Shiro's eyes flew open and his hand crept under the covers and closed over a kunai. He refrained from leaping out of bed but tensed in preparation. There were soft footsteps outside his room. Straining his ears, he listened to the footfalls. They were soft, the owner obviously taking care to be quiet but they moved with a steady purpose. Realizing it was most likely a servant of the house, Shiro forced himself to relax only to bolt out of bed at the sudden squawk that shattered the eerie stillness of his room.
The bird that had been sitting the window sill squawked once more then flew off. Pursing his lips with a wry expression, Shiro sheathed his blade and glanced at the wall clock. 4:00 am, still time to get a little more sleep; not that he'd be able to, he mused as he walked over to the window and opened it. He was a light sleeper when in unfamiliar places a trait all ninjas generally shared; the habit born from the constant threat of having your throat slit by an approaching foe while in deep slumber.
He stood staring out the window when a soft breeze moved to greet him. Shyly did it brush past, its fingers tentatively ruffling his hair. Enjoying the touch, he leaned out further catching the full gentle coolness. His eyes closed but it soon passed leaving him disappointed at the loss of contact.
For several minutes he stood there observing the moonlit grounds of the mansion, his ears soaking in all the sounds of the dewy morning. From the grass he could hear the morning songs of the insects as they trilled and chirped their joy at a fresh day. As if determined not to be outdone, the wall clock chimed in with its ticking. Tick tock, tick tock, it went, the seconds passing away and becoming minutes. Yet he still stood there bathing in the peacefulness of the early morning. Tick, tick, the clock went, dead set on getting him to move and finally he did, only to flop back into bed.
He lay motionless unable to sleep. Unbidden his thoughts turned to past deeds and memories. Shiro clenched his fists. This was the price a shinobi had to pay. To be haunted by your actions. Guilt was a cruel entity. It lurked just out of reach during the time he was focused but when his mind was free, it struck and struck hard. It was merciless; digging up memories he wished he could forget and bringing these to the forefront of his mind. But it also reminded him that he wasn't just a mindless tool of death. He still possessed a conscious.
Shiro sat up quickly as another memory showed itself. He couldn't take this anymore. He got out of bed breathing heavily and began to pace irregularly. Eventually he calmed enough to sit back down. The memories hit him again but he forced them away and sought out a particular memory that was the defining point of happiness in his life.
It was a boy he had adopted. Naruto Uzumaki, an outcast shunned for a burden he didn't know he carried.
It was a dark night when a fearsome demon known as the Nine-Tailed Fox appeared out of the darkness and attacked leaving death and destruction in its wake. Shiro could remember it very clearly. Who could ever forget that night. Thunderous footfalls were the first warning of its approach and even the stoutest of Leaf Ninja paled as they witnessed its advance. Bravely did the advance guard try to halt it but they were massacred to the last man and woman. The main force of Leaf Ninja then attacked led by the Third Hokage, also known as the God among Shinobi. They fought with the ferocity of a lioness defending her cub, caring little for their lives as the demon batted them aside. It was only with the arrival of the Minato the Fourth Hokage did they defeat the demon but it came at a great cost nor was it killed.
Being a massive being of pure chakra, the Nine-Tails was impossible to kill, but it could be sealed. And that is precisely what the Fourth did. He sealed it into his newborn son Naruto at the cost of his own life.
The Third Hokage reassumed his role after the Fourth's death and passed a law in the village that no one was to speak of the demon sealed within the child, hoping that Minato's dying wish that his son be seen as a hero be honored, but sadly the people who had lived through the devastation that the Nine-Tails brought forth were unable to do so. And though most obeyed Hiruzen's law, with those who didn't being severely punished, the children of the village also came to fear and dislike the boy simply because their parents did.
Thus Naruto came to live alone, shunned and ignored for a reason he didn't know. The fatherly visits from Hiruzen did not do much to fill the hole in his heart.
Shiro himself harbored no ill-will towards the child but he felt wary about approaching him. It was only a natural reaction considering the boy housed one of the strongest demons in existence. That changed as he observed the cold treatment Naruto had to endure. Following him home one night and observing him crying, Shiro decided to befriend him.
