needle. This was always her favorite part.

Majoko's shaking hands reached cautiously for the his wound. Kisame tensed as her cold fingertips came into contact with his tender flesh. They both discreetly bit down on the inside of their bottom lips.

The needle swiftly moved through the tissues of his arm, almost of it's own accord. As the cord pulled through, the flesh slowly closed. Majoko's concentration was firmly set onto not breaking into a nervous fit. Any mistake could be more dangerous for her than it was for him. Kisame merely glanced down at the work before moving his gaze elsewhere. The woman didn't give him any trouble aside from being unnaturally silent for someone of her gender. Maybe it was fear that silenced her.

"Do you make a hobby out of this?" Kisame grunted.

Majoko jerked away, luckily done with the needle. She looked up from the stitches, her face looking tired and listless. "Out of what, Hoshigaki-san?"

He grimaced at her expression before turning away with a sideways smirk. "Fixing up dangerous criminals," he said casually, looking down at her through the corner of his fierce eyes. "It's a little strange...and stupid, Tsubaki."

Kisame chuckled through his jagged teeth before sucking it back in with a hiss. Majoko applied a light, green salve to his mended wound (which had caught him with a sting of surprise) and reached for the bandages. Kisame detected the twitch of satisfaction in her lips. Slowly, she began winding the roll of cloth around his bicep.

"I suppose it is," she answered simply. "But most of my patients have more of a bark than a bite."

Kisame only sucked his teeth at her naive response and regretted making conversation. Clearly he wasn't going to have a very stimulating chat with someone stupid enough to think he couldn't lop their head off in a second. But, Majoko was actually very conscious of the dangers her work entailed. Being so far from the center of the town attracted a number of unsavory characters. Still, she liked to believe she could handle anyone, criminal or otherwise, if they sought out her help. Then again, maybe she really was naive. Tsubaki Majoko became practically blind to anyone past sins if they needed medical attention. It wasn't in her heart. At least, not for most.

As she neared the end of the bandage roll she took a last chance to secretly slide her fingertips from the fibrous material to his firm skin. Being so close made it even more apparent that his chakra reserve was so enormous. Majoko secured the bandage with a knot, trying to hold onto the feeling. Patients were often far and few between and medical gloves sheathed her hands for most procedures, as they should have been this time. So seldom did she come into contact with real human flesh it seemed. There was no lust or attraction in her light touch, just the wanting of the unfamiliar feeling of skin. Of another human being.

Perhaps that was why the oddity of Kisame's color excited her so intensely. Or maybe it was the aura of his chakra filling the room. Majoko laughed inwardly at her own desperation. Becoming a recluse really ups your chance of becoming insane. She had almost forgotten the annoyance that most people were to her.

Flexing his arm out and in, Kisame smirked. "Well, I live to kill another day. Not that I would have died from a little scrape." Majoko barely showed any response as she put away her supplies. "You can consider your spared life payment," his sharp teeth flashed as he laughed.

"That's very kind of you Hoshigaki-san," Majoko replied plainly, taking her seat again. "But since I'm not done yet that wouldn't be fair." She looked up at him with a playful smile with the same tired eyes. "My life for an unfinished treatment? You'd at least have to leave me with a broken leg."

Kisame chuckled at her grim humor. "Sounds like a deal then."

The curve of her smile ghosted away before she moved her hands above his bandaged wound. The moment her hands glowed with chakra she found herself pinned against the wall by her neck. The crashing sound seemed to resonate in her ears hours after the tightening pain of her throat.

"So you are a shinobi?" Kisame sighed. "I get to kill you after all."

Just the very look of his menacing eyes and the glint of his teeth pierced Majoko's insides. Never once had she been so frightened or so very sure that she could never take on a man like Kisame Hoshigaki. Perhaps if years of reclusion hadn't dulled her skills she could. Other rogue patients Majoko could destroy without question, but him? She felt her stomach clench as he reached for his sword with his other hand. She felt embarrassment accompanying her fear. Maybe, she thought, telling him beforehand about my medical jutsu would have been better.

