Chimera, Chapter 3: Beauty
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.


When she found him, he was at his usual spot at the fishers' docks. His feet dangled over the edge of the dock, and she imagined his toes dipping in the water as soft waves lapped at them. Salt stained his light blue yukata and gave the illusion of a pattern of clouds at his feet from a distance. Mei smiled enough to make her cheeks hurt.

"Utakata!" She ran toward him.

Utakata looked back over his shoulder at her with wide golden eyes. When he saw her tripping over herself to hurry up and get to him, he grinned and rose to meet her. Mei threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Utakata swung her around in the air and laughed.

"You're back!"

"Yeah, and a Chuunin!"

"That's good. I knew you'd pass."

They sat down together at the edge of the dock, and Mei relished in the cool seawater kissing her toes. A light fog hung over the seascape and crept over the village's shoreline. She took a deep breath.

"I'm just glad it's over."

Utakata watched her, his eyes half-lidded. "You missed this place that much, huh?"

Mei wrinkled her nose. "It's not like that. Well, maybe a little. I guess this is home, you know?"

Utakata averted his gaze toward the horizon obscured by thick fog. "I guess it's the only one we've got."

She put her hand over his. "It's home because you're here."

His hands were soft, like hers. Unmarred. Neither was used to wielding swords and staves. No one would ever guess what those small soft hands had done.

"You know," Utakata said, squeezing her hand, "I think home's what you make of it. Even a place like this. If you wanted to make it better, you could."

Mei frowned and retracted her hand. "No, you can't."

Not while he's here.

She dared not speak the words, for Yagura had eyes and ears everywhere. But Utakata understood her meaning enough not to ask.

"Yeah, you can." He flashed her a bright smile. "It's people who built this dock, those houses, everything. It's up to them to make this place a good home."

Mei pulled her knees up to her chest. "If you say so."

They sat in silence for a while until voices found them.

"How do you even know she's out here?"

"I pay attention."

"You're seriously weird, you know that?"

Ameyuri and Mangetsu bickered as they walked along the shoreline. Mangetsu looked about ready to fall asleep while Ameyuri bombarded him with questions and complaints. He carried two small trays of fried calamari rings.

Utakata tensed as the pair drew nearer. "I didn't know they were friends."

Mei stood up and waved. "Hey! Looking for me?"

Ameyuri spotted her and made a beeline for her position. "There you are! Do you have any idea the kinda morning I had with this idiot?"

Utakata stood up, too, but he remained rooted to the spot as Mei jogged to meet Ameyuri and Mangetsu.

"Ameyuri's been looking for you all over town," Mangetsu said.

Ameyuri drew one of her swords. "Dumbass! I have not!" She attempted to slash him, but he liquefied on contact and her blade passed right through him, harmless. "Goddamnit, cut that out!"

"Is that supposed to be a pun?" Mangetsu asked.

"Mei." Utakata put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay," Mei said. "They helped me out a lot during the Chuunin exams. They're okay."

Utakata didn't release her, and his grip tensed as Ameyuri and Mangetsu approached. But he said nothing and flashed them a lopsided smile.

"That for us?" he asked, indicating the fried calamari.

Mangetsu shrugged and held out a tray. "You should eat it before the piranha does."

"What the shit did you just call me?" Ameyuri grabbed him by the collar, and he accidentally spilled a couple calamari rings.

Mei took one of the trays, and with his free hand Mangetsu plucked a calamari ring from the remaining tray and shoved it into Ameyuri's mouth. She staggered, suspended in a moment of uncertainty over whether to chew and admit defeat or spit it out and waste good food. Despite herself, Mei laughed. Utakata loosened his death grip on her shoulder.

"You gah fomefin' to fay?" Ameyuri sputtered through a mouthful of seafood.

"Yeah. How'd you beat that Cloud ninja in the singles?"

Ameyuri lit up and swallowed her food. She then launched into an animated recounting of her 'incredible fight' and how she totally trounced 'that dumbass Omoi' with his own secret weapon: lightning. They found themselves sitting on the dock in a circle as first Ameyuri and then Mangetsu recounted their fights. Mei was the last to go, and recalling the battle from afar dulled some of the abject humiliation of the entire spectacle. Perhaps it was time past, or maybe the grease on her fingers that no amount of licking could quite clean off.

"So the Hiding in Mist technique worked," Mangetsu said.

Ameyuri put up a hand. "Okay, whoa, who said you could call it that? That sounds totally gay."

"I invented it."

"Don't go stealin' the glory!"

"You did give me the idea, but I'm the one with the mist," Mei said.

Mangetsu swallowed. "I see how it is."

Utakata stood up abruptly. "It's just fog, right? Teach me how to do it!"