He intercepted Naruto the next day and purposely bumped into him. Naruto had promptly screamed a slew of insults to which Shiro brushed off and apologized profusely. Startled, the boy had regarded him warily for this was the first time someone had actually bothered to acknowledge him. Taking his purse, Shiro waved it tantalizingly and offered to treat him as an apology. That was the start of the bond that formed between those two. Overjoyed to find somebody that didn't shun him, Naruto had taken to seeking him out each day. The two would often be found together, Shiro treating him to meals and helping in the boy's ninja studies as Naruto had chosen that career with the goal of becoming Hokage, a fact he would proclaim nearly every day. One night, Shiro was awoken by soft knocking. Opening his door he found Naruto outside. The boy looked down shyly and asked if he could sleep with him. Shiro had chuckled softly and fetched an extra blanket. He fell asleep with Naruto snuggled against him. Soon afterwards he offered Naruto the opportunity to live with him. Shiro was promptly tackled with a flying hug and his vest was dampened with tears.
As expected the village residents did not react well to him having taken in Naruto. Shiro became a partial outcast, most of his friends distancing themselves. But there were a few that remained loyal. One was Iruka, a young academy instructor and fellow Chunin. He too had been wary of Naruto but in time regarded the boy with great fondness. His teammates and close friends Izumo and Kotetsu were another pair. They made Naruto their partner in crime, a fact Shiro would often sigh at whenever he found himself the victim of a prank.
It was with great surprise one day when the Hokage showed up on his doorstep. The Third had entered and after greeting Naruto with grandfatherly affection, asked to talk in private. He questioned as to why Shiro had befriended the boy and his eyes gleamed with pride as the Chunin explained himself. He did not say much but thereafter Shiro would occasionally find himself playing host to the most powerful man of the village. With the Hokage's visits, the hostile feelings directed towards them diminished quite a bit and the hope that Naruto would one day be accepted shined brighter.
Comforted by his reminiscence, Shiro lay back down and eventually drifted off. He soon awoke again. Checking the clock he saw it was nearly dawn. He got up and performed several stretches before commencing his daily exercises. He completed them and had just finished showering when a knock sounded on his door. It was Camille. The maid blushed furiously when he answered the summon in naught but a towel.
"M-Monsieur Delacour is about to begin breakfast. He would like you to join him if you have no objection," she stuttered out.
Shiro smiled pleasantly. "Thank you Camille. That is your name right?" at her nod he continued, "Please inform him I will be along shortly." As she backed away Shiro asked in afterthought, "He is in the dining room correct?"
"Yes." She replied but asked, "Do you know where it is? I can take you."
"No need," Shiro answered and his face adopted a slightly mischievous look. "I did some late night touring."
When she left, Shiro returned to the bedside and briefly regarded his equipment before strapping on his shuriken holster and a pouch into which he slipped several kunai. As he wrapped bandages around his shins, he considered wearing his flak jacket but decided that provided too armed an appearance for a casual breakfast. Speaking of which, his plain clothing was probably an eyesore considering what he observed so far of the French nobility standards. Not that he cared for their opinions; it was always fun to scandalize people. Now with the bandages fully secure he slipped into the open toed sandals all ninja wore and reached for his black gloves before deciding against it. Satisfied he left the room but not before slapping a piece of paper inlayed with several markings onto the door. A quick motion of his hand and it faded.
Camille was waiting outside the dining room when he appeared. She smiled as he approached but as she moved to open the doors her look became one of expectant interest. It instantly put him on guard. He reached for her hand stopping her from opening the doors. For a long moment he stood still ignoring her confused and embarrassed gaze while his brain rapidly cooked up various improbably scenarios. It was impossible that there was someone waiting to ambush him. Not impossible, just unlikely his mind whispered. But then what? Did his client prepare something to test his abilities? That seemed doubtful as well. But he had to decide quickly as the maid now looked inquiringly at him.
"Pardon me, are you all right?" She asked.
"Yes. Forgive me," Shiro answered releasing her hand and preparing to enter, fully expecting some form of attack but just then another thought was thrown to the front. "Tell me," he said to her, "is Mr. Delacour alone?"
Her face took a surprised look and with the slightest hesitation she answered that he wasn't; his wife Appoline was with him.
