Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, or any of the characters or any of the characters of Naruto.
This is my attempt at an OC story with a plot…please be nice. I spent a lot of time designing Taka, but if she turns into a Mary Sue, feel free to tell me.
Flames will be used to light the pile of wood under the spit to which Sasuke is tied. If you flame, you help roast Sasuke alive. Please Review!
Click! Click! Click! The small metals gears grated together slowly; gently lift the massive contraption up and down. The dim light of the bare light bulb in the ceiling flickered across the polished wood, causing the shadows in the room to morph into fairy tail monsters as they wavered across the wall. To most people it looked like some kind of toy in the making; one wing, about five feet long, moving sluggishly as it blew sawdust off of the table around it, and a wooden body laying in the shadows just beyond. To Taka Sandoarishi, it looked like a disaster.
"The wing razors…that's it…I hope." Her voice was horse after half a day of silence. With a sigh Taka stretched an arm toward the cabinet mounted on the wall above her. As she looked closely at the bits of twisted metal that protruded slightly from edge of the wood, Taka slipped onto the stool.
Above her there was the noise of ripping cloth. Immediately Taka drew back the slim, black gloved hand that had been feeling around inside her supplies cabinet. "Not this too, why can't I do anything today!" she demanded angrily of the silent room.
'You know perfectly well what's wrong. First you can't concentrate on a fight, and now you can't even pick up after yourself. Why don't you consult your hand?'Her thoughts seemed to echo through her head. Taka grimaced, even her thoughts were against her today. She pulled the ripped glove off of her hand, underneath the "skin" was dark, almost black in the candlelight, and hard as a rock. 'Check you OTHER hand!'
"I know. I just want to make sure my don't have to fix this too." The dark wood of her right arm was indeed unscathed, and Taka turned back to the task at hand. With a professional air, she fished the bowl she wanted from the cabinet, along with a pair of forceps.
"Check your hand!"
"Shut up…great now I'm talking to myself on top of everything else." Moving mechanically, Taka yanked tiny pieces of shrapnel from Jiyuu, dropping them carelessly into the trashcan she knew hid in the shadows below. With each pinch and release of the forceps, Taka felt herself drifting away from the tedious task.
She had been stalking the pair all day, trailing just behind their swirling cloaks. Considering she was only six, the young street rat was perceptive. She could see how the crowds seemed to part for these two, and shivered as one once the strangers were gone. In all the time she could remember the nameless girl had never seen the people of the small Grass village so perturbed.
They didn't notice her until well into the afternoon, that is the pale one noticed. He watched through narrow yellow eyes, which looked similar to the girl's own, as the owner of the tea shop went after the raggedy child with a broom. She ducked under the flying twigs, a mop of unruly black hair swinging her face and hiding her eyes. Above her the broom whistled in a dangerous arch.
Her valiant efforts to avoid the weapon were useless however, and she soon found herself dizzy and disoriented as she crouched under the awning outside. The scent of the tea and sweet dango drifted from the cracked door. Her stomach growled fiercely, reminding her that in her excitement to learn about the foreigners, she had forgotten to scavenge some food.
Now that she had thought about food and hunger she realized just how much she wanted something to eat. Vaguely she heard the door open before the sound of the bell on the door was smothered by a vicious hunger pang.
She was gluing new rectangular razor blades into the wing before she came back to the present. A sharp pain rippled across the back of her left hand as though someone had rolled a red hot iron over skin. Instincts caused her to jerk back, hissing in shock and anger. "Shit," she spat the word through gritted teeth before ripping the glove from her left hand.
Hidden beneath the silky material was ink. Black as night a single line of ink, no thicker than a needle, spread slowly over the back of her hand as though it was alive. It curled and elongated into an unidentifiable shape, causing her entire left arm to sear with white hot pain.