Ameyuri was quick to follow his lead. "Hey, yeah, me too!"

Mei rose. "I don't know how to teach a clan technique." Mangetsu stared at his feet as he remained seated. Mei held out a hand to him. "But we're a team, right? Help us out."

Mangetsu eyed her hand but didn't take it. "The exams're over."

"You're Mangetsu Hozuki," Utakata said. "You were top of our class in ninjutsu theory. You sayin' you can't even manage a little dew?"

Ameyuri grinned. "Damn straight."

"The game's still going," Mei said. "And I never planned on losing."

Mangetsu looked between the three of them. "Fine. Maybe I can come up with something even amateurs like you could handle."

"Who're you calling 'amateur', you overgrown juice box?" Ameyuri brandished a fist.

Mei bit back a smile. "Come on, let's do it on the beach."


Mei was soaking wet but more content than she'd felt in a long time. The beach sand squelched between her bare toes as she ran around in the mist and felt for another presence. The four newly-minted Chuunin had been at it all morning with Mangetsu at the helm attempting to come up with a way to replicate Mei's mist technique. Unbelievably, he'd made progress.

"You're putting too much chakra into it." Mangetsu snuck up on Utakata and pointed a kunai at his throat.

Utakata swallowed. "Hah, sorry, guess it's hard when you're not made of water."

Mangetsu said nothing as he studied his fellow Mist shinobi. Mei hung back and watched. No one had ever said more than two words to Utakata in their Academy days, too afraid of the beast that slept within him. Mangetsu didn't seem to have a problem addressing him. Perhaps now he finally had something to talk about. There was no fear in his bright violet eyes, only curiosity. The mist cleared as the group ended the training session, exhausted. Ameyuri plopped down on the sand and chewed on a piece of jerky she'd hidden up her sleeve. Mei eyed it covetously.

"Want some?" Ameyuri ripped off a hunk of jerky and held it out to Mei.

She accepted it without a word and sank into the sand next to Ameyuri. They chowed down together in near silence as the boys stretched somewhere behind them.

"So who're you gonna train with?" Ameyuri asked.

"Huh?"

"You know. Now we're Chuunin so we need instructors. Whatcha gonna do? Obviously you can't be a legendary swordsman. I mean, you're literally the worst at that stuff."

Mei shoved her hard with an elbow, and Ameyuri retaliated by jamming her heel into Mei's foot. Mei scowled and pulled her knees to her chest.

"I dunno. No one can do what I do," she said.

"Maybe that's a good thing. You're kind of a freak, you know."

Mei bit back a grin and nudged Ameyuri. "Shut up."

"I didn't realize today was a holiday," a gruff voice said.

Mei and Ameyuri sprang to their feet to face the newcomers intruding on their sanctuary. Mei set her jaw at the sight of them. Kisame grinned at her like he had a secret he was dying to share. His partner, Zabuza, stood beside him. He was a tall, brooding boy with condescending eyes. His face was half obscured by a bandana. Mei was reminded of Kakashi, and she tensed.

"I heard you made Chuunin," Kisame said.

His beady eyes lingered on Mei as he continued to grin, and she wondered if he even knew how to look any other way.

"What's it to you?" she said.

Zabuza stepped forward. "We're your superiors. Watch your tone."

"You wanna say that again?" Ameyuri growled.

Mei put an arm in front of Ameyuri. "You're not our superiors, you just outrank us because you're older. The only difference between you and me is that you were lucky enough to be born first."

Zabuza narrowed his eyes. "Cheeky. You know I could kill you if I wanted."

"You could try."

Utakata and Mangetsu noticed what was happening and joined the group. They stood behind Mei and Ameyuri, but they said nothing. Zabuza scowled and averted his gaze.

Kisame just laughed. "I'll take you up on that one day."

Mei had nothing to say to that, so she settled for a healthy glare.

"He's gonna hate you," Kisame said.

"Huh? Who're you talking about?"

Zabuza recovered enough to command attention back to him. "You know, you're not home free. The real shit starts now. If you don't have what it takes, Yagura'll weed you out. All of you."

"I got what it takes," Ameyuri said. "You wait and see."

Zabuza exchanged a look with Kisame, who gave nothing away of his thoughts. "We'll see, runt."

Ameyuri gaped and tried to go after them, but Mangetsu grabbed her arms and restrained her. "You punk! What the hell's that s'posed to mean, huh?!"

"It's time for you to leave," Utakata said softly.

Zabuza shrugged and crossed his arms. Kisame merely grinned wider. "Sure thing, kid. But I wanna know what you came up with today."

"And if we don't wanna tell you?" Ameyuri spat.