So that was it. He had read about the Veela race of course, semi-human beings of breathtaking beauty that exuded an aura of seduction which few were able to withstand.
If they lured men to them with this aura then the effects would be similar to Genjutsu, meaning he should be able to resist but this wasn't just a single attack which he could expel with ease. The effects would be constant if it was aura like. However this was all theoretically analysis. He frowned internally. He wasn't pleased at the prospect but chuckled softly at the paranoid ideas he had cooked up. Now that he knew exactly what to expect, they seemed almost absurd. So bracing himself mentally, he entered and was promptly struck dumb.
The blond woman sitting next to his client was absolutely breathtaking; even the most miniscule aspects of her, such as the way her hair curled around her shoulders and the slight tilt of her face as she looked up at him, added to her hypnotic charm. Shiro was dazed. It was like this creature was calling to him, beckoning him to come closer and he felt himself doing so. Try he might, but he found himself unable to break out. It was like struggling in a mire of thick sludge. With what still remained of his awareness he tried to force his hands into the sign of the Rat; The way of expelling illusionary effects but it was hopeless. His movements felt slow and heavy just like being trapped in a bog. Summoning every scrap of will he could scrape together, he forced his eyes shut. The effects lessened but the image of her burned its way into his mind's eye. This respite small as it was, allowed him collect himself and mercilessly drive out the foreign influence.
Finally having succeeded in regaining control of himself, Shiro opened his eyes. The brownish orbs frosty with irritation fixed themselves on Delacour's face. He wasn't free, he could still feel the allure beckoning to him but this time he was able to keep it at bay.
"You of all people should know the effect a Veela exudes Mr. Delacour-san." he said lightly. "A warning would have been nice unless this was some test of yours."
Jean stood to greet him, impressed that the boy had fought off the allure. He had indeed purposely arranged for the encounter being curious but seeing the boy gazing at him with irritation made him second guess his decision. Though his dear friend Armand had assured of the loyalty shinobi showed their clients, he had no wish to test it.
"It wasn't in order for me to do that," Jean apologized. "But you understand I was naturally curious to seeing your reaction to the allure. You will be guarding my daughter after all."
Shiro looked at him steadily then turned his gaze to the woman who was his client's wife. Surprisingly the allure was much weaker now. "So you can control your allure it seems." He remarked to her.
The woman rose gracefully and moved to greet him. "I do apologize as well," she said offering her hand. "You are correct. Veela can control to some extent how much allure they exude." She gave a motherly smile. "I am Appoline. I am grateful you accepted the task of protecting my daughter."
Shiro scoffed silently. Now without the allure clouding his mind, he could think normally. She was still ravishingly beautiful but she now lacked that hypnotic almost godlike image. "Mrs. Delacour, I prefer it if my clients are honest with their feelings than when they give false pleasantries." He studied her face closely. "The eyes reveal the most about a person's thoughts and feelings. I can see distaste and uncertainty in them."
Appoline was taken aback. The hand she had been proffering dropped. "I assure you that is not the case." She protested.
"Not the case?" Shiro repeated. He fixed her with an impassive gaze. "I have worn many masks Mrs. Delacour and I can tell when one is poorly worn. You resent me, and I know that is the truth. Regardless of what you think about me, you can be assured of my loyalty. And secondly I didn't accept, I was ordered."
He turned away and addressed Jean who sat looking very uncomfortable at the exchange. "I apologize. I hope we can continue this meal with grace and civility. May I sit here?" he asked.
"You may." Jean answered as his wife returned to her seat beside him. The meal proceeded in silence; the whole atmosphere one of awkward tension with neither party willing to speak. Shiro sat daintily picking his way through the foreign dishes, his mind busy conjuring up the possible dangers that could arise on his job while the Delacours sat side by side, unsure of what to say to the young shinobi. And so the only sounds were the scrapings and light clinks of silverware as the owners mutely poked away at the dishes.
"Tell me." Shiro spoke up suddenly. "When would you like me to depart for Beauxbatons?"
"Today," Jean replied. "I have arranged for an automobile driven by one of my servants. It will arrive around lunch time. I wish I could come with you and explain things personally to Fleur but that is sadly too arduous for someone with my responsibilities. There is another ministry meeting I have to attend to."
