Braiding her hair, four feet long and golden as it was, was always a process.
Misaki would wake up at the crack of dawn just to comb it; gliding the bristles down and through the tangles, creating soft waves - which alone would take at least a quarter of an hour - and then lather it gently with water to make it easier to work with.
She would separate it into parts, each one designated since the first moment she had started to wear her hair in this assortment of complicated folds. Her quick, slender fingers would move through the strands rapidly; weaving it over, under, and around, until there was not even another millimeter to braid. This process would take at least 45 minutes, sometimes even over an hour if she came across a tangle, or a faulty loop, and had to start over. But, if everything went smoothly and according to plan, the activity would only last her until the sun was just barely showing through the trees; meaning that she had time to get dressed.
Every day, Misaki would wear the same outfit; a combination of black capri leggings, a tunic style cover with matching black jacket, if it was colder, and a pair of comfortable - though undeniably worn and old - combat boots she had kept in decent shape for the past few years. Her hair was of course, always in the braid, which reached down past her hips, and to spice things up, sometimes she weaved flowers into it as well.
It wasn't like the extra accessory necessarily became a hindrance to her ability to complete her day's work, but she didn't wear them often, mostly because it took much longer than her usual routine. If she took the time to put them in, it would cause at least a 15 minute dip in her schedule, and if her boss was in a bad mood, that just wasn't acceptable. If she was late reporting to work, he would yell at her for hours - often wasting even more time than she had - and only give her the dirty jobs that the lower recruits in her organization usually handled; due to lack of seniority. As she had been a member for a good 10 years now, at least, Misaki had more experience than most, so she usually got the higher ranking jobs. But, as mentioned, when he was angry at her, he gave her awful duties out of spite, just to make her annoyed, and to feel his own sick sense of satisfaction.
There were days when she didn't mind, as she was off in her own little world anyway, but most of the time, such days would end with her limping off to bed, sporting vicious cuts and bruises with a scowl on her face. So yes: having the flowers in her hair to compliment her piercing blue eyes benefitted how she felt about herself, (because let's face it, she was a pretty woman, and those flowers only served to make her even more gorgeous) but often the risk was too much for her to handle. So, on days like to today, when her back was still sore from her last assignment, and she barely had the patience to put on a touch of makeup, she could go without the extra boost in pretty.
Misaki finished tying the ends of her beloved boots, and tapped the hard, rubber bottoms with care to make sure they were still, in fact, not falling apart since she had last glued them together.
After another moment of proper examination, she confirmed them to be in working order, and she bounced out the door on ecstatic heels that moved much faster than the rest of her body.
A neighbor who lived across from her in the compound - which was really just the dorm rooms her organization provided, as many of the members had no home - chuckled at her bright smile, calling, "Morning, Rapunzel!" and began laughing even more as she jokingly shook a fist at him. It wasn't as if she hated being called that, as she had brought it upon herself with that hair of hers, but to be truthful, it had grown to be rather annoying in recent years. She had heard such a nickname addressing her for as long as she could remember, and it grew to such a point that she had to remind herself constantly of what her actual name was. Sometimes, she would have to repeat it to herself daily, saying, "Misaki, Misaki, Misaki," in order to rid her mind of the constant stream of 'Rapunzels'. Of course, she wasn't about to reprimand the poor man who had just walked outside, as he was simply going with the flow, but still. Sometimes Misaki wished someone would actually pay enough attention to her to realize that she didn't actually enjoy it as much as they thought.
Before he left completely, she decided to be polite and yelled, "Have a nice day!" to the man's retreating form. He turned to her and smiled; waving.
Misaki didn't know him, but he seemed nice enough. Though, not like anyone was truly kind if they worked here. She herself was a prime example.
The many people that thought she was just like Rapunzel, and were amused by her daily braiding, were all a part of the same organization she was, as she never really came into contact which much of anyone else. It didn't really have a name - or at least, she had never really cared to ask what it was - but it simply worked as a mini ninja village in a small sector of Konoha; taking on the dirtier side of incoming jobs, most often including assassination or body pickup. Misaki was usually requested on the more dangerous side of things, hence the reason that she had said she had more experience. She had been here since she was a teenager, and she had learned more than a few ways to get what she wanted. Misaki didn't necessarily enjoy the conquest of murder, but the pay was profitable, and anything that could get her closer to paying off her lazy (not to mention deceased) father's debts was fine with her.
