"until you've crawled in the
darkest
dirtiest
deepest
corners of my mind
you'll never know
how i really feel."
- s.b
She'd always wanted to see the beautiful white mountains of the Land of Snow.
Under different circumstances, of course.
In her previous day dreams, she was with her father, or her teammates. Maybe even Sakura, or a cute guy. They'd spend their nights at a lodge, and their days climbing the mountain sides. Snow ball fights would be in order.
However, after receiving Lady Tsunade's news, going alone only made sense. From here on out, her life would be centered around her bucket list, and every gorgeous destination named that called out to her.
She hoped she'd be able to finish it in time.
He's built for harsh climates. Trudging throughout massive, unforgiving snowfall, he follows his instincts as he's lacking Itachi's former guidance. The Uchiha used to rein in his partner like Kisame was a stray animal in need of proper restraint. Disappointing that he had to die recently at the hands of a certain little brother, but these were inevitable things. Itachi's death, and Kisame's subsequent loneliness. He was doomed to meet his end violently, as well. Kisame only promised himself that when that day came, he'd go out fighting, hard.
It's funny how often death haunts his thoughts, and the surrounding cold that might stifle and overwhelm a lesser man, suited the theme of where his mind was currently at. Men like him can't fear death, they can only embrace it.
Kisame couldn't even recall the last time he's ever been scared of anything.
"Huh?"
Broken out of his private gruesomeness, rounded white eyes slightly narrow, gaze piercing through the thick whiteness. A figure curls up against the ground and across the distance, emitting a faint murmur of chakra. It could be a trap waiting to happen, even if he can't sense any other bodies of chakra nearby. Nevertheless, his curiosity piques, and standard ninja sandals scuffle onward. The bottom of his Akatsuki-styled cloak swivels across layers of landed snow whilst he approaches this nearly lifeless form.
It's a woman.
Blonde hair spills in silken sheets around her, intermingling with the snow. She's covered in heavy layers of clothing suitable for the hectic environment, however, he doesn't smell blood or see any wounds for that matter.
"Hey, blondie," he grumbles, nudging her side with the end of his foot. No response. His foot pushes harder until he manages to get her rolling onto her back, allowing him a good look at her face. Flushed creamy skin, a tiny fairy nose, and soft-looking pink lips. Even passed out, she's undeniably easy on the eyes, and he's not concerned about her; but he does appreciate pretty little things. There aren't any pieces of identification on her. If he were being honest, she didn't look like kunoichi material, even despite her dulled chakra source.
"Alright, what the hell."
A large blue hand emerges from the opening of his cloak, and hooks into her jacket's collar. In a singular fluid movement, he lifts her feather-light weight with ease and tosses her against his sturdy shoulder.
"Dunno what happened to ya, but I'm feeling generous today," he snickers at himself, cradling her physique with a strong, solid arm positioned around her.
The very least he could do was get her out of the painfully frigid storm.