Disclaimer: If it looks familiar I don't own it (even if I wish I did :( )

My eyes darted from side to side, searching for the guard in the near darkness. His shadowed figure raised a small object to his mouth and I had to stifle a cough as the sharp stench of smoke filled my nose and blocked one of my best senses. It was an awful feeling, not being able to smell—almost like running blind.

"Forty-seven, step forward!" A rough voice spat in my general direction.

I blinked my eyes slowly as a tendril of fear tried to crawl itself up into my chest, only for me to squash it down violently. I had learnt long ago that fear got you nowhere but dead.

A low grumbling drowned out my shuddering breath as the metal doors in front of me were dragged apart. The thin line of light between them growing stronger until the opening was just large enough for me to walk through. Without waiting for my eyes to adjust, I stepped forward and was immediately enveloped in the roaring of the crowd.

They were everywhere.

Every piece of scum from the streets littered the stands as they jeered and taunted. Their voices ricocheted off of the dirt walls and ceilings of the underground arena. I found the large cave rather fitting: a pretty little shithole for the dirty bastards.

My eyes slid over them uninterestedly as I looked for the only audience members that mattered as the door slid shut behind me with a threatening hiss. There, set aside in their own velvet box, they sat. Their silk robes flowed over the edges of their seats and their unnaturally white teeth shone like lights against the surrounding filth. These were the men that controlled everything; the smug bastards who could end any of our lives with a mere wave of their hands and I hated them for it. Which is exactly why I was going to put on my best show for them. If this life had taught me anything, it was that being noble was useless if the only ones left to see your "good deeds" were the glazed eyes of those who would never raise a finger to help you.

I snapped to attention as a piece of the wall on the other side of the arena slid away. Studying the person who came through carefully, I took in every detail from the way that they moved to the look in their eyes. At first glance, the little boy looked like someone who could be easily dismissed. His floppy brown hair fell into his eyes and his rounded face made him look younger than he was. My first instinct was to roll my eyes and scoff; this was really the best they could come up with? Some four-foot nothing piece of skin and bones that seemed more likely to be blown over by a stray gust of wind than put up an actual fight? He looked like the perfect easy target. Then again, I thought with a slow smirk, so did I. We both knew that looking weak and being weak were not the same thing, just the fact that we had gotten this far in the fights should have proven that.

We circled each other slowly as the commentator rambled on about track records, winding up the crowd until they screamed themselves raw. A vision flashed behind my eyes of their voices tearing through their windpipes with thick claws as they rushed outwards, leaving the men choking on globs of blood. I smiled cruelly, wouldn't that be nice.

Instead, the horn was sounded and we stilled. The nameless boy and I locked eyes, completely immobile, making the arena drop into silence, waiting. Just as they began to lose patience and the first insult echoed through the air, he moved. The boy was fast.

He was before me in an instant, hand outstretched to grab for my throat. I ducked beneath his arm and threw my elbow at his ribs with enough strength to break them clean in half. His sharp reflexes saved him as he pushed himself harder into the lunge and jumped out of the way. The move cost him as he landed in a messy roll, scrambling to get back onto his feet. I didn't give him a chance to as I pounced. We wrestled on the floor and I tried to get a firm hold on his neck but his fist flashed up to the back of my head and grabbed my hair, yanking it back. Gritting my teeth, I ignored the flare of pain and ripping sensation as I held steady, keeping him pinned.

For a moment, I thought I had won as my fingers finally closed around his neck, his wide brown eyes popping and mouth opening in surprise. I very well could have if he hadn't pursed his lips together, cheeks hollowing, and spat. Right into my eyes. I shrieked in disgust and frantically tried to wipe my eyes on the shoulder of my shirt, but the damage was done and I found myself trapped under him. A sickening crack cut through the cheering that had started back up at some point as my right arm was caught between my back and the ground. Blinding pain emanated from my shoulder as the boy's added weight, slight as it was, put pressure on it and a choked whine left my mouth before I could stop it. I struggled uselessly against his grip as it got harder and harder to breathe. My mind clouded by panic, I clawed at his hands trying desperately to rip them from my neck.

All rational thought fled as the need for air took down each of my senses. My vision began to swim with black dots and my lips turned numb. The rising yells of excitement from the crowd suddenly seemed like too much and I wanted to clench my hands firmly over my ears.

They yelled for him to push harder, hold tighter, kill me faster. They wanted me to die, revelled in it. That thought sparked my fury back like a rabid dog and focused my thoughts. I forced all of my strength into my left leg, yanking it out in a violent kick and wrapped it around his back, using it as leverage to pull him towards me. His neck landed near my nose and in a fraction of a second I had my teeth clamped around it. A shrill wail registered in the back of my mind as I shredded his flesh, pulling backwards and away with his wind-pipe clamped between my jaws. I imagined it was theirs, all those men in the bleachers watching us tear each other apart and enjoying it.

The thump of his body hitting the ground rung out like a gunshot in the silent room.

Fangs stained red with his blood were exposed as my lips pulled back into a sneer. The men in the expensive clothes murmured amongst themselves and had their lackeys scrambling to jot down their every word. Oh yes, I thought as I walked back out of the arena, I had certainly made an impression.

….

Eight years ago...

The first few weeks had been a blur of colors and odd noises. I had found myself barely able to hold on to a single solid thought before everything would crumble back into a mess of confusion. It was like being stuck between sleep and consciousness, that state where everything seems just a little bit off but you're too out of it to process what's wrong. Until, suddenly, you feel like someone pushed you off the edge of a cliff and you wake up screaming like an idiot.