"I'll make a full report when it's finished," Mangetsu said.

All eyes turned to him. Ameyuri looked ready to rip him a new one.

"Perfect," Kisame said. "Well, be seeing you."

He nodded to Mei, but she didn't return the gesture and watched him retreat with Zabuza.

Ameyuri finally struggled free and whirled on the boys. "What the hell?! What d'you mean we're gonna hand over all the secrets to them?"

"You know how it works here. Yagura has to know everything so we're ready for the worst," Mangetsu said.

"Oh please, you don't seriously buy that bull."

"I believe he'd kill us for keeping it from him," Utakata said.

Ameyuri growled. "You're a goddamned Jinchuuriki! What could he do to you, seriously?"

"He could hurt the people I love."

Mei put a hand on Utakata's shoulder. He was trembling. "Whatever, they're gone now, so who cares? We had a good day of training."

Utakata bared his teeth at her, and she pulled her hand away. Before she had a chance to say anything, he walked away.

"He's angry," Mangetsu said as they watched Utakata go.

Mei nodded. "Yeah..."

She hugged her arms to her chest and shivered, suddenly cold.


For nearly a week, Mei trained with her friends and lost track of the world. Friends? She supposed she could call them that. They weren't enemies or burdens or bullies. They weren't technically teammates anymore, either. Maybe 'friend' was the only appropriate term for someone she didn't feel like killing the first chance she got. Not because she wasn't allowed, but because the world would have been a little darker without them.

Mangetsu's report to Yagura didn't generate anything new, but Mei kept looking over her shoulder anyway. It would one day, she was sure of it. It was a good technique, no doubt about it. And used right, it could facilitate mass murder like it had never been possible before. But Yagura was like an exotic animal. He kept to the shadows just out of sight, elusive, until it was too late to defend because he'd had his eyes on you all along and you just didn't know it. Like the inevitability of death, it was only a matter of time.

Today, inevitability decided to catch up with Mei as she met the man who would become her instructor for the foreseeable future. He waited on the beach as she finished up with her friends for the day, and she would have walked right by him if she hadn't noticed his shinobi garb. A long katana, longer than any she'd seen on another shinobi, was strapped to his hip. He also carried multiple knives in holsters at his thighs, ankles, chest, and back. Enough to arm a small garrison.

"Mei Terumī?" he said as she approached.

Mei stopped and felt her heels sink into the damp sand. She said nothing.

"I asked you a question, girl."

"Yes, sir," she said.

He eyed her a moment, not patronizing but merely studious, the way one might examine a museum exhibit or strange, untested dish. And before she knew what hit her, he drew a dagger from his hip and flung it at her. Mei was too slow to avoid it, and it cut a deep, ugly gash in her shoulder. Blood flowed freely from the fresh wound and stained her blue sleeve. Reacting on instinct, she crouched and channeled chakra to her throat for a lava technique. The man narrowed his eyes.

"Pick that up."

Mei was ready to let him have it because screw this old man, he had no right to attack her like this unannounced. But before she could even blink, he had body flickered and reappeared directly in front of her with his fist in her collar and his nose in her face. Lava seeped from the edges of her mouth, but her eyes were wide with surprise and a little fear. The only other person who had dared come this close with her technique active had been Kisame.

"Did I stutter, girl?"

Mei's chakra died down as though doused with cold water, and she slumped in his grip. Up close, she could make out the details of his face quite clearly. His eyes were an unforgiving charcoal, mirthless. His cheeks were sunken, like someone had poked holes in his skin with needles and let the life drain out of him. Stubble prickled his upper lip and chin, as sharp as the knife that had slashed her shoulder. He stared her down like he could divine all her failures, and there were surely many.

She swallowed. "No, sir."

He released her and she wiped her mouth with a sleeve. The dagger had embedded in the sand not far behind her, and she retrieved it without another word. Turning it hilt first, she held it out to her attacker.

"Keep it," he said. "If you're too slow to beat it, then your only choice is to learn how."

A moment of silence passed between them. Mei lowered the weapon and straightened up.

"I don't fight with knives."

He pressed his lips together in a deep frown. "We live in the Bloody Mist. You'd best arm yourself because no one else here will save you."

At the mention of that taboo moniker, Mei bit her tongue. He had nerve to utter that out loud behind these walls. But it wasn't because of this that she responded, but because of the truth she heard in his words. A truth she'd known for as long as she could remember.

"Who are you?"

"To you, apparently, I'm Sensei." His lip curled at the word. "But to everyone else, I'm Ganryū."


"Your problem is that you're slow and you think you're not."