There was slight crunch as Shiro took a sizable bite out of a crisp roll. "So your daughter doesn't know then I take it?" he said after swallowing. Another bite and the roll disappeared.
"She doesn't and I fear she will not react well to this." Delacour paused as he thought over his next words. "She is… rather headstrong and not afraid to speak her mind and being of high birth, I fear you will find her hard to deal with."
Shiro bared his teeth slightly, Fleur's description not sitting well with him. Combined with the social standing of her family he summed it up in one sentence. "She's one of those snobby arrogant brats isn't she?"
Appoline looked up in surprise and Jean though slightly angered, laughed. "I see you are not shy about speaking your mind as well."
Shiro shrugged and tore into another roll. "I've had to provide protection for the children of important officials in my career and nearly all of them were stuck up weasels." He ground his teeth at some of the more unpleasant memories. "Ahh, behind my mask of humbleness, I took great pleasure in imagining punishing the little scoundrels." the last word being spat out with a venomous sneer.
"I assure you my daughter is more sophisticated than that."
Which would make it even worse, Shiro thought, but kept silent.
Well," he said. "I assume you will be giving me a letter to explain things to your daughter.
And of course a note to the Headmistress of Beauxbatons," he added after a pause. "I can't
very well show up without proof of my purpose."
"That has already been completed." Jean said smiling at the shinobi's surprised look.
"I see."
The meal was resumed in silence and then Jean stood up. "Please excuse me. I have work to attend to and shall return to my study. If you wish to discuss something I shall be there all morning."
Shiro stood and inclined his head until his client had left the room. He then returned to his meal; alone and in the company of his client's half Veela wife. Appoline contemplated him as he ate. "Was it true that you killed when you were seven years old?" she asked suddenly.
Shiro paused and then lay down his utensils. He looked up to face her. "Yes," he answered shortly. He watched somewhat interestedly as several emotions ranged across her face. People's faces were like an open book at times. Surprise, revulsion, pity…
"Did you have a choice at that moment?"
"No, I didn't," Shiro answered slightly tense; His first kill bringing him back to his time as a captive.
"Why did you choose this life? To be trained to kill at so young an age… It is simply barbaric. It's evil."
Shiro laughed humorlessly. "My home knows nothing but war. I choose to become a soldier for my village but then later when given the choice between a peaceful life or to continue on as an assassin, I realized that being an assassin was all I ever knew and all I would be good for."
"How can you say that?" Appoline questioned. "It doesn't matter if killing was the only skill you had. You could have learned others to apply in a peaceful trade."
"You know nothing about me or what I went through so don't make assumptions!" Shiro snapped suddenly. "You have the luxury of a peaceful life. I didn't! Nobody back home does. War is a constant shadow!" He regained control of himself and sighed before schooling his face back into a blank mask. "I apologize."
It was a defense she realized. That cold expressionless face was just a shield to hide behind. He was right. She knew nothing about him but it was clear he bore scars. Her motherly instincts rose and she longed to comfort the pained persona behind that mask. But she had driven him to the breaking point. Appoline feared to continue the subject. She would let him recover.
"I apologize as well. It is a mistake we all make; to condemn without the knowledge to condone our judgment."
Shiro looked up. "I ask myself at times whether I'm a good person and it's a question I have not been able to answer." He swiped the last few crumbs off his plate and stood up. "Excuse me." He left the room.
No one lay twitching on the floor outside his room when he arrived, which was a good thing for two reasons: First it meant nobody had been prying and secondly his client would not be pleased had one of the maids been shocked into a half conscious state by his trap. It wasn't the best idea he realized as he held his hand up to the door. Slowly the paper shimmered into existence. He pulled it off and entered.
Despite the obvious fact that nobody had set foot inside, Shiro went over his equipment with a critical eye. Satisfied that everything was the way he had left it, he slipped into his vest and began the process of arranging and equipping himself.
The conversation at breakfast had stirred up unpleasant feelings and all through the process of equipping himself, these feelings kept jabbing at his emotional core. Finally done, he collected himself and went to find his client.
Jean Delacour was seated behind his desk examining a stack of papers, when Shiro entered. Under the elderly man's gaze, the young shinobi glided in as noiseless as a cat. Grateful for the opportunity to take his mind of his work, Jean set down his papers. "What did you wish to discuss?" he inquired as Shiro came to stop in front of him.