Unfortunately, this lethargic state and being half-asleep had more in common than I would have liked, because I did wake up screaming. I really should have realized it sooner, the giant, people-shaped blurs and the soft mumble of what I had known to be words but couldn't understand were both fairly obvious clues that I was not in Kansas anymore. I think I must have scared the crap out of the lady who had been carrying me when I finally understood.

I was a baby.

A baby. As in that small, useless creature that does nothing but eat and shit for the first seven months of its life. You know, the one that usually turns into an adult, not the other way around. To this day I still can't tell you how or why it happened, but it did. So, once I had pitched my little fit, I put my big girl panties back on and got to work.

By the end of the month I was walking and talking like a pro. The adults called me a genius and I was all but worshipped for the rest of my life.

Or not.

Have I mentioned how difficult it is to do anything as a baby? I'm not just talking about complicated things like crawling either, I mean something as simple as sitting up. Try doing that with underdeveloped muscles and no motor skills.

I would sit in my little wooden crib and struggle for as long as I could before my body would just decide to give out and shove me back into unconsciousness. It was often in this state that the woman found me, gently shaking me awake before feeding me with a bottle.

She was pretty, I'd giver her that, but the hard edge behind her light blue eyes made them seem cold and unpleasant. Her blonde hair, much like mine used to be, was left loose so that it fell neatly to her waist. She was the first person in this strange place that I learned to hate.

….

I woke to the guard's voice ringing through the cells as the sun began to peek through the barred windows. There were no sleepy mumbles or whines of complaint, only the quiet scuffling of feet trying desperately to remain unnoticed while hurrying to obey. It sounded rather like rats to me.

I clucked my tongue in disdain, brushing it against the roof of my mouth. That's when I noticed the coppery flavor still clinging to my teeth. With a start, I realized I had not been able to wash the blood out from last night. That boy's blood was still in my mouth. Utter disgust made my stomach churn and breath quicken. That boy's blood was still in my mouth.

I shook my head stubbornly and pushed my revulsion down with the same harsh control that I had used on my fear. Knuckles white and arms shaking, I hung on to the bars of my cell and forced my emotions away until there was nothing else. Slowly, I stilled.

I was just in time as the loud bell echoed through the hall and all of the cells opened. Like a herd of zombies, we shuffled down the long hall to the cafeteria for breakfast. Just as I was passing the set of guards on either side of the door one of them threw out their arm and grabbed my shoulder.

A hiss of pain left my lips as he held on to the same shoulder that I had injured last night. Luckily, it had only been dislocated so I had popped it back into place after the fight but it was still damn sore. He glared at me through hooded eyes and roughly moved me to the side.

No explanation was given, not that I was expecting one, so I stayed, grumbling silently and stomach clenching in hunger as the others passed. Eventually, I was the only one left and the guard once again yanked on my injury to drag me down a side hall.

I ignored my discomfort and immediately did my best to memorize the unfamiliar surroundings. We were never allowed to wander past the cages, the dining hall, and the arena so this path and wherever we were going were entirely new to me. The only thing that I could do was remain on guard and hope that my suspicions of what was going on were right.

Finally, we stopped in front of a polished metal door. The guard knocked and we waited for a good ten minutes before it swung open and I was shoved inside. For the second time I had to repress a cough as heavy smoke invaded my lungs. It was so thick here that the grey tendrils curled around me blocking both my sense of smell and my vision. All the same, I managed to make out a group of about five large black figures sitting comfortably on plush chairs and taking drags from pipes attached to a golden ball. What were those called again? Hookahs? Yeah, that was it. The damn thing looked expensive too, covered in the shimmering of precious metals and stones. One of the shadows looked at me and waved me over with a lazy motion. Smug son of a bitch.

I walked cautiously towards them, the sound of their voices rising and sharpening as I drew nearer. The crisp drawl of the high class dialect they were using grated on my nerves. I held back my scowl and focused instead on keeping my face as blank as possible as I studied these overprivileged asses. They were all the same, all except one. Cloaked in layers of black that covered him from head to toe, his ginormous form sat further back than the rest, silent and unmoving. Not to mention he was staring a hole through the side of my head. Slowly, he raised an arm revealing a single hand the size of a dinner plate and heavily decorated with scars.

My eyes widened slightly as I realized why he had been giving me such an odd feeling; he wasn't a businessman or noble. All the others fell into a scared sort of hush until the man closest to me nervously cleared his throat.

"You are contestant forty-seven?" He stammered, the fat under his chin giggling as he spoke. How disgusting.

I just nodded in response.

"You have done quite well to make it so far!" He clapped his hands in false enthusiasm as he continued. "You have even drawn the attention of a sponsor!"

Throughout the weak man's little speech, my eyes did not once leave the dark man with the scars. I knew exactly what he was and that knowledged stirred feelings of both excitement and absolute terror within me.

"He will be in charge of you from this point on so that you can enter the next bracket."

Those cold eyes that spoke of horrors beyond my imagination contained a power that I wanted desperately.

"Now introduce yourself to Master Kakuzu."

They were the eyes of a shinobi.

...

A/N: Whooo feels nice to have finished that :) I've been meaning to start this story for a while now but I could never get it just right... anyway let me know how I did!

R&R and I'll do my best to respond!