Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto!!! If I did, I would not be a financially beleaguered college student. I just entertain myself by borrowing them and messing with their lives.
Now then! Hello to all the Naruto fan-dom people. This is my first foray into the wonderful world of Naruto, so I hope you like this and go easy on me. This is an idea I got about Shizune, who I think doesn't get nearly enough recognition for all the madness she has to put up with. :D Anywho, please enjoy!
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Attendant. One who attends or serves.
Attend. To take care of, to accompany, to wait on, to wait upon, to give the required care to.
Shizune was an attendant. She accompanied Tsunade-sama and served her, no matter where she went. For alliance discussions, treaty signing, travel…even in a case such as this, she followed her master to meet with crime-lords.
And dispose of them.
Shizune was highly skilled at what she did. She was the perfect attendant.
Quiet.
Skilled.
Obedient.
Unsuspicious.
She was the quiet, unremarkable attendant of Tsunade-sama. Unremarkable normal features, unremarkable brown hair, unremarkable attire…
Truly unremarkable.
Truly remarkable.
It was truly remarkable just how quickly people dismissed her, even in cases like this, when the men they met with knew that they were considered Konoha's enemies. They all knew that Tsunade-sama was a threat, was to be feared and respected, but Shizune…was just an attendant. She entered with Tsunade-sama, and then just sat quietly behind her, not making a sound. And invariably, every time, she was forgotten. No matter how skilled a person was, no matter how old or suspicious or paranoid or alert or aware a person was…
Invariably, they all forgot her.
Not entirely, though; of course not. No one they met with was quite stupid enough to forget that there was someone else in the room…
But they forgot to consider her as a threat.
Mistake. Such a foolish, beginner's mistake. But it was one she counted on.
As the meetings progressed, as whatever disgusting, murderous or thieving person they met with that day tried to provide excuses for their even more disgusting, murderous or thieving master, she would be forgotten. It never took long, and she could always tell when it occurred. When nothing happened, that person would become complacent, would become cocky and comfortable and blind, and then—
—the eyes stop flicking towards her, the hackles go down, the muscles relax, the breathing slows, the heart rate slows (she can hear it, of course she can, the human body is her specialty) —
—and then they forget to remember that she is a threat.
Mistake. The first and last they will be allowed to make.
The people they met with were never willing to come to Konoha; oh no, never. Konoha was dangerous, was enemy territory, was an assassination just waiting to happen.
Home, however, was safe. Home was their lair, their safe haven. Yes, home was safe.
'Nothing could happen to us here at home.'
That was wrong. That was an amateur's way of thinking. They didn't realize that in the ninja world, no place was safe. Location didn't matter. Home field advantage didn't matter. Time and place and person didn't matter.
A good ninja could kill anyone, in any way, at any time, in any place.
And Shizune was a good ninja.
And like a good ninja, she could tell when the men they met with dismissed her from their minds. She would then wait as they and Tsunade-sama got firmly entrenched in the talks, silently attuned to her master for her cue. And then when Tsunade-sama too was convinced that Shizune had been forgotten, the same question always came.
"Shizune, could you please get us some drinks?"
She would nod, then ask demurely of their hosts where to find the kitchen, take orders, and quietly bow herself out.
Then the hunt began.
Shizune would quickly ghost down hallways, being sure to remain in a submissive position in case she was discovered as she scouted the house for her target…or at least signs of him.
It never took too long. All she had to do was search until she found guards, and then she knew she had found the right place.
There were two large, muscled men standing impassively at the end of one hallway, and Shizune ducked back before she was seen.
Muscle. Yet another sign that whoever they were meeting with was ultimately an idiot. Muscles are controlled by the brain, but in men like these, muscles often meant a lack of brainpower.
Another mistake. What good was all that muscle if the person wasn't confronted? Muscle is only useful if it can be used on someone, but she was never caught.
She was a skilled ninja, so it was easy to slip by the brawny guards—
—stupid choice, such a stupid choice, all they know how to do is fight with force, so what good are they against a lack of force? —
—and make her way to her target.
