Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Nine years it had been, since she had been missing. The Weapons Mistress of Konoha.
Nine years.
He gazed at her as if the years had sped by since her betrayal and her desertion. She laughed mentally now as she remembered his dissatisfaction of the city and the irony that he stayed but she didn't. They didn't speak but the question hung in his eyes.
Why did you leave?
She knew his confusion, her being the seemingly courageous, happy teammate. It was funny she could still read what he was thinking, their training of being teammates had drummed that into her.
She felt the caress of his blade against hers and she felt the strange nostalgic twist of fear against those pale eyes, She replied to him through her blade, her fight mocking, her flippant body language that shown she wasn't seriously thinking he was a worthy opponent but the sight of him tore through her like a old open wound.
But he was something she buried long ago. She wasn't that girl that was clung to his every word, nor did she care for his opinion anymore. She was a grown woman now. A woman that could hold her own. That wasn't just...
Just like a tool, you are replaceable.
She remembered his words. She had fought hard and she had tried but she never got his approval.
Why did I leave? Well why the hell not?
He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to fathom her. His strokes of his blade became increasingly vicious.
Stop playing games. Answer the question.
She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow but carried on fighting him in her relaxed style. His face flickered with impatience and annoyance.
Boredom. It was boredom.
He stopped suddenly, studying the top of her head.
So it was boredom?
She tilted her head in response to his question.
Mmm..Hm.
Tell me seriously Tenten. Fight me seriously.
He took his stance and he charged at her, his purpose clear. To kill.
Your my enemy now.
But she felt like that girl child again, that couldn't help but be rooted to the spot, drowning in admiration at his child prodigy form.
You were dead to me, long ago.
She stared upward at his pale eyes as she felt his blade sink into her. He made a grunt of suprise.
Just like a tool.
He thought she would have moved.
You are replaceable.
She made no scream of pain but he spoke, his voice low and scratchy like a tired bird that sang in the morning and at night. His bleary eyes holding a mixture of remorse and contempt.
"Sayonara Chīmumeito."
Goodbye teammate.
