Asking To Be Drowned
"Guys can smell desperation. It triggers an instinct in them to run far and fast so they aren't around when a woman starts peeling apart her heart. They know she'll ask for help in putting it back together the right way - intact and beating correctly - and they dread the thought of puzzling over layers that they can't understand, let alone rebuild. They'd rather just not get blood on their hands.
But sharks are different. They smell the blood of desperation and circle in. They whisper into a girl's ear, "I'll make it better. I'll make you forget all about your pain."
Sharks do this by eating your heart, but they never mention this beforehand. That is the thing about sharks."
― Janette Rallison, My Fair Godmother
Somewhere deep in the market district of Kirigakure, a dark stone building took up a corner of a square, with wide wooden windows and heavy clanking heard inside. The constant freezing wind caused many inhabitants to eat their food on the steps closer to the blacksmiths, due to the scalding heat of the machines inside. The chimney puffed heavy smoke into the mists and while the entrance was open and wide enough to fit a carriage through, the lack of lighting and clear air shrouded it in a cloak of soot.
Inside, Mydrea Kuzuri had just finished loading the quenching tank in the forge. Dull curls and grains of metal winked at her while she dusted them lazily away and then made her way to the front of the store. Out there, her sensei's oldest worker, Sakon grunted a greeting at her, making his way back to where she had just come. His bald head was gleaming even outside of the forge's sweltering humidity, and his cold brown eyes seemed to match the rough purple hakama that lay at his waist. A heavy leather apron, a little more worn than Kuzuri's was all he wore on his top half.
She patted his arm as they passed in a familiar manner and slumped into the chair he had vacated behind the thick timber wood counter. The entire building was held together by similar thick joints of wood, mostly in origin from old ships and barges. Watching the retail part of the blacksmith's was usually exponentially boring, but after working in the forge since before dawn and missing lunch, the cooler, brighter front store was like the planes of Kami.
Apart from the battered tables and shelves at the sides of the room, the store was an open space, Kuzuri's view from the desk directly opposite the wide open doors. Ornamental weapons that were more for show and blunter items like armour and cleaning kits were displayed; more common items like senbon and kunai were kept in the storerooms or under the desk. Usually their regulars were shinobi or porters buying in bulk before a mission, though commissions for important figures of the village weren't uncommon. In fact, Kuzuri's sensei had built a national reputation for himself in Water country. The craftsmanship and love for his work that he had produced many a formidable weapon. Even one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, Akebino Jinin's defence, Kabutowari was created by her sensei. As of consequence, many of the elite jonin in the team bought from Rasen Tatsuo's Armory. To wield a creation of this crafter was a gift.
And somehow, Kuzuri had ended up as apprentice to him.
A slightly breeze was billowing into the store, the only part of it in pristine condition was of metal and leather. Kuzuri pulled out a battered book thicker than her wrists and flipped it open with the dark leather cord inside. The action fluttered the ringlets of her face as her soft, feminine hands stroked the paper-
Woah woah woah. Hold up for a second; 'Soft hands?' I'm a bloody blacksmith's girl, not a geisha! What am I, the damsel of some prissy tragedy?
Mydrea Kuzuri ain't a noble who can't even lift a hammer!
And for the record, my hands are not soft. They're calloused, with blunt nails that are charred and dirty. I don't need them breaking when I work! Honesty.
I'd also like to point out, that I fucking hurt all over. And I mean it; being an apprentice isn't all that's cracked up to be. Sure, its an honour and gets me out of dying as a kunoichi, even if I at least last my chunin exams. So sue me, I'd prefer to make blades rather than wield them. There are 5 other kids in the family, all older! So what is one of them isn't throwing kunai around other than for practice?!
I guess it kind of helped that Sakon once heard me go on a rant about the 'beauty of forging' and all that, and told Tatsuo about me. So after deciding to humour me after I badgered him about being worthy and showing him all my designs (it also helped that I could draw) he eventually gave me a chance. I'm pretty sure that it was just to see me squirm and fail after the first day, but I stayed and persevered. And somehow, I became sensei's actual apprentice.
I know, badass, right? I must be like a master forger, with my own rep and adoring shinobi fans after 4 years with Tatsuo.