Mei picked herself up from the ground and clutched her bleeding side. Ganryū's katana was coated in her blood, but the dagger in her hand was as clean as a whistle. Not once in their three months of training so far had she managed to land a single hit on him. Of course, that was only because he refused to let her use ninjutsu. The rules of engagement were simple: swords and fists. No chakra, no bloodline limits.

"Why?" she'd asked him when he'd laid out the rules.

"Because every shinobi finds herself without chakra or access to special techniques at the worst possible time. Do you want to die with the masses, or do you want to live today and rule them tomorrow?"

She wanted to live, of course, and thus the rules. But the way he was flaying her every day was killing her slowly, she wanted to remind him. She did once, and he cut her so badly she needed professional medical attention.

Bloody Mist, indeed.

"Ganryū!"

On this particular day, they had company.

"I told you two not to disturb my training hours," Ganryū said.

A burly man with wavy hair and a kind smile slapped him on the back. "Oh come on, everyone needs a break! Besides, we wanted to meet your new protégé. You've been hiding her all this time!"

Mei continued to clutch her side as she eyed the two newcomers. The woman, a lithe blonde with kind eyes, put a hand on Ganryū's shoulder and pecked him on the cheek.

"And we've missed you," she said with a smile.

Ganryū didn't react to her affection, but he didn't push her away.

"Suiren, Junsai, this is my student, Mei Terumī," he said.

All eyes turned to her, and Mei held her chin up despite her injury. Junsai approached first, his smile gone. "You're hurt, kid. Lemme take a look."

Mei backed away on instinct, and he crouched down to one knee so he was looking up at her. His big, brown eyes were deep and calming. "It's okay, I'm a medic. Mind if I take a look?"

It was hard not to want to trust this man. His aura was so soothing that Mei started to feel drowsy. She caught Ganryū's eye and he held her gaze.

"Okay," she said.

Junsai's smile widened and he raised a glowing green hand to her side. Within minutes, the gash in her side was sealed up and no longer hurting. All that remained was the rip in her shirt.

"Guess the old man's been fair with you, huh?"

Mei said nothing, but he must have read some sign of confusion on her face.

"I mean, he hasn't taken on a student before. They've been bugging him to, but he never liked the candidates. I guess you're the first."

"Never?"

Junsai chuckled and rose to his full height. "He's fair. Just remember that."

Suiren was speaking in hushed tones with Ganryū, and Mei couldn't detect what they were saying. By the time Junsai gave her some space, they had finished their conversation. Ganryū still looked as sour as ever, but he held Suiren's hand. She smiled at him.

"Well, we'll see you later tonight, then. Good luck with the rest of your training," she said.

Ganryū nodded. Junsai shook his hand and bid him farewell. He saluted Mei as he turned to leave. Once they were gone Ganryū was quick to get back to work.

"Your teammates?" Mei asked.

"Yes."

"He was nice."

"No one in this village is nice. If you don't know that already, you're a bigger idiot than I could've imagined."

Mei bristled. "I only meant he was kind to me. Not many people are. Especially not you."

It was Ganryū's turn to bristle. "I'm not here to be kind to you. I'm here to make sure you don't die out there. Yagura has plans for you, and you need to be alive to carry them out."

Mei twirled the dagger in her hand. There was no anger, but there was something. Something about him. "What kinds of plans?"

"Plans you wouldn't understand yet. You're still a child."

Mei walked toward him, and he stood his ground. His hand tightened on the tantō at his hip. She stopped just a foot in front of him.

"I had a team once. We won."

Ganryū narrowed his eyes. "No, you didn't. You were only playing."

Mei channeled chakra to her feet and moved without thinking.

"Don't think."

That had been her first lesson. Don't think? How could she not think? Why wouldn't she? But thinking takes more time than breathing, than cutting, than killing, things that she could do all at once. Best not to think and regret it later. The edge of her knife slashed through his thigh, clean and almost silent. The blade glistened with his blood. Mei stared at it, suddenly tempted to run her finger across it.

"No one else here will save me," she said, a little mystified at the sight of his blood on her sword.

Ganryū eyed the knife in her hands, but gave no indication of his pain even as his blood flowed freely down his leg onto the ground. "You're learning."

They stared at each other in silence. For the first time since she'd known him, he almost smiled.


Training with Ganryū was not a pleasant experience. He pushed Mei hard, and not in the way she'd been pushed at the Academy. There were no fights to the death, no formalities. There were just the knives and rules he set. There was only one way to win, and even that was not a win. Not really. He was faster, more observant, and able to improvise at the drop of a hat. Unless she could play this game better than him, she would never truly win. But she tried.

"Here's your problem," he told her one sunny afternoon as they breaked for lunch. "I can teach you how to get faster and improve your technique, but I can't make you be more aware of what's going on around you. You have to figure that out on your own."