The muscles weren't completely stupid; they could still see and hear, but they were obviously not ninja. With bodies such as that—
—too big and slow and bulky, impossible to sneak up on anyone in such a body, stealth would be a joke, too large, too many targets to hit, too much space for kunai to be buried in, too slow in a fight—
—there was no chance that they were ninja.
And as such, how could they hope to recognize something like genjutsu?
It was a simple matter, ridiculously simple. All she had to do was scope out the area they "guarded"—
—so inattentive, such failures, embarrassments to the name 'attendant'—
—and then activate a genjutsu so they would see the same empty hallway that they always saw. And all she had to do was slip past them unnoticed—
—stay quiet, even footsteps, constant chakra flow, don't let the illusion drop or falter or waver for even a heartbeat, hold your breath, quiet your heart, mask your presence, so easy, so familiar—
—and then she was at the door. Then she just had to strengthen the illusion, nearly deafen the guards with the illusory silence, open the door, and slip in. There could be no change in her actions, however; rather a mere shift. Once she reached the door, the illusion had to be strengthened, spread, shoved through the door in front of her and into the quiet room of her victim. He must not hear any noise either.
There was always that one moment of danger, of worry and breathless anticipation, hoping that just like the last one, this man too would be too careless and unaware to be watching the door.
And like always, he is. Like every other victim, he is too busy spying on the proceedings of the meeting to think of an attack.
The illusion works perfectly; everything is suspended in the consistent, everyday silence and calmness that these men know. Then it's time for another adjustment to the genjutsu—
—a hard push of chakra, deafen all of them completely as she carefully shuts the door, then ease off, pull back, don't use all of it up, release the visual illusion in the hallway, pull that energy into this room, maintain the silence both out there and in here and blanket the room in an illusion of normalcy—
—and then she is inside, and the hard part is over.
Then it's a matter of making a quick decision. Not whether to kill the man or not; that was never a decision, merely a given. Sometimes these 'trips', these scouting explorations are just that, scouting. Sometimes Tsunade-sama only wants her to test out the situation, to ensure that she can get this close to the target and that she could memorize everything well enough in order to do so again. Whenever these meetings occurred, it was with the intention of killing someone. These men were dangerous men, ones that needed to be eliminated. They were threats to Konoha, threats to its allied villages, and sometimes threats to everyone and anyone.
Whether or not to kill them was never the question.
The question was how to kill them.
In the case of the scouting missions, she was supposed to ensure she could get close to the target and to decide on how to kill them later; if the person they met died every time they had a meeting with Tsunade-sama, someone would catch on eventually, and this tactic would no longer be an option.
In a case like this, Tsunade-sama depended on her to decide the best, most unsuspicious way to dispatch the target.
Looking at the man sitting before her, it's an easy decision:
Heart attack.
The man is large, portly, the same size as his guards but without any of their definition. His bulk consists of fat, not muscle. It isn't much of a surprise; in her experiences, there are two kinds of men in this business: fat ones and skinny ones.
The fat ones are rich, living in the lap of luxury because they have preyed on others all their lives. They have grown fat off of the suffering and troubles of others, both figuratively and literally. They are never satisfied with what they have and always seek for more; more power, more money, more riches. Greed is their downfall; Shizune sees to that. Every one of these men comes slithering to Konoha's door sooner or later, their honeyed tongues speaking of alliances, of increased trade, of friendship and favors. They all but paint targets on themselves, and Shizune never misses a target.
The skinny ones are the ones to watch for. They are lean, unremarkable men with sharp eyes, sharp tongues, and even sharper blades. They are opportunists, ready, willing and able to do anything and kill anyone, just as long as it advances them. Much of the time, they are men that used to work for the fat men, before they realized that they were much slicker and sharper than the fat men, and set out to become fat men themselves. The skinny men are sly and careful, human rats thriving in the bowels of society, spreading their diseases. Fortunately, Shizune is a medic, and knows dozens of ways to stamp out disease.
