Clash!
Large blades rendezvoused in a streak of silver. A young girl, no older than seventeen, was forced back, her chest heaving as she flipped back her sweaty, disheveled dark hair. Her pale lavender eyes narrowed as she lunged towards an opening, teeth gritting under peach lips which parted slightly so she wouldn't end up biting her tongue off.
Thunk!
Her sword met wood, and she scowled in annoyance. This was taking too long. She sensed her opponent and ran forward, jumping off the wall of the arena and landing behind a burly blue figure in a crouch. Then she swept her leg forward, knocking them off their feet. Before they could even reach the ground, her arm was already wrapped around his neck, the tip of her blade hovering just over the rough flesh flimsily shielding his pressure point.
Clapping.
Two pairs of eyes shifted to see a dark figure emerge from a shadowy corner of the room. His hands were clasped in applause, and lips curved slightly into a smirk were just visible beneath the collar of his cloak. His thin bangs swept over crimson eyes, three inky tomoe slowly rotating.
"Itachi-sensei," Hinata greeted, her tone smooth, despite her strength recovering from the intense spar.
"She's improved!" her opponent praised, bestowing upon the younger a fangy grin. She returned it with a shy nod before returning her attention to Itachi.
Calm eyes observed the young girl. Her battle outfit was not the traditional Akatsuki cloak; instead, she preferred to don a form fitting one piece body suit with various pockets to store weapons and weights in. The weights were getting heavier to the point of her carrying six hundred pounds on each leg. If she were to take them out, her speed could probably rival even his. To signify she was part of the group, she wore a hooded cloak with red clouds imprinted on it. When on a mission, the hood was usually up, shadowing her face. On her back, she was usually seen carrying her sword, similar to Kisame's in bulk. No doubt about it, she was a kunoichi.
If Itachi had been any normal man, he would probably even admit that she had matured from the little girl he had brought her as. Her suit revealed soft cures that she most definitely didn't have when she was six. Her dark bangs framed a pale face, falling on top of her exquisite eyes. Her movements were silence, but graceful, and elegance that she had developed from where she had come from, but harnessed in the organisation.
Yet there was something empty about her, she was picture perfect, yet nothing more. Any emotion or warmth seemed to be void in those icy eyes.
Studying her with a leveled gaze, he cleared his throat, "Now that you have mastered your swordsmanship and taijutsu, it is time to perfect your skills with gengutsu. I already know that you are capable of ninjutsu, mastering every element under the training of Sasori and Deidara, but if you come to an opponent who can make you fall to your knees without touching you, you will be killed instantly. Instead of training under the others, I will take over your training from here on forth."
To say that Hinata was shocked would be an understatement. Itachi never trained anybody unless he was training himself, but could be argued as more of a spar, if nothing less. When she had been put under these sensei at the age of ten, she had expected to train with the other members. Never had she even considered she would be taught by Itachi himself, who was second in rank to Leader-sama. Hinata carefully controlled her widening eyes before bowing again in gratitude, "Hai, Itachi-sama. It will be a great honor."
The three members parted, each going to their separate rooms. Hinata plopped down on her hard bed, nestling her face in its matching gray pillow. She closed her eyes as she began to think about her training.
Hinata was well aware that she was a tool in this corporation. Not that she minded, being raised here since the age of six, she had nowhere else to go. She was probably better off here. Here, she was gaining strength. She was pushed beyond her limits and molded into perfection. Being the center of the whole operation, you might think that Hinata would be raised spoiled. But it was far from that. If she messed up a mission, she would be locked in a cold dark chamber for two weeks without food. If she couldn't learn a technique, it was up to her sensei for her punishment. And knowing her teachers, she would much prefer going without food for the rest of her life. If there had been an inkling of emotion left in her when she had been brought here, it had been pinched and tweezed out over the years.
She felt no mercy when taking the life of an innocent. She felt no pain when her opponent drew blood. She didn't even feel satisfaction when she was covered head to toe with crimson after killing off a whole village.
Because weapons weren't forged to feel, and if she allowed even a tiny crack, the blade would shatter.