"I have eyes."

Twelve and still so stubborn. Even a year with Ganryū had not brought her up to his standards.

"But you don't use them." He munched on a sandwich. "I'll just have to force you to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm certified delusional for thinking there's still hope for you."

Mei huffed and set down her lunch. "If you'd just let me use my clan techniques, it'd be different."

Ganryū sighed. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. You don't see. Those techniques are a crutch because you rely on them for everything. Listen to me, Mei. No matter how strong and special you think you are, there will always be someone better. Always. And all it takes is crossing paths with him at the wrong time to end you. In all your arrogance, you'll never know what hit you."

Mei was quiet as she thought about his words. Unbidden, a memory of the Chuunin exams returned to her. Kakashi had fought well back then, one of many worthy opponents. But she would never forget the look in his eyes. Confidence, even in the face of defeat. Like he knew something she didn't.

"Ah, you've already met someone like that, haven't you?"

Mei shifted in her spot, no longer hungry. "I beat him. It doesn't matter."

"But you linger on it. That's what happens when you win on luck alone. It's the same as defeat."

Mei stood up and scowled. "Then what should I do?"

They were lunching on the beach. Waves pelted the sand in the distance, rhythmic and reliable as they had always been. Her gray Chuunin vest had patches sewn on to cover the many knife wounds it had suffered in her training.

"The best way to learn is from people who're better than you," Ganryū said.

"You're better than me."

Ganryū scowled. "Like I said, no vision. Come on, are you finished?"

They cleaned up their lunch and she followed him out of the village a ways. They usually stuck to the outskirts where the training grounds lay. Beaches, rock faces, and abandoned suburbs that once belonged to clans long since purged. It was quiet there. Mei kept her eyes ahead.

"Where're we going?" she asked.

"For those who lack vision, the only way to get them to see is by example."

He led her through a ghost town where the buildings were crumbling and dilapidated. Not even birds chirped here. The late afternoon sun cast a rich golden glow on the weathered houses.

"I watch you fight all the time," Mei said.

It was then that she heard the sound of steel clashing and crunching nearby. Curious, Mei tried to see between the ruined houses and find the source.

"Perhaps with a more familiar subject, you'll start to actually see something instead of just watching."

Two fighters were engaged in battle at the edge of the abandoned settlement. Mei watched, mesmerized, as they clashed in a battle so elegant and fluid, it was more like a dance than a spar. They didn't speak. The only sounds came from their crossing swords, their short breaths, and the quiet swish of feet in the grass. For a moment, Mei lost her breath.

Noticing that they had company, the two fighters halted their activity. The bigger one, a hulking man with a wide girth, set down his sword in the grass with a heavy thud. It was thicker than any sword Mei had seen, and it moved. The longer she stared, the more clearly she could make out the scales trembling down the length of it.

"Samehada," the second, smaller fighter said as he drew up to Mei. "You should see it in a real fight."

"Kisame," Mei said.

He was nearly a foot taller than her at fifteen-years-old, broad-shouldered and still growing. But the toothy grin that hid secrets hadn't changed. She saw it now as he looked down at her, and she suddenly hated how grimy her face was after getting thrown in the dirt too many times today by Ganryū.

"Hey, kid."

She bristled at the infantilizing nickname, but thought better of saying anything in the presence of Kisame's sparring partner. He lumbered toward the newcomers as though it was a monumental task, even though he'd been moving with incredible agility and grace only moments ago.

"Ganryū," he said in a deep rumbling voice.

Ganryū bowed low. "Suikazan, sir. Please excuse the intrusion. I did not intend to interrupt your training."

Mei stepped away from Kisame and mimicked her teacher's reverence and bowed low. Suikazan Fuguki was a respected member of the Seven Swordsmen and head of the Cypher Division. He wielded the demon sword, Samehada, rumored to be the most wicked of the legendary blades with a sentience of its own. Fuguki himself was as imposing a sight as his sword with a shock of orange hair folded into knots and dusting the ground around his feet. The only part of him more eye-catching than Samehada was his impressive belly.

"Hmph." Fuguki didn't bother returning the bow and just glanced between the uninvited visitors. "Something you need, or are you just here to waste my time?"

"No, sir. I was hoping to observe your training session. It would be beneficial for my student to see a true master such as yourself practicing his craft," Ganryū said quickly.

Mei peered between Ganryū and Fuguki as she listened to their conversation. Ganryū was like a completely different person. She'd never heard him apologize for anything in all their time together, much less ask permission. But Fuguki was one of the Seven Swordsmen. To disrespect him was to invite death.

"Well, I suppose when you put it that way, I have to agree. Just stay out of my way."