She would even stoop down to the life of a killer.
But, in any case, even though the others teased her with a funny name, and often blatantly told her that they thought pushing through such a struggle each day was just a waste of time, she didn't mind. Misaki didn't mind combing her hair, or braiding it for an eternity, even though it took away from the rest of her day. She quite enjoyed the process, actually, and if they were going to make fun of her, then screw them. She didn't care. She only had to associate with them for a few more years at most, anyway, so it wasn't like she couldn't handle it.
And anyway, part of the reason she kept her hair so long in the first place, was to mark how much time had passed. Honestly, she wasn't really sure how old she was now - perhaps in her early or middle twenties - but just having her inch upon inch, and foot upon foot, on a constantly growing golden spool was enough of a reminder to keep her going. As long as she had this hair, she would know how long and how hard she had worked for her goal. In fact, even without that, she didn't really mind it. It was beautiful, just as she was, and it suited her well.
Especially now, since she had discovered that she could keep weapons in it.
The idea had just come upon her one day, as she was shopping for extra supplies at her local, "Ninja Assortment Store". A certain kunai, cream colored and rusting slightly, stood out at her; looking just as blonde as she knew her own head to be.
And, just like that, it had hit her.
Misaki had bought the entire display that day, regardless of the fact that the metal was weathering away, even as she held it in her hands. This was the edge she needed on the other ninjas - if she could even call herself one. And this idea was absolutely perfect.
Misaki rushed home with her new finds; excited out of her mind about what might be in store for her. She could just see it! She, running through the rough terrain of Konoha in her usual gear, surrounded on all sides by rogues, seemingly void of all hope. They would close in on her, thinking they had the advantage, and without even a second to spare, she would emerge with a fresh, camouflaged set of shuriken that had been hidden in her hair the entire time. It was simply groundbreaking!
In a hurried flourish, she had disassembled her braid, tugging away at the higher loops in her rush, despite the fact that it was only causing more knots to form. It was tedious work, almost as time consuming as forming the weaves, but once more, Misaki pushed through it in the mindset that this would turn out to be as fruitful of an idea as she had hoped.
And it did.
She wedged every weapon she could in there while re-braiding it; shuriken, kunai, senbon needles; the whole shebang. And surprisingly - miraculously - they stayed there. As Misaki tied off the end and stood, swirling around, not even a single piece of her vast collection dropped, or could even be seen for that matter.
It was the perfect battle strategy.
That next morning, as Misaki braided her hair for what could have been the millionth time - the clock showing 6:47 A.M. - she inserted the weapons once more, surprisingly only eating up an extra five minutes.
Without wasting much time on the rest of her outfit, opting for a simple tank top and leggings, Misaki swiped what was left of her gear into her bag, and bolted out the door of the hotel she had been resting at previously - as she was a good twenty miles from the compound - without another thought. She had already left some money for the owner on the table, so she didn't think the abrupt leave would be looked down upon.
A good mile or so was cleared within the next few minutes - her braid bouncing against the small of her back as always - and Misaki came to a halt suddenly to take in a deep breath. She was positively giddy; impressed beyond belief with herself.
Sure, the braid hung much heavier on her head than it had before, but that was a small price to pay in the long run. This was going to be her edge during investigation missions. No longer would she have to head into the front lines without weapons, in the attempt to blend in as a simple civilian. Now, she still could, but at the same time, be twice as deadly.
And oh, she was.
That day had gone more smoothly than any other day prior, and from that point on, she had used the tactic ever since. It did give her that extra edge, just like she had hoped, and just like she had planned. Her assassinations became almost entirely silent and a hundred times as deadly overnight, and suddenly, the requests for her - though unfortunately with the code name Rapunzel - tripled. She was back in business. And it would no longer take an eternity to pay off the colossal and ever rising pile of debt.
How she loved her brain's crazy ideas.
Misaki, as noted, didn't necessarily like her occupation, but with this find, she was starting to enjoy it just a bit more. If she could keep this up without getting killed for just a bit longer, she would be home free. And once that money was off the table, and she could start earning for her own pockets once more, she could finally quit. Finally settle down, and find a nice husband as her late grandparents - bless them - would have wanted. She would be happy; for them, if not for anyone else. And if it took a few more years, then so be it. She could wait another decade, another century. As long as she could pay them off within this lifetime, she would be satisfied.