Gasping for oxygen Majoko managed to choke out, "Actually...I'm just...Performing a...A medical technique." She stumbled for balance and coughed violently as his giant fist released her and continued. "I don't know what it means...to truly be a shinobi, I just understand...how to use chakra."

Kisame bellowed and narrowed his eyes with a wicked smile. "How to use chakra, huh? That's still enough to kill someone, but hell, give it another shot." He held out his arm again, almost mockingly. He'd rip her pale skin to shreds before she got the idea to cross him.

The woman nodded and placed her glowing hands above the wound again. Her eyes shut as she flowed her chakra into his and moved them both around the wound, using them both to heal the cut flesh. Kisame looked over just as Majoko peaked her eyes up to his.

"Also, Hoshigaki-sama," she began timidly, wary of another attack. "I doubt even chakra is needed for killing. I think...One only needs murderous intent."

His dark eyes widened and his jagged smirk spread across his face. "Too true you are, little witch."

Majoko calmed her chakra flow and made a motion for him to wait there. The fact that he was a murderer was intensely clear to her now. She panicked only for a moment. Kisame watched her head of tangled brunette tresses recede around the corner and then lifted the bandage with his finger. The cut had completely stopped bleeding and was practically healed altogether, save for one little paper cut-scratch held together with surgical string. He heaved his arm back into the cloak. Surely she could have mended his wound with chakra alone in the first place. Why did she use more conventional means of healing first? He knew better, but didn't stop his mind from wandering.

What made her a witch anyways? She wasn't normal, but Kisame hadn't seen anything that would define her as such. Maybe it was just gossip evolved from her secluded lifestyle. The general public tended to make up the most ridiculous things when faced with something they know nothing about. Kisame heaved a heavy sigh for himself. The night was getting to him.

Majoko returned with a little package wrapped in a banana leaf nestled in the crook of her elbow. With a nod, she led Kisame to the door, where he eagerly crossed the doorway to the awaiting dark of the night.

"See you around, witch Tsubaki," he said wearily.

Before he could turn away, Majoko thrusted the leafed package to him. "I doubt it. Take this. It helps."

Kisame carelessly took it, wanting to hurry and leave but not be so rude as to run off when this recluse offered more kindness. He tucked it in his sleeve and grunted with a tired half-smirk, "You know if it's poisoned I could always come back and kill you before it even effects me."

This was his less rude response.

Majoko shook her head with a quiet laugh, her messy bangs falling over her eyes. "I don't intend to die so soon. I can compare with neither your chakra nor your strength. I'd be as helpless as an ant in a typhoon." She smiled up at him. "I don't find myself important enough to have such an exciting death."

"Well hey, you aren't as dumb as I thought."

She only bowed as respectfully as she could, despite the insult, and he disappeared without another word between the two of them.

Kisame made it back to his route that lead to the Akatsuki base before opening his present from the witch. Still running through the trees in order to make up lost time, Kisame unfolded the banana leaf to find four round lumps slightly stuck together. When he couldn't recognize what they were, he gradually climbed higher in the trees as he ran, eventually making it to the top.

The full moon illuminated the tree tops and nocturnal birds as a cooling breeze swept across the forest. A nearby lake glistened and rippled as a hawk snatched up a late meal in it's tepid waters. Mountains in the far east shone like black diamonds behind the dangerous missing nin. Kisame barely noticed any of the surrounding beauty. He only held up the parcel to inspect it's contents. The light of the evening made them seem purple, but Kisame knew they were pink. The breeze rolled by again, this time stronger, as if coaxing him towards the gift. It's sweet smell wafted to him. Daifuku.

Daifuku? Maybe that woman was crazy, he thought, taking a soft round of the filled mochi. Maybe those townspeople mistook insanity for witchcraft. Still, she wasn't crazy enough to try to kill him. Kisame finally took notice of the sparkling beauty around him as he stood on the tree top, though without much appreciation for it. He gazed at the lake, feeling his fatigue from the day catch up with him. Maybe he would have a quick rest. Kisame lifted the sweet to his mouth and cut through it with a generous bite. He chewed for a bit, letting it spread over his tongue and mouth. Mochi stuck to his teeth and thick azuki paste spread across his tongue. Then he suddenly stopped and winced.

...

"Too sweet."