Ganryū bowed again and Mei backed away with him. Kisame winked at her before turning back to his master.

"I thought he'd say no for a minute," Mei confided when they were out of earshot.

"Most battles are fought with words, not swords. Choose them wisely, and you can claim victory even over a legendary swordsman."

"You tricked him?"

Ganryū pressed his lips together in annoyance. "It's not a trick. A warrior's ego is just a familiar opponent to me." He spared her a withering glance when he felt her eyes lingering on him. "You still have a lot to learn, girl."

The fighting resumed, and Mei was instantly drawn into it. Kisame wielded a katana as he fended off Samehada. The demon sword quaked and made scraping noises when it clashed with Kisame's blade. It was a wonder Kisame's sword hadn't snapped in two under its obvious weight. But when she noticed his footing, it made sense. He wasn't taking the brunt of the blows, but deflecting them and maneuvering around them to eat up distance. Fuguki countered effortlessly, constantly repositioning himself in a performance that required the whole body, not just the arms and torso as Mei had always relied on in her own practice. Their feet did most of the work.

"Yes, Sensei," she said.

Kisame danced like he'd known this before he could walk, and all she could do was stare in awe. Only a monster could make death look so beautiful.


She got up early today to slip out of the house before her father woke. He tended to rise at dawn before reporting to Yagura's tower. Dressing quickly, Mei stole through the dark corridors past her father's room, where he was still snoring peacefully. Last time she'd left early, she'd made the mistake of sleeping in too late and encountered him at breakfast. In place of a standard 'good morning', he drilled her on the history of the Uchiha and Senju feud and its lingering effects on the today's political climate. By the time she made it out the door, she was late meeting Ganryū and he rewarded her with a severe session that left her bleeding and bruised.

Today, she would skip all of that as she dashed into the thick early morning mists and headed for one of the beach training grounds. She'd forgone her Chuunin vest and instead dressed in a simple gray tunic with a white sash and woven sandals. The tantō Ganryū had bequeathed to her on their first day of training was tucked into the sash at her hip. She hadn't bothered with breakfast or much morning grooming, as per her usual. Short hair had the benefit of never needing brushing. And with the mist so thick, she was half soaked by the time she reached the beach, anyway.

Brushing damp bangs from her eyes, Mei drew the tantō and began working on her footwork. She tried to picture Kisame opposite her, how he'd moved so fluidly in his training sessions. She never would have guessed it just looking at him, but the truth was plain to see. Ganryū was a talented swordsman, but Kisame was on another level. There was something innate about his movements, like the waves that know just when to break as they near the shore. Mei had never cared for the sword, but the desire to move like that, like the water itself, was hard to shake.

Waves lapped at her feet as she moved and drenched her bony legs in sea spray. It was refreshing as the sun rose higher on the horizon and dried up the mists. Sweat kept her from drying out as she slashed and twirled, finding rhythm with the waves. She was so caught up in herself that she failed to notice the footsteps until it was too late to escape them.

"Ew, what's she doin' here?"

"Oi, Fleabag, go find some other place to muck up!"

Mei whirled on the newcomers and tensed. It was some of the older boys from her Academy days. Like her, they were Chuunin now, too, and they looked even bigger now than they had growing up. Mei, on the other hand, was as small as ever compared to them. And outnumbered.

"Ya deaf or something? We said move."

There were two of them, and they were armed. She remembered them from all the times they'd dared to pick on her.

"Where's your other friend?" Mei asked. Then, feigning surprise, she added, "Oh, right. I killed him."

The boys bristled at her taunt, but they didn't advance. It was true, after all. She'd killed the third boy a few years ago with her Lava Release. His injuries had been too severe to save his leg, and amputation was not an option for ninjas in the Bloody Mist.

"Ugly bitch," one of the boys spat. "You're gonna pay for that someday, don't you forget it."

Mei tightened her grip on her weapon. Her back was to the sea. Not good. If they chose to attack her in unison, she would not escape without taking damage. But she could handle a little damage.

"Today's as good a day as ever." She brandished her tantō at them and licked her lips. "Maybe I'll kill you, too."

One of the boys advanced with a chokutō, and Mei released acid vapor from the sides of her mouth in warning. He faltered.

"C'mon, don't be such a pussy," his friend said.

But the boy hesitated.

"What's wrong? Afraid I'll burn you like I did to your friend?" Mei taunted.

He swallowed and backed away. "Whatever, freak. You dunno what they say about you." He grabbed his friend's arm and yanked him away.