After all, even a killer like herself surely deserved at least a moment of happiness.
"You're late."
She paled. "No, I swear-"
"Kidding!"
Her boss, thinking he was much cleverer than he really was - as always - took in a hasty breath and laughed heartily at her nervous state. She wasn't scared of him, per say, as she could easily take him out, if she wanted to, but for some reason, she rather disliked displeasing him, so it always stung to know that he was angry with her. Perhaps it was simply the fact that she had never had a healthy relationship with her real father, controlling her from within her subconsciousness. Whatever the case was, she tried to avoid being late at all costs, and even hearing it as a joke made her worried in seconds.
He was a large man of perhaps 50, meaning he was growing in years, and he sported a constant grin; but only if he wasn't angry. His hair was sloppily parted, brown, and often hung in his face, and his eyes were a dull gray that still sparkled with the youth he had lost. All in all, her boss was a kind looking character, though he dealt with the wrong sort of jobs, and Misaki loved him to death, almost like he was her father.
Of course, she had never actually told him that, as it was too embarrassing, but she was sure he knew, to some extent, how much she cared about him. It wasn't a lie that he had said she was his favorite. He knew how much she cared.
"Anyway," he continued; patting her head with his large hand. "I've got a rather interesting assignment that came in for you today."
At this news, her head perked up, and she looked at him with a half questioning, and half hungry look.
"By interesting, do you mean…?"
He laughed again, but only for a second. "It's high paying, yes, but that's not why I thought you'd be intrigued. Tell me, Rapunzel, have you ever heard of Kakashi Hatake?"
Confused as to just who this strange man was, she shook her head. Such a name had never passed her ears prior to this moment, and it almost made her question his very existence because of it. Usually, she had at least caught wind of the name of her target, at the very least. Sometimes, she even knew extensive backstory about them. But with this man, she simply had no clue.
"I figured as much," he noted; pushing what was obviously a photograph of the man mentioned to her.
Picking it up, she drank in his features, as was customary, and concluded that he didn't look especially talented. It wasn't like she could really deduce such a fact from a mere picture, but the vibe coming from even the slouched way he stood had her instantly sure that he wasn't very impressive. His hair was really the only thing that caught her eye; being entirely white, and standing up on an angle she had never thought possible. One of his eyes was covered by a leaf village headband, and he looked to be of a jounin rank.
Final conclusion: She didn't want to waste any time on him.
Looking unimpressed, she slid the photo back to her boss, who caught it nimbly in his fingers.
"He doesn't look all that great. I could kill him easily."
Blatantly, and with no further explanation, he countered with, "That's because you're not going to kill him."
A blank expression crossed her face, and even as he slid another photo to her, it did not leave her. She didn't understand.
This one had the same man sitting with a group of three children - obviously genin - two males, and one female. One of the boys was notably an Uchiha, and the other looked rather flamboyant, with hair and eyes that rivaled hers, while the girl had strawberry pink hair and looked about as sheepish as they came. Overall, they looked like a team of wannabes, and more than ever, she didn't understand why the boss was even showing her this.
"See this girl?" he asked; pointing to her, like she couldn't determine which one of them was female herself.
"I need you to pretend to be her."
That wasn't exactly what she had expected.
Even more confused, she asked, "What do you me-" before he cut her off; saying, "No, let me finish."
He took in a breath before continuing.
"The blonde kid standing next to her is Naruto Uzumaki; the nine-tails jinchuuriki. Some of our scouts say he's going to be a hot topic in the next few years, so we need to snag him before another rebel group gets to him first. Of course, I need you to collect a good few weeks of information on him first, so that's why you'll be posing as a genin, but in the end, this is still a capture mission. No killing is going to be involved, but still, if you do this correctly, we're taking a salary increase of at least 15%. I'm sure that even if this assignment doesn't, the money interests you." He smirked cheekily at her. "You can't refuse such an offer, can you now?"
Stubbornly, she turned away, as if she was thinking.
It was true she wouldn't be turning down such an offer. She would be an idiot to, and Misaki was no idiot. She didn't like it, and for some reason, she knew that she would grow to hate the one called Kakashi, but if she could get through these next few weeks, the money involved might just have her closing the debts a year early. And that was something she couldn't just ignore.
Calmly, she turned back to him, saying, "You know I can't resist the temptation of money. I'm hired."
But at that time, she had had no idea just what she was getting herself into.