Hah. Good joke.
Yeah.
Reality check here; it takes years and years to perfect even just making nails and drilling holes guys. You know what happened when I first (and lastly) complained to sensei about this? I got sent to the leather makers to slather fat and manure on hides for three weeks. Joy. Sakon just pinched his nose and grinned like the asshole he is.
Sakon is a lot older than me, as in mid thirties. He's no shinobi, being from a non ninja family who were labourers, but he's built like an oxen. Then again, when Tatsuo's not there, he does most of the heavy lifting. I mean, I'm strong fro my age and gender, but I still struggle.
A little.
Back to what I was saying about not being feminine? Yeah, I'm not very kunoichi like. My arms are covered in burn marks and white scars, but none are from serving the village on missions and such. They're also very muscular. Like, manly muscles. And in my work clothes, that consist of men's hakama, an apron and a lose vest with no sleeves, it's kind of obvious. You've got all these slender kunoichis that train in endurance and stealth and all that shit (yes I know that I did at the academy as well), who are all like 5'5" and here I am running around after work at the taverns and rowdy lower class. Actually, I am 5'6" now, but I'm almost 13. That's a lot of growing to do still.
I do still have my hitai-ate…somewhere.
I growl myself as my hairband disturbs the silence by pinging off dramatically and disappearing in a dark corner. This is practically a routine around this time with my hair. With a grumble at having to move my sore muscles even an inch, I retrieve it, tie a few more knots into it and pull up the chaos that is my hair into a severely high and tight pony tail before plaiting it. Most people around here have pin straight, thin hair that either sticks up or hangs down flat. Oh no, not me. One, its curly. And thick. As in, you can lose a hand if you lose sight of it in there. Two, it also hates wind. And heat. And rain. Which is basically the day to day forecast in Hidden Mist, and what kind of blacksmith's isn't hot, right?
It may be sentient as well. That's still just a theory, though.
I'm ok with the colour. Brown, chestnut I guess with bits of gold here and there if I'm feeling pedantic. However my hair makes me look paler than I am, which I don't really need. I practically glow, you know. Not very stealthy or ninja like at all.
My eyes are blue. Not aquamarine, not striped with lilac, or stars or any unicorn's blood. Just blue, ok?
Don't even ask about my name. Mydrea Kuzuri – Warrior and wolverine? Um ok, my family name, no pressure right? And Kuzuri is a guys name! Damn you dead parents that I don't really remember. Though Sekon said my temper kinda matches.
Anyway, you get the picture, blah blah blah I stand out. Oooh look at the gigantic dude with breasts. Isn't that the girl who failed her kunoichi seducing training? Is that hair sentient? Calm down stupid fellow citizens. As if I'm the weird one in this village. Please.
Tatsuo sensei seems to be back from a summoning with the Mizukage. Yeah, he's that cool. Not that he ever takes me along to show my designs, oh nooo.
Hn.
Hearing his voice in the back talking to Sekon makes my gaze wander from my book in mild interest until I freeze.
Oh shit. Kami. Fuck fuckididilly crap.
Sure, we get Akebino Jinin come in here with Kuriarare Kushimaru occasionally to restock on supplies, but their not this… terrifying. Wait that's a lie, Kuriarare is massive and all of the swordsmen are pretty sadistic. But none of the others are this…
Blue.
And…fishy.
I thought that their serrated teeth didn't bother me but his aren't artificially sharpened and are…shark like. They look much more viscous on him.Hoshikagi Kisame's that is. Whose standing in the store. Grinning, no smirking sadistically.
That's not good.
"H-hello." I coughed, trying to clear the squeak from my voice. Has that ever happened before? "Can I help you?"
Now his expression reaches his eyes. Great, I amuse the deadly student of Suikazan Fuguki. "Possibly." His voice was gravelly, but adolescent and reminded me that he was probably 17 maybe. "My sensei sent me. Tatsuo sama is expecting me, you know where he is, gaki?"
I was all ready to reply and shove him in the right direction until he said that. "'Gaki'?" I hissed, forgetting whom I was addressing. "You calling me that?!"