Mei watched the two of them retreat back to shore, and her anger followed them. She sheathed her tantō when she realized her hand had been trembling. If they had attacked her, it could have been her to get burned in the end. They wouldn't have had to do much, either. Just take an arm and she would be deemed totally useless. She swallowed the poisonous mist she'd concocted and winced at the burn in her throat.

"It doesn't really matter what they say about you."

Mei jumped at the unknown voice so close by and drew her dagger again. A woman stood just a few yards away on the shoreline watching her. She was tall and slender and dressed in foreign shinobi attire, but she wore no hitai-ate. Mei planted her feet in a defensive stance.

"Who're you?"

The kunoichi ignored her. "If you want to know why, it's because what they say is always the same, no matter where you go or how old you are or where you're from. You can't change it."

Mei pursed her lips, unsure how to respond. "I asked you a question. You're obviously not from here."

The kunoichi smirked. "Unless, of course, you change what they perceive about you."

Mei said nothing to that, and the kunoichi chuckled lightly.

"Perception is everything," she said.

"I don't have time for this." Mei straightened her tunic and made to leave, and the kunoichi didn't try to stop her.

"I'm just visiting, you were right about that," she said as Mei passed her. "But I wouldn't expect less from a girl willing to stand up to enemies twice her size."

Mei paused and peered at the kunoichi. From this closer distance, her features were more discernible. Her hair was jet black and tied up, but she'd dyed the ends blonde to frame her tanned face. Her high defined cheekbones, big eyes, and the hint of a smirk at her full lips made her beauty obvious, but there was something off-putting about her. Mei couldn't figure out what, but it was something to recoil at.

"If you want, I can show you how to change that perception people have about you. Interested?"

She said it like it was an invitation to go to the fish market or take a walk. The urge to flinch was there, but curiosity had always gotten the better of Mei when she came up against the strange or the dangerous. This woman was dangerous. It was in her smile.

"Why would you wanna help me?" Mei said, wary.

The kunoichi grinned, and Mei shivered in fright. The look in her eyes was far away, leagues and lonely years beyond. "Let's just say I'm returning the favor."

Before Mei could question that logic (she hadn't done this woman any favors, she didn't even know her), she turned away and headed inland toward town.

"I'm Pakura, by the way," she called back. "Hurry up, I don't have all day."

Mei stood there stunned for a moment, briefly wondering what a kunoichi from another land could possibly want with her. Wondering what it was about this person that was so noxious, like the acid mist Mei had swallowed only minutes ago. Before she could register what was happening, she was already running after Pakura.


Pakura led Mei to the kind of establishment children in this town might hope to live long enough to frequent. The bar was no seedier than the average largely male-frequented locale, and at midday there were few patrons. Pakura ignored them and grabbed a table against the wall for the two of them.

"So, you have a name?" she asked.

"Mei Terumī."

Pakura waved the bartender down and ordered a drink for herself and grilled fish for Mei.

"I bet you haven't eaten all day. It takes time away from training," she said.

Mei could only wonder at this woman's prescience until the food arrived and she happily gorged herself. She ate with her fingers, so hungry she couldn't have been bothered with utensils. Pakura waited patiently for her to finish as she sipped a glass of whiskey.

Mei was suddenly aware of the difference between the two of them. Where she was sweat- and salt-stained from training, Pakura had a look of natural composure and presentation, like she rolled out of bed looking like that. Where Mei wore an old tunic inspired by the fish wives that inhabited the surrounding islands, Pakura was dressed in professional shinobi gear that revealed more skin than Mei would have thought necessary. All it was doing, in fact, was garnering lewd stares from the men at the bar. She shifted in her seat and sat on her hands, food finished and appetite sated.

"You've thought of something just now, haven't you?" Pakura laced her fingers together and leaned her chin forward upon them, expectant.

It's like she can read my mind.

"They're staring."

Pakura didn't bother to look and confirm Mei's observation. She just smiled faintly. "Yes, I know. But you missed something."

"Huh?"

"They're staring, but not one of them has come over here. Do you know why?"

Mei glanced down at her cleaned plate. "Because I'm here."

Pakura said nothing for a moment as she studied the young girl across from her. "They say things about me, too, you know."

Mei looked up and took in Pakura's stunning appearance once more.

No way.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

Mei blushed at having been caught. "How do you know what I'm thinking?"

Pakura laughed lightly. "It's not like I can read your mind. I've just been where you are now. I know what it's like, that's all."

The fright Mei had felt when Pakura had first revealed herself had not abated, but her curiosity had grown exponentially. Mei was no coward, besides. She leaned forward, embarrassment forgotten.

"What'd you mean when you said you'd help me?"

Pakura leaned her chin on one hand and lowered the other to the table. She drummed her nails over the wood. There was no dirt under them, and her hands were soft and unscarred, like Mei's.