She hates all of them, because she knows that in their own ways, they spread their evil all over. The fat men inspire others to become like them, and the skinny men spread their poison over others as they use them to climb to the top. She hates the fat ones the most, though, because they are living, shameless proof of their misdeeds, and they don't even care.
But it's not about her feelings; it's about the job.
—a quick, silent touch the man doesn't even feel, a controlled, untraceable burst of chakra that seizes his heart and paints surprise across his face before he ceases to exist—
It's about making the kill—
—quickly, always quick and never messy, she was too good, too skilled to leave a mess—
—and sliding away like a ghost, retracing her steps down the hallway, and slowing letting her genjutsu fade away with each silent breath.
Another crime-lord is gone from the world; another corner of the continent is a little cleaner. And all it took was the span of four minutes.
Shizune pads quietly down the hallway, making her way to the kitchen. It is imperative not to be seen, not to be suspected, not to even be noticed. She must not draw any attention to herself, because that would draw attention to her absence, which would lead to questions that she can not afford to be asked; questions that would cause trouble for Tsunade-sama.
She pads softly into the kitchen, making sure to turn around the corner nearest the meeting room, and fakes mild fright at the sight of the girl bearing a tea tray coming towards her. The two exchange anxious laughs and apologies, and murmurs of wrong turns and nervousness fall from Shizune's lips as she smoothly takes the tray from the girl and thanks her. She brushes off the offer of help, handing the girl a light-hearted line about needing something to do at such a dull meeting while her mistress discussed things far above her. More understanding laughter and a quick farewell, and Shizune knows she has convinced one more member of this household of the harmlessness of Tsunade-sama's attendant.
Attendant. It had more meanings than people thought. She attended to Tsunade-sama. She loved her job. It was easy, and it was pleasant. Tsunade-sama was kind and interesting—
—where on earth does she get all that sake from?—
—if a bit of a handful to take care of at times. She was an easy person to attend to; she generally asked for little, and it was nice to be able to help someone with such an unhappy past, someone who was a connection to her uncle. She loved her job.
Attending.
Certainly it was dull sometimes, but sometimes, sometimes…
Sometimes Tsunade-sama asked her to attend to someone else.
And like a good attendant, she would, of course, do so. After the job was done, she would return to the meeting room, bearing whatever refreshment Tsunade-sama had asked for in her arms as well as excuses of wrong turns. That was just another detail she maintained complete awareness of, for how suspicious would it look for her to leave for several minutes in search of a snack or a drink and return empty-handed?
A novice mistake. One she had never made, because she knew that the details were what ensured that the job was pulled off perfectly.
Each job was always executed flawlessly, because that was part of her job. Then she would step back into the personal attendant role, quietly handing Tsunade-sama the items she had requested. Then came the familiar question…
"Any problems finding everything?"
Such an innocent question, yet it demanded an answer to so many questions, namely due to the words 'any problems'.
"Did you find him?"
"Did anyone see you?"
"Did anyone hear you?"
"Is he dead?"
And she would always respond with an equally innocent answer. She was never hurt or angered by Tsunade-sama's question, because she knew it wasn't asked out of fear or doubt; Tsunade-sama trusted her and had complete faith in her abilities. It was asked out of concern and caution.
She had learned her skills from Tsunade-sama, though she developed them in her own way. And some of the things she'd learned were caution, patience, and attention to detail. That was what drove Tsunade-sama to always ask the same question, and that knowledge was what allowed her to know what Tsunade-sama was really asking.
And what she wanted to hear.
"No, Tsunade-sama. I found everything easily."
"Hai. He is dead."
Tsunade-sama always gave her the same response. A smile (full of pride only she understood), a nod (recognition of the skills only the two of them knew she had), and a quiet thank you (for much more than just the tea she'd brought).
For Shizune, that was all she needed. That second of Tsunade-sama's attention and regard was all she ever needed to make her job worthwhile. Because for once, for that one moment…
Someone was attending to her.
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A/N: And there ya go! Please let me know what you think. I'm only just starting to get my feet wet in the Naru-verse, so I'm hoping this first one goes over well. Please review, and thanks for reading!