"I wished for more information on my assignment, particularly on the possible foes. Who do you fear so much, that you would hire a shinobi when an escort of one of your own would suffice?"
"It's…" Jean paused, finding himself unable to give a valid reason. "A father's worry, I suppose," he said at last. "Pierre Moreau is the only one I would be very wary of. There is bad blood between our families but yet he hasn't done anything to suggest he is considering harm upon me. Perhaps I acted on emotion."
"A bad thing to act on," was the comment. "Acting solely on your feelings is a sure way to meet death in my world." Shiro glanced at the papers that lay on the desk. They were stamped with an official seal he recognized as the Ministry. "Tell me about the Moreaus. What caused the rift between you?"
Jean sighed. "Several years back I had suspicions that Perrie Moreau was engaged in the dark arts. I bided my time until I had proof then requested a warrant to raid his mansion. My suspicions were correct. In a hidden room was a sizable collection of tomes specializing in dark magic and various artifacts of the same nature. His influence saved him from a harsh sentence. He was demoted to a low position in the Ministry and had to pay a heavy fine. He has hated me ever since."
"Hmmm," Shiro hummed and glanced down at the papers once more. His eyes swiftly flew over the contents. The documents appeared to concern the rights of half-blood wizards and creatures. Jean noted his look but the young shinobi spoke again before he could comment.
"And now my information tells me that he is one of the top officials. In fact, of the two candidates selected to become the new Prime Minister, he is one of them. Tell me, how did he climb back up the ranks after that disgrace?"
Jean sniffed. "I am sure you can imagine. He is a cold, manipulative fellow; and he has strong ties with a number of old families that share his views."
"Has he or they threatened you in any way to give you the impression that your family might be in danger?"
"No, but I wouldn't put it past Moreau to seize any chance to inflict harm on my family or me. Actually I fear with the upcoming election, he might resort to underhanded methods to force me to relinquish my entry. Targeting my daughters would be an effectual method."
"Why are you running for Prime Minister then if it brings you such strain?"
Jean looked pointedly at the boy. "Your questions are becoming personal. I wish to keep it business-like."
Shiro dipped his head. "I apologize, Delacour-san."
The aged man gave a slight smile. "But I'll answer it nevertheless. I wish to make things better. If a man like Moreau gets into power, things will become harsh for certain individuals."
"By certain individuals, do you mean those of mixed blood?" With a gloved finger, Shiro tapped the papers on the desk. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but this appears to be legislation denying such citizens some rights." His eyes scanned the documents again. "Some basic rights it seems."
"You are correct. It is one of the matters to be discussed in the coming meeting today."
Jean sighed wearily. "I do not relish the prospect of crossing wands with him. It will not be passed of course, but the thought of battling it and reflecting his attacks tires me."
"So is he the only danger?"
"There are the other families of course but you can be sure if some attempt is made, Moreau will be behind it. You should know that he has two children. One who is his daughter, Annabelle, is attending Beauxbatons."
Shiro raised an eyebrow slightly at the news. "I assume there's conflict between that girl and your daughters."
"A true assumption. Annabelle has inherited her father's ideals and as such, views my daughters with the same enmity he shows me. She and Fleur often clash."
Shiro scoffed and gave a slow eager smile that made Jean temporarily stiffen. "She's only a brat after all. If it comes to the point where I need to step in, you can be sure that will be the last time this girl will dare to attack your daughter. I won't hurt her," he added at Jean's apprehensive look. "I've learned some techniques from our Interrogation Division which I could apply with great success."
"I'll leave you to decide your judgment," Jean said slowly, "but keep in mind that if you do anything drastic, her father might turn his attention to you."
Shiro tilted his head to face to him, his eyes half closed. "As you said yourself, leave your daughter's safety to me and focus on your problems. I'll handle things discreetly." He shifted slightly before turning towards the door. "That seems to be all for now. Thank you for indulging me."
"What will you doing now until your transport arrives?" Jean inquired.
"That Delacour-san is a rather personal question." Shiro gave him a cheeky smile and exited as silently as he had come in, leaving the elderly man to chuckle and return to his papers.