Kisame's eyes widened in surprise. Today Fuguki sensei had arranged for him to meet Tatsuo to make him a new blade, seeing how he had grown out of his last one. While he had never personally met him, he'd of course heard of the craftsman, and Jinin had mentioned that he had taken a chunin as an apprentice. It was only allowed for her to no longer be a ninja since she had apparently shown a natural talent in the art of weaponry. Kisame would be lying if he said that he wasn't curious about the shojo.
He certainly hadn't expected the odd looking gaki who had just sassed him.
Though maybe that was a little rich coming from a walking and talking shark. She was very muscular for a female ninja, heck even for a little girl, and her limbs seemed to be growing faster than the rest of her. Curls that would tightly wrap around his fingers created a halo around her, long enough to disappear behind the desk even when he towered over her. How she had fought and worked with such a length, Kisame had no idea. Her face was round and unlike the rest of her tough physique, was chubby like a baby's, all the features large but for the nose that seemed squashed into her face.
In short, she was adorable in a bratty sort of way, and this would be too fun for Kisame. His face pulling into a dark snarl, he launched himself at her, pulling her over the desk and holding her in the air by her neck. Even without her face being right in front of him, he could tell that she was terrified, hell she reeked of fear. Kuzuri clawed at his wrists and kicked about as she tried to find purchase in the air with her feet, to no avail. She tried shouting for her sensei or Sekon, but the hand around her neck only viscously tightened.
Kisame's black pupils locked onto Kuzuri's as he growled playfully. "Yes I am, gaki. Question is, were you really just talking to me in that tone?"
Kuzuri whimpered and tried replying, but only raspy air came out. A shudder ran through her when the land shark chuckled darkly. This is it, she thought he's going to kill me and possibly eat me now.
Her constant writhing in his grasp didn't seem to bother him, and now tears trailed down her cheeks in shame.
And then she was knocked away against the counter when a very large, Tatsuo sized blur tackled Kisame, knocking him to the floor. Kuzuri gasped and hyperventilated as Sekon appeared as well, pulling her to support herself against him. Standing before Kisame, Rasen Tatsuo stood at his full 6 feet of labouring muscle, burn marks and seared flesh coating his charred brown flesh. His hair was dark and was long enough to be pulled into a tight top knot, while geometrical tattoos were littered all over his body. He was in his formal clothes after seeing the Mizukage, which were black and billowed around his frame while several melee weapons hung at his waist and back.
Kisame, immediately recognising the blacksmith, rose to his feet and bowed. "Tatsuo-sama."
Tatsuo's dark eyes were narrowed as he looked over Fuguki's student. "Any reason for man handling my workers, boy?" His voice was deep like a bear's.
Kisame grimaced internally. He really should've sensed the two men in the building. "The gaki was rude to me."
Kuzuri pounced away from Sekon who muttered a 'get back here' and pulled her back. In return, Kisame gave her another toothy smirk.
Tatsuo watched this exchange suspiciously. "Really now? Kuzuri kun usually only bites when provoked." He took a step forward, not in the least intimidated that the 17 year old was close to reaching his height. "Any more trouble, and you'll find the sword I give you fails you at a vital moment, boy. You got that?"
Kisame repressed a snarl, simply nodding. While this man was not a ninja, he was his senior and an important member of the village.
Tatsuo seemed satisfied with this. "Good. Follow me to the back; we'll talk more about your weapon preferences there. Kuzuri, back to work. Sekon, I want you to collect that order of oak from the recent lumber. Go."
They both nodded, however both warily watched Kisame as they followed orders. Kuzuri opened her discarded book, though her eyes never left Kisame's as he trailed behind Tatsuo into the forge. The look in them was hungry for a fight, and made her disappear to help Sekon very soon afterwards.
By the time they had returned, the shark nin was gone.
Hello readers, I hoped you liked this little story that came to my head the other day. This was originally a one shot, but if people like, it I may expand it into a story. The icon picture for this story was painted by me some time ago, and while I thought it could represent Kuzuri in my mind, I'll admit that it does look like a female kisame. Bleh oh well!
Please review and tell me what you think.
Thank you!
Love,
Renzin xo