"Ahh…ahh," Taka gagged back the bile that was rising in her throat. Watching the charka ink that had been buried inside her skin for years, she traced the picture with her eyes. A scorpion, flesh colored for now, had etched itself in lifelike detail into her skin. For a second she thought that the tail was curving in, preparing to strike, but she forced herself to believe that it was a trick of the light. 'It only shows up when HE's actually feeling emotions, or something like them, and HE's dead.'
That's what they'd told her anyway, the large crowd that had trudged back elated with recovery of their Kazekage. The pink haired one from Leaf (Sakura wasn't it?) had actually given Taka the news. She could only assume that one of the Chunin had sent the healer her way with the story of Chiyo's death. Taka had officially been the old women's assistant when she wasn't on missions, and most people had expected her death to take more of a toll on the younger puppeteer.
It hadn't though. Chiyo's kindness and her understanding of Taka's fears when the girl was first found were admirable that was for sure, but contrary to what most people believed, their relationship hadn't been deep. Aside from a few talks, some help setting up her new life in the village, and those precious few training sessions, Chiyo had refused after the second time, saying that Taka was unnaturally adept at the art of the puppet at the age of 13, Chiyo and Taka had simply existed as two people who were shunted together because they had been hurt by the same man. Taka wondered sometimes if Chiyo had been unnerved by her grandson's devotee, there had been times the women had looked at her so strangely.
"She said…she said that he purposely took the attack because he…he wanted the love of his parents that he had never known." Big green eyes gazed sympathetically at Taka as they stood together by the gate of Suna. There were tears welling up in the Chunin's eyes as she finished relating the death of Chiyo and Sasori.
Taka gazed unseeingly at the ground, as she processed the information. Chiyo dead, Gaara temporarily dead, and Sasori…dead? "This is my fault."
"Oh no, it's not your fault at all!" Sakura was a trained medic, any of guilt that could possibly lead to suicidal depression sent her springing into action. "There wasn't a lot that you could have helped with. The puppets were everywhere and even Chiyo was having trouble."
"Your right, of course," Taka plastered a fake smile over her face before looking at Sakura. 'If their both dead why is the scorpion on my hand? If he was really dead the charka he implanted in my skin would have evaporated.' Taka bowed to Sakura gratefully, "Well, thank you Sakura-san, I guess I just wish I hadn't been out on a trivial mission when my friend needed help."
"Sakura-chan, come on!" Sakura turned to glare at the blonde behind her that jumped around like a maniac, desperate to get home. Behind him a large group of Leaf ninja stood, waiting for their friend.
"Look Taka-san if you…" Sakura turned back to make a parting remark, only to find that Taka had vanished.
"Taka-sama! Dinner is ready." A door was open at the top of the staircase that led to Taka's basement workshop, and a small blonde head peeked through. Two sky blue eyes took in the mess of sawdust and puppet parts.
"Hai Koanen, tell Bara I'll be there in a minute." The door closed, leaving Taka in her dark solitude.
Suddenly craving to spend time with her adopted family, Taka slipped off of the stool. Her bare feet, the first no-no on the list of rules that Taka had given Koanen for when the girl wanted to come into the shop, padded across the floor to a basin like sink in one better lit corners of the room.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and stopped. Her wavy black hair, which would have been pretty if she brushed it more often, seemed to hang lankly to her shoulder blades. And her yellow, no golden ("Sasori-sama, what color are my eyes?" "Gold Taka. Why does it matter?" "Because Orichimaru-san said our eyes are yellow," the girl grimaced," and I don't want to be like Orichimaru-san.") eyes seemed glazed over with pain and exhaustion. Even her loose, button up shirt of a sandalwood hue seemed more threadbare than it actually was. Worst of all was her face; the normally light tan skin looked milky white in the light, and to small patches of fevered pink graced her checks.
"I look like shit." There was nothing rhetorical about the statement.
Well there you have it...please review...
Oh yeah, I was thinking of adding a little romance...maybe...some opinions would be nice