Dangerous.

"Just what I said. People see the world a certain way, like how those boys on the beach saw you. You're a spider, Mei Terumī, and they fancy themselves the boot that will crush you."

Mei set her jaw and put her hands on the table at the thought of those bullies that had tormented her for so long. "I can take them. They're losers."

"I believe you. But spiders don't let their rage show; they keep it hidden in shadows. They're patient. Those boys have it all wrong, you know."

"I'm not a spider, I'm a kunoichi."

"No, you're a spider, all right. So am I. See, spiders are sirens. They lure their prey with pretty songs and divine promises. And like flies caught in the web, they ensnare their targets and devour them whole."

"Devour..."

Pakura laughed again. "Not literally, of course. Here, let me ask you again. Why do you think none of those leering men at the bar has come over here?"

Mei's gaze drifted to the men still stealing glances at their table. They were talking amongst themselves, perhaps about trivial matters, or perhaps not. Perhaps they were talking about Pakura. A burly shinobi in a barstool gripped the back of his chair, white-knuckled. Another caressed his scotch like a precious gem. Mei didn't understand, but she had an idea.

"It's not because of me; it's because of you," she said.

Pakura smiled that curling smile that sent a spike of adrenaline down Mei's spine. She wondered how many had seen that smile and nothing else thereafter. "Buzzing flies know when the spider is about, but they just can't help themselves."

Mei studied the woman across from her, and her shoulders slumped a bit as she leaned her weight on her elbows. Her gaze fell and landed on her hands, soft but soiled, jagged fingernails, chapped from overexposure to salt. Pakura lay a hand over Mei's, and she realized she was trembling. Not with fear, but something else. Something that needed out.

"The greatest compliment you can receive from a man is to be told you're beautiful," Pakura said. "You're a very pretty girl, Mei."

Mei jutted out her lower lip and looked up. "I'm a sewer rat. That's what they call me 'cause it's true. I don't care. I don't care about any of them."

Pakura tightened her grip on Mei's hand, gentle but steadfast. "Like I said, it's all about perception. You're just projecting the wrong one, and you're missing out on the most powerful advantage we have over our male counterparts. There are so many of them, and so few of us. They're bigger, faster, stronger, and they occupy the highest positions of power. Your Mizukage is a very powerful man, for example."

Mei averted her gaze. It was all true, of course. Aside from Ameyuri, she was the only girl in her age group and the five years above and below to have survived the Academy.

"They're not stronger. I'm just as tough as they are," she said stubbornly.

"In terms of brute strength? Stamina? I'm afraid not. It's biology, not equality."

Kakashi had been faster. Kisame could last longer. Utakata was stronger, the strongest of them all.

"But we have something that can negate all of that, if the time and place are right. Listen to me."

Mei was listening. Pakura moved her hand to Mei's chin and lifted it just so. She turned her head left and right.

"So pretty. All you have to do is learn the value of beauty. You're a smart girl. You can see how I value my beauty, right?"

Mei nodded.

"You're too young now, but you won't be young forever. Just remember this: beauty is a fact, not an opinion. Taste is just a delusion. I'm not complimenting you, I'm showing you that I've noticed your greatest weapon. That's what it is, a weapon, and weapons must be sharpened if you want them to cut deep. Those men at the bar have been telling me the same thing all this time. They've revealed a weakness I can exploit, if I choose. What kind of fool enemy would do such a thing?"

Mei shook her head. "He wouldn't."

"And yet, he has. You can see it all around you. A beautiful woman is a dangerous woman. They're not stupid, they're just obvious. Remember this feeling. It'll save you one day."

Pakura paid for their order and escorted Mei outside. None of the men ever did approach her, but their eyes lingered as she left the bar. Mei bowed to her and thanked her for the food and the advice.

"You won't appreciate what I had to say today until you're older. But don't forget this. I didn't come here to waste my time."

"Yes, ma'am."

Pakura smiled that devastating smile as she turned to leave. "Goodbye, Mei."

She left and Mei was alone again. That night when she was home and after she'd recited her history lessons with her father, Mei stood in front of the brass mirror in her room and looked herself over. There was a smear of dirt on her cheek, a scab on her lip from training, and her hair was ratty and a little greasy from lack of washing. The dirt under her fingernails was ever-present, and her clothes were worn and salt-stained. She twirled some hair around a finger and stared at her reflection.

"Beauty is a fact, not an opinion."

Mei raked her fingers through her hair to smooth it out as she remembered Pakura's smile, an apocalyptic omen that had frozen her with one effortless look.

"Arm yourself because no one else here will save you," Mei recited to her reflection like a mantra.

"A beautiful woman is a dangerous woman."